Chapter Twenty-Seven: NERVOUS
958 Words
Xenia
I was nervous.
Very nervous.
Extremely nervous.
The kind of nervous where your stomach feels funny and you suddenly forget how to act like a normal human being.
Unfortunately, there was no cure for it.
I sat in my seat aboard Mr. Winslie's private jet and stared out the window.
Clouds.
Lots and lots of clouds.
Normally I loved flying.
Today I wasn't enjoying it.
Not even a little.
"Nanny."
I looked down.
Kira was sprawled across the sofa in our private suite.
Yes.
A suite.
Inside a plane.
Rich people continued confusing me.
"Yes, baby?"
"Why are you staring at the clouds?"
I hesitated.
Then answered honestly.
"Because if I look at you, I remember where we are going."
Kira giggled.
Europe.
Europe.
Europe.
The word alone made my anxiety worse.
Not because I hated Europe.
I loved Europe.
Italy was there.
My family was there.
My home was there.
The problem was that we weren't going to Italy.
We were going to visit Mr. Winslie's parents.
For Christmas.
And New Year.
For two whole weeks.
Two.
Entire.
Weeks.
I was going to spend two weeks inside the home of the people who raised Eli Winslie.
Wonderful.
Absolutely wonderful.
I wanted to hide under a blanket.
Kira rolled onto her stomach.
"You know Grandma loves you."
That wasn't helping.
That was making it worse.
"I know."
"Then why are you nervous?"
I looked at her.
"Because she loves me."
Kira blinked.
Then frowned.
That answer clearly made no sense to her.
Lucky child.
"I do not understand."
"I know."
"Explain."
I sighed dramatically.
"Baby, when people love you, you want them to continue loving you."
"Yes."
"And if they stop?"
Kira gasped.
"As if Grandma could stop loving you."
The confidence in her voice almost made me laugh.
Almost.
Instead, I buried my face in my hands.
Kira immediately climbed beside me.
"You're being silly."
"Maybe."
"You are."
I peeked through my fingers.
She was smiling.
The little traitor.
Before I could respond, the suite door opened.
Mr. Winslie stepped inside.
Instantly, Kira brightened.
"Daddy!"
Of course.
The man hadn't even spoken yet.
He sat across from us.
A tablet in one hand.
Coffee in the other.
Very serious.
Very grumpy.
Very Mr. Winslie.
I immediately sat straighter.
A habit.
Even after all this time.
He noticed.
His eyebrow lifted slightly.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
"Miss Kingsley."
"Mr. Winslie."
"You look worried."
I blinked.
Had it become that obvious?
Apparently yes.
Wonderful.
"I'm not worried."
A lie.
A terrible one.
Mr. Winslie gave me a look.
The same look teachers gave students when they clearly knew the homework wasn't finished.
"You are."
"No."
"You are."
"No."
"Miss Kingsley."
I sighed.
Defeated.
Completely defeated.
"Maybe little bit."
Kira immediately pointed.
"See?"
Traitor.
Again.
Mr. Winslie set his coffee down.
"What are you worried about?"
The answer should have been easy.
Instead it felt embarrassing.
"I don't know if your parents still like me."
Silence.
Then Kira laughed.
Actually laughed.
Loudly.
I stared at her.
"Baby."
"You should see your face."
"That is not answer."
Mr. Winslie rubbed a hand across his jaw.
Almost hiding a smile.
Almost.
"Miss Kingsley."
"Yes?"
"My mother asks about you every phone call."
I blinked.
"What?"
"Every phone call."
My eyes widened.
"Oh."
"Usually before she asks about me."
Kira immediately nodded.
"That is true."
I looked between them.
Confused.
Very confused.
"Really?"
"Really."
I sat there processing that information.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
Mr. Winslie picked up his coffee again.
"My father likes you too."
I nearly choked.
"What?"
Another nod.
"He thinks you're good for Kira."
The words warmed something inside my chest.
Unexpectedly.
Dangerously.
Because no matter how much I tried pretending otherwise, I cared what his parents thought.
A lot.
Maybe too much.
The realization embarrassed me.
I quickly looked out the window again.
Clouds.
Wonderful clouds.
Safe clouds.
Clouds didn't judge people.
"Kira."
"Yes Daddy?"
"If Miss Kingsley continues panicking, I may need to provide a paper bag."
"Daddy."
"What?"
"Be nice."
I laughed despite myself.
The two of them looked so similar sometimes.
Not in appearance.
In stubbornness.
Both impossible.
Both dramatic.
Both refusing to admit when they were worried.
Kira climbed onto the seat beside her father.
Then immediately began talking.
And talking.
And talking.
For the next twenty minutes she explained her complete strategy for Christmas.
Apparently she intended to:
1. Receive presents.
2. Receive more presents.
3. Receive additional presents.
4. Eat cookies.
5. Continue receiving presents.
A remarkably detailed plan.
Mr. Winslie listened with the patience of a saint.
Or a man who had long ago accepted defeat.
Eventually Kira grew sleepy.
The excitement of traveling had finally caught up to her.
She curled beside her father.
Within minutes she was asleep.
Just like that.
Children were magical creatures.
I watched quietly as Mr. Winslie adjusted the blanket around her.
Carefully.
Gently.
Making sure she stayed warm.
The sight made me smile.
Because no matter how cold or intimidating he appeared to everyone else, there was always a completely different version of him when Kira was involved.
A softer version.
One very few people ever saw.
His eyes lifted suddenly.
Meeting mine.
Caught.
Wonderful.
I quickly looked away.
Heat rushed into my cheeks.
Why was I embarrassed?
I hadn't done anything wrong.
Probably.
The silence settled comfortably around us.
Kira slept.
The engines hummed softly.
Clouds drifted beyond the windows.
And somewhere beneath all my nervousness, a tiny spark of excitement began to appear.
Christmas.
Europe.
Snow.
Family dinners.
Holiday lights.
Maybe this trip wouldn't be so scary after all.
Maybe.
Though knowing my luck, I would probably trip over something and embarrass myself within the first hour.
Honestly, that felt much more realistic.
- Writer
