“You take it with cream, right?”
I paused. “I don’t remember telling you that.”
Watching, but not watching.
“Lucky guess,” he said.
He smiled in a way that didn’t feel threatening but wasn’t casual either.
I forced a small smile back. “Thanks.”
The boys ate quickly and returned to their toys.
I sat on the edge of the couch, sipping the coffee I now wasn’t sure I wanted, running through the layout of the house in my head.
I was planning my escape route… just in case.
“Lucky guess,”
The father leaned against the doorway.
“So, Emma, tell me a little about yourself. Are you seeing anyone?”
The question landed heavier than it should have.
“I’m focused on finishing school right now,” I said carefully.
“That’s admirable. And after graduation? Any big plans?”
“I’m not sure yet. Maybe grad school. Maybe move closer to family.”
He nodded slowly, like he was writing my answers down somewhere in his head.
“Tell me a little about yourself.”
“Family’s important,” he said. “The right people around you. That matters more than anything.”
I forced another polite smile and turned back to the boys.
They were now arguing softly over which dinosaur was faster.
I pretended to referee, but my mind was somewhere else entirely.
Why was he still here?
Why did he keep asking these questions?
My mind was somewhere else entirely.
I tried to convince myself I was overreacting.
Maybe he worked from home.
Maybe the errand had been rescheduled and he just felt awkward telling me.
But then he came back into the living room with a photo album.
“Would you mind if I sat with you for a bit? The boys love it when someone new sees their pictures.”
Now he wanted to sit with me?
A chill went down my spine.
I tried to convince myself I was overreacting.
“Sure,” I said.
He sat one cushion away and opened the album across his knees.
The boys climbed onto his lap immediately, pointing at photos of themselves as babies.
“That’s Mommy,” the younger one said, tapping a picture of a woman with kind eyes and a wide smile.
I looked up at the father.
He sat one cushion away
His expression had shifted, softer, sadder, but he didn’t say anything about her.
He just turned the page.
“So, Emma,” he said again, quieter this time. “Do you think you could see yourself doing this kind of work long term? Not just babysitting for a semester. I mean really being around.”
I swallowed. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“Would you think about it?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it.”
The room felt smaller.
“I guess it depends on the family,” I said carefully.
“Of course,” he answered. “Of course it does.”
He kept turning pages.
I kept counting the minutes until 6 PM.
Every question felt like a door opening onto a hallway I didn’t want to walk down.
I kept counting the minutes
By late afternoon, my instincts were screaming.
Something was happening in this house, something I hadn’t signed up for.
I wanted out of there before I turned into front page news.
Then he called me into the kitchen.
He gave me my payment for the day in an envelope.
I glanced toward the front door.
I wanted out of there before I turned into front page news.
“Thank you for today,” he said. “The boys really enjoyed you.”
“Of course. They were easy. Sweet kids.”
I forced a smile and slid the envelope into my bag.
Something in his posture told me the evening wasn’t quite over yet.
“Emma, before you go, I owe you honesty.”
I paused with my hand on the strap of my bag. “Okay.”
“I owe you honesty.”
“The boys didn’t actually need a sitter today.”
I stared at him.
The boys were giggling in the next room, oblivious, building something out of blocks that kept collapsing.
“I don’t understand,” I finally answered.
“I wasn’t hiring a babysitter.” He took a slow breath. “I was hoping to find someone who might, one day, become part of their lives.”
And just like that, all the red flags started waving like parade bunting.
“I wasn’t hiring a babysitter.”
My throat went dry.
Every instinct I’d been swallowing for hours came roaring back.
“Part of their lives,” I repeated.
“Yes.”
“In what way, exactly?”
He hesitated, and that hesitation felt like confirmation.
“In what way, exactly?”
I took a step back.
“Are you saying you hired me because you wanted a wife? Some kind of interview for the boys’ new mother?”
The color drained from his face. “No. God, no. Emma, no.”
He looked genuinely horrified.
For a second, that horror unbalanced me more than the confession had.
But what followed was worse than anything else I’d faced that day.
“Are you saying you hired me because you wanted a wife?”
