by Eva Luxe
Then her stomach growled. We looked at each other and laughed.
“Well, you did promise me dinner!” She smiled when she said it.
“Your wish is my command.”
I slid off her and straightened my clothes, then started unpacking things from the picnic basket. I looked doubtfully at my own chicken-bacon-ranch sandwiches. Oh, well, surely they were edible, at least. I pulled out the chips, salad, and wine and arranged them as artfully as I could between us.
“You think your mom’s going to be all right after you go back to school?” I handed her the paper plate I’d piled her food on.
She took it and bit into her sandwich. “Hey, this isn’t bad. Yeah, I think she will. She might let Dad move back in. They’ve been going to counseling.”
“Yeah, she told me. That’s good—at least they can figure out what went wrong before they try to move back in together. So, when do you have to be back in your apartment?”
“Sunday is the move-in date for campus apartments.”
I took her hand and kissed her fingers. “I’ll miss you.”
She sighed. “I’ll miss you too.” She looked away from me, out over the desert. “Is this the part where you say you don’t want me to be your girlfriend anymore because long-distance relationships are too hard?”
“You sound upset.” And okay, I’m an asshole, but I was thrilled. I honestly wasn’t sure she cared about me as much as I cared about her. But she did sound upset about the idea of us breaking up. “Oh, hey, is that a tear? Don’t cry! Chrissy—at least let me answer the question!”
“Fine.” She sniffled and took a deep breath, like she was bracing herself.
“I don’t want to break up, but I don’t want you to be my girlfriend anymore, either.”
Her head whipped back around to face me. She glared. “So what, your booty call? Your friend with benefits? Please.”
Okay, here it was, the moment we’d all been waiting for. This time I was the one who took a deep breath.
“Well…I can’t promise I’ll never want a booty call. You have a fantastic booty.”
She rolled her eyes.
“And, Chrissy, I do feel like we’re friends. I tell you pretty much everything.”
She sighed. I shifted so that I was kneeling next to her on the blanket.
“But I don’t want you to be my girlfriend anymore. I was thinking more like…fiancée?” I took her hand again. “I love you, Chrissy. Will you marry me?”
As she goggled at me, I reached into the basket, moved the dessert over, and pulled out a ring box. I opened it so she could see the diamond inside it.
“Holy shit!”
I laughed. “What do you think, Chrissy? I know this next year will be hard, but we can make it work. We could get married after graduation, if you want.”
She knelt up so she was facing me, though she was still several inches shorter. I wrapped my arms around her waist. She put her hands on my cheeks.
“I love you. I think I’ve always loved you, even when you only thought of me as your best friend’s little sister. I would love to marry you, Adam.”
“You know where we should get married?” I said, feeling fucking giddy. “At the mansion.”
“Oh yes,” she said. “So many good memories there.”
“Mm hmm. That’s where I discovered Mansion Adam.”
“I remember him! He was fun and sexy and happy. I liked him.”
“That’s how I feel when I’m with you, Chrissy. Like Mansion Adam. Like the real me. Only with you.”
I kissed her and started to lower her back onto the blanket. “Hey, wait,” she laughed. “Don’t I get to try on the ring?”
“Oh, right.” I still had the box clenched in my hand. “Here…”
She took it from me and slipped it onto the correct finger. It looked perfect there. Like she shone with diamonds. Like she was mine.
“Okay, now we can make out!” She reached for me.
“No, wait…” I pulled out my phone and started pushing buttons.
“What are you doing?”
I grinned at her. “Texting Jack, of course!”
Thank you reading!
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Nanny Wanted: A Virgin & Billionaire Secret Baby Romance
Copyright © 2017 by Eva Luxe and Juliana Conners; All Rights Reserved.
Chapter 1 – Willow
I hated this.
There was nothing worse I’d ever experienced in my entire life than having to visit my brother in the hospital. I didn’t even know— no one knew— whether Sam was going to pull through or not. Every time I came here, it was one big question mark with no answer in sight.
And yet, I loved my brother. I believed in him and wanted him to get better. So, I continued to come see him, even though being here was very difficult, to say the least.
The view of the hospital lobby loomed over me as people were coming and going, some on stretchers and some in wheelchairs.
Sam didn’t deserve this fate— didn’t deserve to have to be here. My brother was big and loud and affectionate, and made a joke out of everything. He didn’t belong in a place like this, no matter how kind the nurses were or how cutting edge the technology was. He shouldn’t be lying still, with tubes running in and out of him, fighting for his life.
I swallowed my depression and gathered as much courage as I could, but I still dragged my feet as I entered the hospital and retraced my steps back up to his room for what felt like the thousandth time.
The elevator would’ve been easier, but I needed to keep myself in motion until I laid eyes on him. Elevators were starting to feel a little claustrophobic.
I got to his room and shoved through the door. “Sam, you wouldn’t believe this new—”
His bed was empty. Oh, God, what had happened?
