Daphne Collins, a 21-year-old aspiring artist who is attempting to make her way in the world of the bustling New York City. Though when a new nannying job gets offered to her, she takes it, hopeful that it'll give her the extra money and nudge to ma...
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Chapter Song -Bennie And The Jets by Elton John
"Whats wrong with mummy?" Bridie whispers to Hallie.
"I don't know," Hallie replies to her sister.
I stop my incessant whisking of pancake batter, and take a sharp breath in, before continuing, though thats short lived. Re-stopping my action to stare at the whispering girls, who look back at me with pure confusion.
"There's nothing wrong with me girls, I'm fine," I reassure them.
"Thats a lie," Danny comments, his confusion replicated of the girls and the three stare at me from across the island counter.
I huff, resting the whisk on the edge of the bowl. "I'm fine, just...nervous," I shrug a shoulder, staring back down at the batter.
"But, you always talk with daddy in your room when you're nervous," Hallie comments innocently.
"Yeah and then I get scared, because you start screaming," Bridie adds and I choke on air, Danny's laugh disguising as a cough.
"Oh, um," I laugh awkwardly, staring at the pancake batter as if it'll help me or give me some guidance as to what on earth I respond to those comments with.
"Daddy's just helping mummy relax, it's an older person thing," Danny quips and I would send him a 'thank you', but the smug look he's giving me, makes me not so thankful.
"Okay, well whatever helps," Hallie smiles innocently and I just nod.
Wiping a stray hair out of my face, I head over to the stove and pour a gulp of pancake batter into the hot pan.
"Hey girls, how about you go play and mummy and I will bring out your breakfast," Danny tells the girls and they happily oblige.
I sense Danny walk around the island, until he's pressed right up against me, his confusion and worry radiating off him in bright sun beams.
"Daph' baby, what are you doing?" Danny asks, leaning his forearm on the open counter next to me, his eyes peering up at me, as he searches my face for answers.
I meet his eyes. "Making pancakes, isn't it obvious?" I answer him, returning my gaze to the bubbling pancake, which I flip over.
Perfectly, of course, rather a talent I picked up through the years growing up. Since my mother undercooks the pancakes, David burns them and Nick is untrustworthy in the kitchen.
Ever since he made a flour explosion science experiment when he was 11, he's been banned from any sort of cooking or baking. Only allowed to make cereal, toast, sandwiches and to wash dishes, anything else is off limits.
"I can see that, but it's a school day, normally we give the girls cereal, toast...and we save pancakes for the weekends," Danny drifts off. "Does this spontaneous need to make pancakes have anything to do with meeting your parents today?" he questions and the back of my neck flushes from being caught.
