CEO's Secret Baby: A Single Dad & Nanny Romance

by Natasha L. Black

  Then I started puking at work. It was the smell of the grease.

  I couldn’t stand to carry an order of French fries out to a table. I threw up six times one shift and they sent me home. I called in sick for a couple of days, both with Red’s and at William’s. I figured I’d get over the stomach bug and feel better soon. Except no amount of 7-Up and soda crackers was helping. So I looked up my symptoms, thinking maybe I had food poisoning that wouldn’t let go. Instead I ended up buying a pregnancy test.

  Because of course it was that.

  What else could it be? I had terrible judgment, I made bad choices, and now I was about to be an unwed mother. I felt like an after-school special, a cautionary tale they tell to teenagers about not screwing your boss. You’ll end up pregnant and alone. Of course, I panicked. How was I going to afford maternity leave and childcare? So much for that dream of opening a restaurant eventually. I’d be waiting tables for life, and my kid would have to sit at a back table with a coloring book until my shift was over. It would be overwhelming and hard and expensive.

  The only thing worse than facing it alone would be seeing William’s face if I told him. The way it would mirror his expression when he told me that Heather shocked him with pregnancy news when they never wanted kids. How he had never wanted to be a father and how he had nearly failed David and didn’t know how they survived. He didn’t want a life with me. And I wasn’t going to sign away my maternal rights for millions the way his ex-wife had. I wasn’t going to be holed up in his house with him monitoring every bite of kale that went in my mouth for the baby’s optimal nutrition, and I wasn’t going to live by his rules.

  He either would reject me and the baby, or he would try to take control and I’d end up running from him, back to square one as a single parent. I sat on my bed and rocked myself and wished so much that my dad was alive. I could have run home to him and he would have helped me. He would’ve watched the baby while I worked or some nice old lady from his church would’ve babysat for me. I had never taken care of a baby, but I could learn. I’d just have to get as many extra shifts as I could handle between now and the last trimester. I had a nice financial cushion from months working for William. I’d need it to help support us through childbirth and a short leave, to pay for a sitter and for diapers and a baby swing and whatever else they needed. Bottles? Pacifiers?

  I got online and started looking at checklists of must-haves. There were things like wipe warmers that I could rule out, but there was so much to learn and so much to buy. I felt panic sweeping over me. I drank some water and took a nap. I’d have to tell Red soon about my condition. I couldn’t be lifting stuff in the supply room. I’d need to make a doctor’s appointment and give my notice to William that I was quitting. It would be hard saying goodbye to David, but the last thing I needed was for William to figure out I was carrying his child and to confuse David with a sibling.

  I was tired of trying to get over William, of trying to stop loving him. I was weary to my bones already. The idea of having to fight him over a child made me want to lie down and sleep for about ten years. I would tell Tara and Nicki, swear them to secrecy. I’d need their support, their experience. Their loyalty. Because I could never let him find out.

  So the next time I went to William’s house, I’d have to tell him to find a new nanny. That the original arrangement was for me to help out for two weeks and I’d been his nanny for nearly three months. It was time for me to return to my regular job with extra shifts and refocus on my restaurant plan. I was in no way prepared to pursue a career as a full-time nanny, and it was high time he inquired at his preferred agency for a replacement. I knew it would upset David. It would upset me.

  I had been delaying the inevitable long enough. Now I had a powerful reason to quit sooner rather than later. The fact that I’d already gained seven pounds. I had assumed that was break-up weight, but apparently it was baby weight. I tried to plan what I would say about resigning and ultimately decided it would be easier to put it in an email.

  Dear Mr. Danes,

  It is with sincere gratitude for the opportunity of being David’s nanny these last three months that I tender my resignation from that position.

  Initially I agreed to a term of two weeks as interim caregiver. I was glad for the extension of that tenure, and I enjoyed working with your son.

  However, it is time that you engage a replacement to fill the position of his nanny in the long-term. I wish to pursue other opportunities.