“Nurse, nurse!” I ran to the small nurses’ station a few steps away from Sam’s door. “What happened to my brother? Why isn’t he in his room?”
“Oh, Willow, calm down,” the nurse said, getting up from her desk and hugging my shoulders.
Her tone and the way she kind of patted me on the back like I was a child let me know that everyone here was sick of how often I freaked out. But I couldn’t help it— I was known to speak my mind and be a little high strung and hyper no matter what the occasion, and who could blame me for being worried in such a situation? I was glad the nurses were kind but I was beginning to realize I was getting on their nerves.
“He’s fine,” the nurse continued. “He was just moved to another room in the hospital.”
I breathed a shaky sigh of relief and wiped my eyes.
The nurse took me to another station. While I stood to the side waiting, trying my very best to be patient— which certainly was not my strong suit— she leafed through some papers and clicked around on her computer.
Willow, stop being weak. You need to be strong. If something had happened, they would’ve called the family. Breathe. Sam will be fine. Then you can nag him again about his annoying tendency to leave the toilet seat up.
This wasn’t fair. Sam was a good guy, and an awesome brother…when he didn’t leave the bathroom a mess.
“Here we go, he’s in the north wing of the hospital in room 24B. I’ll take you there. It can get confusing trying to get over to that wing of the hospital.”
She smiled at me, her humanity winning out— or maybe she was just happy to be getting rid of me— but either way, I was grateful.
I smiled back at her. “Thank you.”
On our way over, the nurse started an idle chatter about her family. I guess it was to soothe my nerves. Every word she said went in one ear and out the other.
I tried to pay attention as she told me something about her plans for the weekend including a family barbeque, and then asking me what my plans were. I had tunnel vision, thinking that I would just be here all weekend, of course. All I cared about was my brother.
It was hard enough that Mom and Dad were too busy to come see him very much. But if I had to look out for him by myself, then I would. Lord knew he’d looked out for me often enough.
“Okay, we’re in the north wing, and his room is right down the hall.”
I ran ahead of her, counting the rooms as I passed each door.
There. I found it.
I waved at the nurse and she waved back, turning around to return to her station. Maybe she had never been annoyed with me, and it was all in my head. I seemed to be going crazy due to anxiety lately.
I pulled on the door and went inside.
“Sam! There you are.”
He didn’t respond. I knew he was in a coma, but every time I spoke to him, I felt like he’d magically wake up and say something.
Wake up, please wake up soon.
I wiped the hair from his forehead to the side. The bruises were going down, and he looked peaceful. They said he wasn’t in any pain, and I clung to that reassurance. I’d die if I knew he was in pain.
I settled into the chair next to his bed, getting comfortable for a long visit.
“So, I wanted to let you know that I’m trying my hand at bar tending,” I said, taking his hand. “It’s at this weird strip joint, but I’m not a stripper. I swear.”
His hand was warm, a good reminder that he was alive and could still come back to me.
“I don’t make money like the dancers, but the pay is decent, and the tips are too. I had to drop out of school though. Money has gotten tight with the family. But I’ll go back, okay? So don’t yell at me for dropping out. It’s just temporary.”
I rubbed his hand and looked at the monitors and machines that were attached to him.
“We’re suing that person who hit you,” I said with a sniffle, “but the courts are taking their time. We’re doing our best. You’ll be fine though. And maybe we’ll have a bigger house and you’ll have your own bathroom to mess up as much as you want.”
Who was I kidding? There was no way I could sit here and pretend I was Ms. Emotionless. I had a heart, and it was being stabbed repeatedly.
I wished I could’ve stopped him from going out that night. But how was I to know he would be hit?
I began humming, and then singing a song.
Don’t worry, be happy…
The song was as much for me as it was for him. I needed to remind myself that worrying didn’t do any good.
But as I continued to sing, I couldn’t help but smile, suppressing a giggle. It was a weird thing to be trying not to laugh in a hospital room, at one of my darkest hours. Yet it was also funny that I was singing, because Sam always used to tease me that I was tone deaf. When we were little he would yell, “NO SINGING” at me, and I would keep going, just to keep annoying him, which was my job as his sister.
It was a game we would play sometimes, on long car trips when we were bored, or while fishing down by the creek. He would tell me to stop singing because I would scare away the fish— they’d have to swim away from me because my voice was so bad. Or he’d tell Mom and Dad to kick me out of the car for subjecting everyone to my awful voice.
Even though it was a joke that was exaggerated out of proportion, I knew he was right— I couldn’t sing to save my life. But now I was hoping that I could sing to save his. I knew how ridiculous that sounded, but I had to focus on something to keep myself from going insane.
Suddenly, there were a few soft knocks at the door. I zipped my lips—another phrase Sam used to tell me to do while singing— and I turned around, to see a middle-aged man in a three-piece suit strolling in.
“You must be one of the Reigns. Related to Samual Reign, correct? How are you?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m Willow. His sister. And I guess I’m fine.”
