7+Us Makes Nine: A Nanny Single Dad Romance (Baby Makes Three)

by Nicole Elliot

  But then, my mind started sinking into other thoughts.

  All this talk about pregnancy had me calculating my last period. I checked my purse to make sure I had a tampon on me just in case it happened at the party. I knew I was close. I hadn’t had one this month yet. That much I was sure of.

  Wait, had I had one last month?

  My eyes danced around the backyard as I pulled out my phone. I charted my period like a crazy person. I always stayed on top of my health. I was always conscious of what I put in my body and things like that. I’d always been that way. I couldn’t control a lot of what was around me, but I could control what I ate and the type of products I used. I flipped through my calendar and had to slide back two entire months before I saw the last charting of my period.

  Two months?

  It had been two months since my last period?

  I stuffed my phone back into my purse and drew in a deep breath. Stress. It had to be stress. This thing with Anya and my sister was getting to all of us. I closed my eyes and went to bring the glass of wine to my lips, but I stopped myself.

  If I was, then I didn’t need to be drinking it.

  “Catherine? You okay?” Emma asked.

  “I actually need a bathroom,” I said.

  “Uh oh. Yep. Go on inside. Go upstairs and use my bathroom. Help yourself to anything you need.”

  “That is one great thing about pregnancy,” Emma said. “No fucking periods.”

  “Thanks. I’m so sorry. I’ll be right back,” I said.

  I took my glass of wine inside so nothing would look suspicious. I placed it down on the kitchen counter, then raced up to Carter and Natasha’s room. I slammed my way into their bathroom and closed the door, then locked it immediately behind me. I went and sat on the toilet and focused. I paid attention to my back. My chest. My stomach. My hips. Anything I knew that would ache with the oncoming storm of my period. I sat there for a little while, willing my period to start.

  But even though I searched for symptoms, none of them popped up.

  I wiped myself just to be sure and sighed when I didn’t see anything. Fuck. This couldn’t be happening. I wasn’t really pregnant, right? I wanted children, sure. But not now.

  And certainly not with the man I’d been sleeping with.

  Well, that wasn’t actually true. I’d be honored to have Jace’s kids. But not with what we were doing. Being his nanny and having the kind of baggage we did with our families? At least Natasha and Carter didn’t have the baggage of their families. But we did. Both of us did. Anya and my parents and Hannah. They’d all work to tear us apart.

  I stood up from the toilet and pulled my dress down, situating myself as I looked in the mirror.

  I washed my hands at the sink before I got curious. Natasha did say to help myself to anything she had. So I opened the bathroom counters below her sink and began rifling around. Pads. Tampons. Curling irons of all shapes and sizes. Unused makeup and extra bottles of shampoo and conditioner.

  I almost gave up my search until I saw them.

  Stuffed in the very back.

  “Gotcha,” I said.

  I reached back and plucked a pregnancy test from the box in the back. I had no idea if she’d have any in her bathroom, but I was glad she did. I tucked the test away in my purse and told myself I’d take it if my period didn’t start within the next week. If I went another week without one, then that would be almost ten weeks without a period.

  Which wasn’t normal for me.

  Even if stress was involved.

  Twenty-One

  Jace

  Work was long. Hard. Grueling. And the second I got into my car, I was ready to be done with it. Preparing for a weekend full of shows was rough, but doing it while still allowing Catherine the time she required was harder. Having a live-in nanny was a help on many occasions, but it seemed as if it couldn’t help with everything. Coordination with the kids was paramount, and even then one of us still had to compromise.

  Like with her garden party last weekend.

  I pulled up into the driveway and breathed a sigh of relief. I knew the kids would already be in bed. At least, they should be. And when I saw most of the lights of in the house, I figured Catherine was in bed as well. She hadn’t been staying up for me this past week like she usually did, and I wondered if something was going on. Was she feeling okay? Had I done something to upset her? Were the kids running her that ragged?

  Either way, I felt my heart drop.

  After a long day at work, I was hoping to spend my evening in her arms.

  I pulled myself out of my car and dragged myself up to the porch. I fumbled with my keys before I figured out the door was still unlocked. My entire body went on alert. Catherine would have never fallen asleep without locking the front door. But it didn’t look like anyone was awake. I pushed the door open and stepped in, then dropped my briefcase and slid my suit coat off my shoulders.

  I wanted to call out her name, but I didn’t want to wake up the kids.

  I walked down the hallway and around the corner and found her sitting on the couch. Her head was bowed, and a heavy sigh left her lips. It looked like she was carrying the weight of the universe on her shoulders. I walked around the couch and saw her clutching a glass of water, and droplets of it were dripping over the edge.

  Her hands were shaking terribly, and my immediate thought was that Anya had done something.

  “Catherine?”

  “Oh my gosh!”

  She jumped, spilling water everywhere.

  “Jace. I didn’t realize you’d gotten home yet,” she said. “I need to get a towel. Hold on.”

  “I’ve got it, you stay there,” I said.

