Profession

8| Profession

☼Willow☼

I blew on the food before feeding Isabella. She counted her fingers as she chewed, I noticed she did that a lot. Lucas says it's because she doesn't want to talk while eating.

Cute.

"It's Thursday tomorrow," Lucas suddenly announced as he twirled his pasta.

"Yes?" I answered before stuffing a meatball in my mouth.

"I love Thursdays." he finished with a wide smile.

I covered my mouth as I laughed. This kid.

I cut down a piece of meatball on Isabella's plate before handing her the plastic fork.

"Okay," I started, watching as her eyes widened in panic already. "Try to pick up the meatball, Bella," I instructed, and she shook her head.

"I'm gonna swallow the fork and it's gonna get stuck in my throat," she explained frantically.

I blinked. What?

"I– What?" I sputtered turning to look at her brother.

"Dad," he answered shortly before plunging a forkful of pasta into his mouth.

I opened my mouth to say something but paused, I thought I heard the front door open. But I've already keyed it.

When I couldn't hear anything again, I continued.

"Bella, your father was just messing with you." I tried to explain as I collected the fork from her trembling hands. "A fork is never going to go anywhere past your lips, okay?" I said feeding her the meatball.

She started counting her fingers immediately. I stood up to refill the water in the pitcher, and when I was doing so, Isabella piped up a question.

"What about a spoon Wooly?" She asked fearfully.

"It—"

"A spoon is even worse, amoré," A calm deep voice intercepted making my blood run cold for a second. "It will make your throat so wide that flies would enter without missing a beat."

I whipped my head to the dining table only to see Mr. Moretti walking in.

My eyes darted to Isabella who was torn between fear and delight.

"So, you'll only be safe when Daddy feeds his little principessa okay?" He said walking over to her.

Lucas was just smiling as he chewed his food, but I knew he wanted to say something. Was this normal for them? Does he just pop out of nowhere?

I thought he was supposed to be on a business trip.

"Mr. Moretti, sir, good evening." I greeted holding on to the now-filled pitcher in my hands.

He spared me a glance, his hair falling in front of his eyes as he did. He tilted his head as if he was trying to recall something.

He had his suit jacket in his hands, and he was wearing an off-white turtleneck that matched the color of his suit.

I was wearing a baggy shirt with a pair of shorts, but you could barely see them since my shirt reached mid-thigh. If I knew he was coming I could've worn sweatpants or longer pajama pants.

"Nanny," his calm voice uttered before taking a seat near Isabella, where I was previously sitting. "Good evening." he greeted.

"Hi, Dad," Lucas said once he swallowed.

"Hey, Luke. How've you been?" Mr. Moretti asked picking up my fork.

"Great," Lucas replied with a toothy grin before eating the last morsel of food left on his plate.

My food was in front of Mr. Moretti. I had barely even touched it, all I ate was one meatball. Should I get him a new plate?

"I can get you a new plate of food, sir–" I started but the words died on my tongue when he waved a hand at me unbothered.

He twirled the pasta around the fork carefully before picking it up and eating it. He hummed quietly in satisfaction when he chewed and then he picked up Isabella's fork to feed her.

I took the pitcher to the table, putting it down slowly.

Mr. Moretti seemed to be a very calm and quiet man so I feel like even the slightest noise would disturb him.

I opened the serving dish where the pasta sauce was served, took out one meatball with the serving spoon, and carefully placed it on Mr. Moretti's plate.

This made him look up at me, his eyes boring straight into mine at the sudden action. My eyes widened.

"I-it's just that...I ate one before you...started eating." I stuttered slightly, my guts churning from anxiety.

Fuck!

I wish that his hair would cover his eyes, just this one time. I felt like he was trying to decipher the meaning of my whole existence with this one gaze.

Eventually, he nodded and went back to feeding his daughter.

I didn't know what to do so I went over to where Lucas was seated and sat next to him. I will just have to eat when they go to bed.

Lucas engaged me in a conversation about how he thinks it's weird that I have freckles all over my face and body.

I do have freckles all over my body but it's not that they are many in one place, they're just scattered everywhere, and they cover my chest, breasts, stomach, legs, and arms. You can't even see them from afar, they're very light.

"We should paint you green and then color the freckles as lights during Christmas." He suggested somewhere in the conversation making me laugh.

He said I would look like a masterpiece. Agreed. Maybe I should buy a tree costume for Christmas.

I pushed my hair back as I listened to Lucas. I looked up to see if Isabella was done only to find her counting her fingers as she chewed on the last bite. I went to look away but found Mr. Moretti staring at me.

I raised my eyebrows in alert if he wanted something, but he just stared silently which made heat crawl up my neck.

"I'm done, Wooly!" Isabella announced making my attention snap towards her.

"That's great," I said standing up. "Let's get you ready for bed then?"

She nodded before looking at her father expectantly. He arched an eyebrow at her, and she told him to help her get down.

When he did, she quickly walked to me hugging my legs as if we weren't together the whole time.

"I miss you." She mumbled making me chuckle before picking her up.

"Of course, you do," I said attaching her to my hips before going to pick up her plate.

Mr. Moretti was looking at Isabella, amusement clear in his eyes.

After putting the children's plate in the sink, Lucas came to grab my free hand so we could go upstairs together.

"Good night, Dad." The children said to their father who was still eating.

He hummed in response.

"I'll come to clean the dishes after I put them to bed, sir," I told him before going upstairs.

Mr. Moretti surely is a quiet man. I feel like as long as I do what he expects of me, we can live on good terms.

That's right, keep it together Willow.