I looked back at Sam and his host of machines, wanting to ask the guy how he thought I was, but refraining. Sometimes it takes everything I have to hold back my sarcastic comments.
“I’m sorry, we were just moved to this wing,” I told him. “Who are you?”
“I’m with the hospital administration,” he said brusquely. “Ms. Reign. I’d like to collect some other insurance info from you for your brother if you happen to know it.”
“You already have his info.” I wiped my eyes.
“I know,” he said, frowning, “but that insurance has called us and recently said they could no longer cover his medical needs.”
I jumped out of my chair.
“That’s impossible! He’s still on our parents’ insurance! What about that man who hit him? He was taken here too, right? Why don’t you ask him?”
The man checked his clipboard.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Reign. But he passed away this morning.”
I pushed past the doctor and ran down the hallway. Why did all of this bad luck have to happen? That was my brother in there, and all the hospital cared about was money.
I bumped into people, I tripped on a person’s leg, but no matter what obstacle was in my path to slow me down, I had to get out of that hospital. I couldn’t sit there with Sam knowing that he would think he was one more bill we had to pay.
For the first time since the accident, I hoped he couldn’t hear what was going on around him. I didn’t want him to find out that there was no money to help him get better, because then he might give up.
Chapter 2 – Willow
When I got to the bus stop, I broke down crying.
I pulled out my cell phone and through my blurry vision, I pushed the fast dial button for my father.
“Hey there, darling. How are you?” my father asked.
“Daddy! The hospital said the insurance is gone. They said the insurance dropped him. And the guy who hit him is dead!”
He sighed, leaving a few moments of silence between us before he responded.
“Willow, darling, I already knew about that. We’re trying to work something out, your mother and I.”
My grip around the phone tightened.
“What? You knew and didn’t tell me?” my voice shook. “I visit him every damn day. I’m the only person who comes to see him and you didn’t tell me?”
“Willow, please,” he said wearily. “You know─”
I hung up. I hated when my father got that patronizing tone, and I knew it wasn’t worth fighting with him. I was hurt that he didn’t trust me to inform me about things, but, I had learned by now that there was nothing I could do about it.
The bus arrived and opened its doors. I looked at it blankly. I still couldn’t get over the fact that my parents had known about this and hadn’t told me.
I dragged myself on the bus and slid my transfer card through the machine.
My body felt lifeless. Sam deserved better than this. My family had fallen apart after that car incident. And I was beginning to think it wasn’t going to come back together again.
Instead of returning home, I stopped by the local social services and got a bunch of papers containing information for places that helped with medical bills. A brief review, however, only delivered more gloom and doom to my already awful news. Medicaid wasn’t going to cover it, we couldn’t afford a new private policy, and the churches that were on the list only offered medical care up to a hundred dollars.
I threw the papers away and opted to walk to work to clear my head. It’s going to be fine. Sam might just wake up and come out of this. He’s always been a lucky bastard. He really needs to pull one of his larger than life stunts now.
I was remembering a time when we were little and Sam took me for a ride on our cousin’s ATV. He was going too fast and ran into a fence. We both went flying off the vehicle but Sam remained unscathed, whereas I ended up in the hospital with a broken arm.
At th
e time, I had been mad at him for endangering me without experiencing any consequences himself. I always thought he would never learn. But, looking back now, I can’t help but smile a little bit at his luck, and hope that it continues now in his adulthood, when he so desperately needs it most.
Ten minutes later I had finally arrived at my job, which gave me a little comfort. At least I had something else to focus on. As soon as I walked into the bar, my boss looked at me, raising an eyebrow.
“Well hello there, Willow. You’re half an hour early. Something I can help you with?”
“Hey Mr. Brent. Just wanted to come here early,” I told him. “I don’t have anything else to do.”
“Hmm, well okay. You know I don’t pay overtime.”
He gestured with his cigar, and a few ashes fell to the bar. My boss was a rough around the edges type of guy, to put it nicely, who liked to proudly declare that he had registered with the city as a cigar bar for a special license, so that no one could tell him he couldn’t smoke his cigar in his own damn establishment.
I shook my head and looked for a rag to wipe the ashes off. “Yeah, I know.”
I worked around the bar, cleaning bottles and shot glasses. Mr. Brent didn’t seem to care, as long as, I didn’t clock in yet. Once my shift had officially started, I began asking customers what they would like to drink.
Late afternoon settled in as I walked back and forth, pouring beer and mixing cocktails and trying to make small talk with the customers. It was hard in a place like this, where the kind of small talk they wanted to make involved the words, “Show us your tits.”
Try as I might, I couldn’t forget my brother’s predicament. Sam’s peaceful face in my mind tore me apart. How long would it be before they took him off the machine? Could they do that; was it even legal? I couldn’t see how this would be any different than murder if my brother died because of the lack of money.
One of the dancers sat down at the bar table and took out a wad of cash. She began to count it, and I couldn’t help but stare at it like it was a beacon of light.
I knew they made money.
But that looked like cash sufficient to pay off medical bills type of money.