  I went into the kitchen and got a towel as another heavy sigh left her lips. I’d never seen Catherine so exhausted and preoccupied. She’d been with the kids and I for almost three months, and this was the first time I felt nervous around her. Anya had to have done something. The only time she was anywhere near this jumpy was after that phone call in the park. I walked the towel over to her and she took it, her hands still trembling as she cleaned up the mess.

  “I’m so sorry, Jace.”

  “It’s just water. It’ll dry,” I said.

  “Not about that,” she said.

  She set the towel on the coffee table before reaching around her side. And when she pulled it out, my blood froze in my veins. Her eyes studied my face as she handed me the little device. That small stick Anya had surprised me with over three years ago.

  And the glaring plus sign made my stomach clench.

  “When did you take this?” I asked.

  “Today,” Catherine said.

  “Is this the only one you took?”

  “No. There are two others in the trash can in my bathroom.”

  My eyes panned up to her and I could see the fear blooming in her eyes. But it wasn’t fear blooming in my stomach. It was a warmth. A joyous glee. A happiness unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I raked my eyes up and down her form as a grin slid across my face, and I watched the confusion pour over hers.

  “You’re pregnant,” I said.

  “We’re pregnant,” Catherine said.

  I threw my arms around her and pulled her into my lap. I buried my face into her neck, holding her beautiful essence in my arms. Holy shit. Catherine was pregnant. This beautiful, graceful, kind, luxurious woman was pregnant with my child. I couldn’t stop kissing her. I couldn’t stop tasting her. I felt her body trembling as her from gave way to a smile, and soon she was giggling into my shoulder as I stood up and spun her around.

  “You’re pregnant!”

  “You’re going to wake the kids, Jace.”

  Then, reality struck me like a knife to my gut.

  I settled us back down onto the couch as Catherine straddled my lap. Her hands slid up my shoulders as her hands cupped my neck. I looked into her stunning eyes and saw relief trickle through them.

  But I soon started feeling overwhelmed.<
br />
  “Okay. We need to talk,” I said.

  “You know, I’m usually scared of those words,” Catherine said with a grin.

  “You know Anya’s been on a rampage,” I said.

  “In the media, yes. I’ve been keeping up with it for the sake of the kids.”

  “We have to keep this a secret.”

  I watched her face drop and it broke my heart.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Anya is blowing up the tabloids and it’s putting a lot of pressure on me. I keep talking with my lawyer, but there are rumors of her contesting the custody agreement anyway. And if, on some strange planet, Anya can make a solid case for the kids, I don’t want this new development hurting them in any way.”

  “Hurting them?” she asked. “How in the world could this hurt them?”

  “She could use the tabloids to twist this as a reckless mistake. She could use it to paint the fact that the home is unstable because I’m sleeping with my nanny with the kids under the same roof.”

  “Everyone’s got a sex drive, Jace. And if my being the nanny is a big deal, then stop paying me. I’ve got more than enough money to get by for a very long time. We don’t have to hide this kid.”

  “It’s not forever-”

  “Do you even understand what you’re asking?”

  I did. I knew exactly what I was asking. And I knew it was shitty of me. I knew it was a terrible thing to ask of her. It meant not telling her friends. Not telling her family. Not experiencing the public glee that comes with being pregnant. But my ex-wife was on a rampage and the media was following her heavily, and we had to tread lightly.

  All of us did.

  “I know you’re disappointed in my response,” I said.

  “Disappointed doesn’t even begin to describe it,” she said as she slid off my lap. “My child isn’t shameful.”

  “I’m not saying that.”

  “My child isn’t a secret to be kept. All last weekend, I listened to my friends tell their beautiful stories about how they told the fathers of their children they were pregnant. How they rejoiced and how those men brought them comfort in a time when they were the most afraid. And I’m petrified, Jace. I’m scared when it comes to the idea of giving you a child, and you want me to hide away? That’s your response.”

  “I have other kids I have to think about. Children that are already here and reaping the awful benefits of their circumstance.”

  “And you think I don’t care about that?” she asked. “I’ve cared for them like they’re my own for the past three months. Taught them. Coached them. Fed them and cleaned up after them, like you asked me to do. Like you hired me to do. We aren’t this terrible thing to be hidden. You’ll never be able to convince me that my being pregnant could somehow jeopardize the custody of your other children.”

  “I just want us to be safe, Catherine.”

  “You said that custody agreement was ironclad. Your lawyer told you that. I was leaning against you when you had that phone conversation.”

  “Catherine, please try to understand. This isn’t about keeping secrets or… or being ashamed. I’m so excited to be having a child with you. I’m so beyond elated that you’re pregnant. But Anya is out to destroy right now. She’s angry, and high, and hell-bent on taking this family down if she doesn’t get what she wants. And she’s using the media to manipulate that circus parade of hers.”

  “Then put out statements, Jace! Fight her!”

  “It’s not that simple. Not with someone who’s drug-addled. You of all people should know that,” I said.

  The tears welling in her eyes broke my heart. I reached out for her, but she took a step away from me. Like my touch was revolting to her. I felt a piece of my heart break off and fall to the floor when she crinkled her nose in disgust at my outstretched hand.