  Best wishes.

  Sincerely,

  Jessica Cunningham

  I sent the email, cringing at the formal wording that reminded me so much of the cold, stuck up way he had often spoken to me to push me away. I was using the same tactic against him. Holding up the shield of a professional employer-staff relationship to safeguard myself.

  There. He’d have a day and a half to think about it before I had to face him. And I was afraid to face him. I was irrationally scared that he’d see there was something different about me. That he’d notice I was pregnant when, in reality, I hadn’t even noticed I was pregnant until very recently. By my count, I was about seven weeks along. That meant I had at worst, three weeks to get clear of William and never see him again before the surprise baby could potentially pop a huge belly out on me. I dug through my drawers for baggy clothes.

  I was so scared, so shocked and sad and overwhelmed. I called Nicki.

  “What’s up, girl? Are you feeling better?”

  “No. You have to promise not to tell, okay?”

  “Is this some after school special shit? Are you bulimic or something?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “Look, I’m coming over right now. I’m bringing—what do you think you could eat? What sounds good?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been sick off and on, and mainly I’m so tired.”

  “Do you need ginger ale? How about some lemon drops?”

  “That sounds good. Oh and how about fried rice? I want fried rice,” I said, suddenly seized by yearning for the salty, mushroomy goodness. She laughed.

  “That’s my girl. Even if you don’t have cravings, you play it for all it’s worth, okay? You want a donut? Say so. You’re growing a person. You deserve some pampering. But I bet I’ve got nothing on that rich boy. He’ll hire somebody just to spoon-feed you caviar if you want it.”

  “I’m not telling him,” I said brokenly.

  “Listen, I know I’ve got trouble with Max. We’re not even together anymore. But this baby boy is his son. And he’ll be there in the room when he’s born.”

  “God, I should not be dumping this on you when you’re single and pregnant too,” I said.

  “No, honey. This makes us sisters. I’m gonna get you some rice, get me some egg rolls and we’ll be over. Me and baby boy.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  When she got there, I hugged her, taking in her huge, taut belly at seven months pregnant.

  “Good news is, you can wear my maternity clothes. That’ll save you a ton of money. They were my sister’s first, but they’re in good shape.”

  “Thank you,” I said, digging into the rice.

  “You know it’s gonna be okay. You’ve got me and Tara and her crazy kids and Red will work with you. He’s worked with me, and my mama is going to watch my baby for me three days a week, and Max’s mama is watching him on Wednesday and Fridays.”

  “That’s great. It must be a relief to have that worked out,” I said, trying not to whine.

  “You’ve got loads of time to figure all that out for yourself. I know you don’t have a mama, but you’re not alone. We’ve got this. And our babies get to grow up together. How sweet is that? We can make them wear furry bunny ears at Easter time and take pictures of them.”

  I burst into tears, “I love you,” I said, “thank you so much for being in my life.”

  “I love you too Jess. Now go on and ea
t your rice, you need to give that little nugget some calories.”

  “What did you decide to name the baby?” I asked, taking a bite.

  “Well, Max wants to name him Maximillian Sawyer Jr. and I said hell no. I still want to call him River.”

  “You know my opinion. Your vagina, your baby,” I said.

  “That’s my opinion too. I told him, he wants to push this baby out himself, he can call it after himself. Otherwise, my vote counts twice.”

  “I like River. It’s a good name,” I said.

  “It is,” she said.

  “Nicki, you’re the best. You know that, right?”

  “That’s what I told Max every day. He didn’t agree.”

  “Max is a stupid dick,” I spat. She laughed, slapped her knee.

  “You call him and tell him that, I’ll give you all my tips from today.”

  “I’m serious, Nick. You deserve so much better than him.”

  “We both deserve better than we got. But we’re going to have beautiful babies, and you don’t need to worry about any little thing. You just concentrate on having a boy so he can wear all of River’s outgrown clothes. You should see all the stuff Max’s mama has got for the baby already.”

