on her own song. I don’t mind it so much blended with another voice, and I can see what Zoey means about a gateway. I could get used to Dolly in little bits like this.
Zoey picks the music for the rest of the ride, introducing Ella and me to bands I’ve never heard of. The Wailing Jennys and the Bittersweets, Act of Congress and a local Austin artist named Jesse Woods.
“I know this one,” I say on a new song. It’s a man and woman singing, their harmonies wrapping around each other in a way that’s beautiful. “The Civil Wars, right?”
Zoey seems pleased, and happiness bursts in my chest like a geyser.
“Yes. A shame they were so short lived. They’re one of my favorites.”
“They broke up over … creative differences?” I’d heard something about that because I don’t live that much under a rock. I think it was actually rumored to be an affair, but I’m not bringing that up in front of Ella, who’s been so quiet that I almost forgot she was here.
“Something like that. Lots of speculation. Especially if you listen to the lyrics from their last album together.”
“I like the guitar,” Ella says suddenly. “I’ve been asking for one, but Mother said no.”
Maybe it’s not bad that Ella doesn’t call me anything but he, because the way she says mother is so filled with derision that it almost chokes me. She hasn’t said anything about Eleanor until now, and that in itself says something. Again, anger at Eleanor leaves me hot and breathless.
I know it’s at least a little bit motivated by spite for Eleanor if not also a strange, growing affection for Ella, but the very first thing on my list to do is to buy that girl a guitar.
“What do your parents think about all this?” Zoey whispers.
Her voice is closer than it should be, and I realize that she’s leaned forward between the two seats, her cheek close to my shoulder. Ella fell asleep a few minutes ago, looking much younger and sweeter. I’ve been driving in a sort of autopilot, my eyes unfocused on the road, taking in the cars in front and checking the mirrors with a kind of robotic regularity.
The sun won’t set for a few more hours, but it’s lower on the horizon, making Zoey’s hair glow like gold, and the blue in her eyes deepen into the blue of a west Texas sky. I quickly turn my gaze back to the road.
“They’re thrilled.”
My mother screamed almost as loudly when I mentioned that I was bringing Zoey home with me. Mama didn’t seem to care when I said that Zoey is coming as a nanny for Ella. Not a girlfriend, even if that’s what I wish for. Nanny is the last title I want for Zoey, because it’s one more layer of distance between us.
But I can understand why Zoey wanted to keep things professional, why she would like to have clear definitions of where we stand. Why would Zoey want to entangle herself with my mess? Or with me? If it wasn’t hard enough that I was her boss and much older, now I have a daughter. Not to mention the fact that she saw—and smelled—me at my very worst.
In the past two days, I ruined our date and her birthday. I gave her a black eye. And if my vague memory serves me well, I think I basically begged her to rub my head.
Zoey is still here, and that says something. I’m just not sure it says what I want it to say. But I have this weekend to work on that. While also getting to know my daughter and introducing them both to my family. No pressure. Keeping things nice and casual.
I turn to look at Zoey, seeing a heaviness to her face even in the brief look I hazard away from the road.
“Do you already regret saying yes?” I ask, unable to be anything other than honest.
She only hesitates for a beat. “No. Though I’m still not sure I’m the right person for this. Kids don’t really like me, and I didn’t even babysit in high school. I called my friend Delilah earlier for reinforcements because I was scared.”
That makes me smile. “Stop it. You’re so great. You don’t even know. I mean, just in this car ride alone.”
“I don’t know how to talk to her,” Zoey says, sounding like she’s telling me a dark secret. I give her a look telling her that she’s