  “Why is it always about Anya?” Catherine said with a whisper.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Why is it always about someone else?” she asked.

  I furrowed my brown in confusion as Catherine slid her hand through her hair.

  “It’s always about someone else,” she said. “Always. Hannah. Or Anya. Or my friends. Or the kids. It’s always about someone else but me. And for once, I want it to be about me. I know that’s selfish and I know that’s immature, but I’m always put on the backburner. I’m always the one that’s shoved into a hole or hidden away.”

  “I’m not hiding-”

  “Yes you are, Jace!”

  I was shocked at the volume her voice jumped.

  “You are hiding me. Our child. And you can tell yourself it’s for a good reason all you want. Maybe it is. But at least call a spade a spade, Jace. Because you’re better than that. You're hiding us away now. Covering up your tracks instead of standing strong against the decision you made with me every night after we put those kids to bed. I understand. I know you have to keep Anya at bay. I know you have to protect them, because I’ve been doing that as well. Protecting your children, Jace. But that doesn’t mean I still don’t feel jilted from the happiness my friends have boasted about every single time I sit down with them. This is supposed to be the happiest moment in a woman’s life, and you’re telling me to hide away.”

  I felt sick to my stomach, because I knew she was right.

  “For once, I wish it wasn’t about the drug-addled woman. For once, I wish it was just about me.”

  Then she turned on her heels, left the room, and closed the door to her bedroom.

  I wanted to go after her, but I didn’t think it would solve anything. Fuck. I raked my hands down my face and groaned into the empty space of my living room. I understood how she felt. So many times I’d had to lock myself and the kids away because of Anya’s insanity. Because of her instability. And I hated it. I hated that I couldn't celebrate this with her. That we couldn't parade it around and go to the doctor and rejoice by going out to eat. I hated that she couldn't call every single one of her friends and yell and scream and just and cry and smile with them.

  But I had other children to protect as well. Other children that needed my focus and my help and my protection. Children that were already here. I had to do whatever it took to keep this away from the mess I’d made. The mess I’d caused. No matter how much it hurt Catherine and no matter how much it hurt me in the process. They were helpless. Defenseless. And until I knew for a fact that Anya couldn't touch those children, even if she did take us back to court, then I would have to keep doing what it took.

  I also knew that continuing to do that could cost me Catherine. The woman carrying my child. The woman who had single-handedly come in and brightened up my home. The woman who had flipped everything on its head and brought a beauty into my life I thought was long gone.

  The woman carrying my heart.

  “Shit,” I said harshly.

  What the hell had I gotten myself into?

  Twenty-Two

  Catherine

  I flushed the toilet and wiped at my mouth. Morning sickness was a bitch. And I couldn't even call anyone to complain about it. I stood at the sink and splashed some water in my face, trying to wake myself up a bit. The exhaustion was treacherous. I’d sleep all through the night and still want to lay back down and sleep all through the day as well. The bags underneath my eyes were heavy, and there were times when cleaning and laundry didn’t get done and pizza was ordered for dinner just so I could snuggle back underneath the covers and go back to sleep.

  My only saving grace was that Michaela had started preschool full-time. So from eight in the morning until three in the afternoon, the house was calm. Silent. If I could muster the energy to clean until eleven, then I had four hours to sleep until the busses came around to drop the kids off. I didn’t want to let Michaela right the bus. I still thought she was too young. But her preschool had a bus that drove around town with all of the teachers to pick up the kids. And the bus had seat belts as well as lots of adult supervision. Plus, she wanted to ride the bus like her
brothers.

  She was adamant about it.

  But lately, the news had my attention. I’d turned on the television Jace’s room more in the past two weeks than I had in my entire life. His television was the only one in the house, and every time I turned it on I realized why. Anya’s face was splashed along the screen. Her words constantly scrolled underneath ‘breaking news’ stories. For the past month, she had been shouting at the void of the media that she was working on getting her children back.

  And the problem with that was she looked better with each interview.

  Jace and I had fought over two weeks ago, and walking around one another was hard. I still harbored anger and resentment towards him, but the more I watched Anya on television the more that anger turned to our circumstance. With each passing interview, she looked a little clearer. Her words weren’t as slurred. The color had come back to her features. And for the most recent interviews, it looked almost like she was sober.

  No wonder Jace was worried.

  The media was eating this story up. They enjoyed the ‘angel fallen from grace’ story. They also enjoyed the redemption story, and the media was constantly asking questions like ‘will Anya and Jace rekindle their Hollywood love story?’ and ‘will we see the dynamic duo reunite their families for good?’

  Tears rushed my eyes and I quickly turned off the television.

  I was angry. Frustrated. But less at Jace and more at the circumstance. If we were public, they wouldn’t be asking questions like that. The media wouldn’t be asking if Anya and Jace would be ‘reuniting their lost love’ or some bullshit. But there was a chance they would skew our relationship. Make it seem salacious and dirty. Like Jace had dropped his standards to sleep with his nanny and was now owning up to his mistake.