  We sat down and watched some Real Housewives, which Nicki promised would make me feel better about my life choices. We had a good time, and I was less scared when she left. Even when she told me that I needed to tell William the truth.

  I shook my head, “He doesn’t want us, and I don’t need the drama. I need to focus on taking care of myself and the baby.” She just hugged me and didn’t say another word.

  I lay awake that night and thought how it was breaking my heart all over again to leave David. But that I couldn’t endure seeing William, loving him, wishing things were different. And I couldn’t risk him finding out about the baby. I had to protect my child. It was ironic that I finally understood what he meant when he kept saying he couldn’t risk a real relationship because of how it might hurt his kid and how he might fall into another depression. Because every instinct I had told me to marshal my strength to protect my baby. My reason for quitting was the exact same reason he’d given me time and again for breaking up with me.

  I wished so hard that we could have been a family. That discovering my pregnancy could have been joyous—a baby brother or sister for David, a living proof of the love William and I shared. I closed my eyes, tears leaking down my cheeks as I imagined what that would have looked like. The peace and comfort and love of that make believe moment.

  I’d step out of the bathroom carrying the positive pregnancy test, a look of wonder on my face. I’d go to William, speechless, and show him. He’d put down whatever he was doing and sweep me into his arms, spinning me around and kissing me, unable to contain his joy. Then we’d tell David, and then go out to celebrate. We’d have pizza and ice cream and then William and David would buy a tiny Chicago Bears onesie for the baby with matching booties. William would hold me that night and tell me I’d given him the greatest gift he could imagine—my love, and that this baby would always be cherished and protected. That we would be together and happy and keep our children safe.

  Not since I lost my dad had I wished for something so hard. And not since then had I wanted anything that was so impossible. I had wanted my father back with everything in me. Now my child would have no father. She or he would never share the bond with William that I had with my daddy. But they would not grow up without a mother the way I did. I’d do anything for them. Even turn my back on their brother and father to keep them with me.

  I knew he had gotten one desperate woman to sign away her child. Sure, the circumstances had been different, and she had wanted to leave. But maybe she hadn’t wanted to leave her child behind completely. Maybe she’d been manipulated. That was a risk I couldn’t take. I’d be damned if he took my baby or had a chance to reject us both. I couldn’t bear seeing William day after day knowing he’d given up on us and didn’t want me. It would have been so much worse had he known about the baby—to see the anger and disappointment from him—the determination to either send us both away or to keep the child and pay me off, paint me as his next villain.

  I had nightmares about it. Things I knew he’d never do in real life, but which seemed a threat to my future child. I didn’t honestly believe William Dane was going to try to take my infant and banish me—it was far-fetched. But I wasn’t willing to face even an outlandish, unlikely danger. He was more likely to insist on shared custody, to monitor my food intake and exercise and to refuse to let our kid play on a swing set until it was ten years old or something. But fear was fear and pregnancy made me a bundle of anxiety with secrets to keep.

  He replied briefly to my email, stating that he’d hire someone as soon as possible and would appreciate it if I worked the next week in full while he conducted interviews. I could handle anything for one more week, I told myself.

  12

  William

  She was quitting.

  It was no surprise. What reason did she have to stay? She never made childcare her career ambition. She only pitched in to cover as David’s nanny because she liked him and wanted to be helpful. And yet, it hurt like hell.

  Just because she loved my kid, and he loved her. Just because I had feelings for her I had never had for anyone else before. Just because I could gag on my own grief at losing her. That was no reason to ask her to stay.

  Jessica had her own life and plans. We had been a detour. A good deed. She had boosted David’s confidence, made him happier and braver. She had brought me to life. Her laugh, her touch had shocked me back into the present, had reminded me that I was a man, not just a CEO and a father.

  The memory of her hand sliding into my back pocket at the hot dog cart, or the comical innocent look she gave me—that was enough to claw at my chest and make me long to forget. I wanted a drink, but I wouldn’t take one. I was stronger than that. No hiding in a bottle this time, no letting the care of my son be someone else’s concern while I wallowed in self-pity. I was older, wiser.

  I still should have known better.

  The attraction I’d felt for Jessica from the beginning was destined to be a problem. But it was the way she got under my skin, the connection between us that had been my undoing. So the fact that she was moving on from this job should not be personal.

  It’s not personal.

  Wasn’t that what I had told her?

  Ironic now that she could offer me the same reasoning that I had pawned off on her. That leaving me and my son was not personal. It had been a job. I had never allowed it to be more than that. If she left, it was my doing. If she had no reason to stay, that was my fault.

  Still, the idea of seeing her again, knowing it was her final week. That after this, we would only see her in the diner. As if we were strangers once more. As if I could sign the check, leave her a five-dollar tip and walk away.

  I was going to have to pay the owner for that damn pancake recipe and give it to my cook. Because no way in hell could I go back to that diner, go back to ignoring her and acting like it didn’t matter what we had shared. What I had sacrificed. How I had hurt her.

  I would be ready to leave when she arrived. I would say a pleasant but detached good morning and go out the door to my waiting car. I would not stop to look her in the eyes or say overwrought things about wanting her to stay or wishing things were different.

  My tie was straight and my shoes polished. I had my briefcase in hand, and David was awake and washing his face. She came in and kicked her shoes off, looking grimmer than usual perhaps.

  “Did you tell him?” she said, not looking at me.

  “I did. I thought it was better coming from me. I explained that you have to be at your real job. He wanted to come to the diner every day to see you. I’ll talk him out of that later,” I said.

  Her head shot up at the mention of us coming to the diner, a startled look on her face. She blinked it away, but it had looked like a flash o
f panic.

  “I won’t let my five year old stalk you. I promise,” I joked. She just nodded.

  “Right. I know,” she said and then she walked off to find him.

  I left, thinking often that she was there in my house all day, and that I could go and see her, all alone. That we could talk. Maybe I could kiss her or convince her. I stayed at work. Because I was a man who knew my duty no matter what it cost me.

  I may have stayed later at work than I had to. I didn’t want to be tempted to invite her to stay to dinner, to stay for breakfast. I would have given a great deal to want her less, to need her less. My feelings for her were something I tried not to look at too closely. When I arrived home, they weren’t there. I texted her instead of the driver, just because I could.

  “At pond learning to skate,” she replied.

  I got back in the car and directed my driver to the park nearby with its ice skating pond. It was nicer out than it had been the week before. I didn’t feel the need to cover every inch of exposed skin or risk frostbite like last week. I was comfortable in my jacket and hat, hands in my pockets. I wanted to take pictures if he was on his feet and skating.

  I walked up to the pond, seeing that they were the only ones on it. He was sitting on the side, fiddling with his laces. I watched Jessica make a confident swing around the edge, skating gracefully, smoothly. The loops and turns were elegant and she seemed to do them easily. I wondered if it had been her father whom she missed so much who taught her to skate like that. I clapped, showing my appreciation for her skill. She bent and helped David up onto his feet and steadied him. Then he took cautious, scissoring steps onto the ice. She didn’t hover, didn’t shout instructions or criticisms. I found myself holding my breath as he pinwheeled his arms to keep from falling. She gave a laugh that sounded like bells on the breeze.

  David teetered and wobbled his way, trying to cross the ice from one side of the pond to the other. I thought it was a little ambitious for his first day skating. But I let him try, remembering her speech about him practicing and being braver. I watched Jessica glide across the edge of the ice on the side of the pond farthest from me. I sat down on a bench and flipped my phone to the camera so I could take a photo of my son. I smiled, looked up and clicked the shutter. Then I heard the thud as he fell on the ice.