Going Deep_A Single Dad & Nanny Romance

by Kylie Parker

  I saved every dime I could and dreamed of one day getting out of this place –

  Of getting out of New York –

  Of

  going home…

  But one day, I got a call. Some sort of Nanny Agency called about a position I had been recommended for, and they wanted to interview me.

  I told them I no longer worked as a nanny, and thanked them for their generous consideration.

  However, they told me I came highly recommended by an up-and-coming family in New York, and when I asked them who had given them the referral, my stomach dropped and tears rose to my eyes.

  I never thought I would ever hear their names again.

  That woman who called to interview me was named Eleanor, and she had guided me through three different part-time positions. I found people in the city to be much pickier about their babysitters and nannies than I was used to, and after the last family fired me because I wasn’t using non-GMO foods to make their baby’s pureed foods, I had almost convinced myself to go back to the grocery store.

  That was until I got a phone call at four in the morning.

  “– One hundred thousand dollars?” I whispered.

  “Yep,” Eleanor popped out, “they said the job description entails being a full-time live-in nanny with responsibilities that range from keeping up with the child to cleaning up after yourself.”

  “So… every job as a nanny ever, then,” I sighed.

  “There’s a catch, though,” Eleanor said.

  “I figured there would be for that kind of money.”

  “I have to have a decision from you before we hang up. If you accept, you have to be over there with your things by 7:30 this morning.”

  “I have to be there with all my stuff in three hours?” I shrieked.

  “Yes,” Eleanor said.

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Some family wanted me to pack up my life in three hours, move to a place I couldn’t be told about to stay with a family I couldn’t meet beforehand, and take care of a child with whom I didn’t even know I’d be compatible!

  What the hell kind of job was this?

  But as my eyes panned around the room at the sleeping bodies on the floor of the dark, dank, empty apartment I was still residing in, I thought about the luxuries one hundred grand could afford me. I thought about the schooling I could save up for and the car I could finally purchase. I thought about the house I could save up for and the home I could finally create that was devoid of all the screaming and yelling and name-calling which had filled my past.

  I could afford health insurance for the tooth throbbing at the back of my jaw and aching toe I knew I had probably broken a week ago after stumbling out of the cold shower.

  Oh, god. I could take a hot shower…

  “I don’t really own much…” I trailed off.

  “Is that a yes?” Eleanor pressed.

  But my silence still gave away my hesitation, and Eleanor had one more trick up her sleeve.

  “Maddie… we vet every single client for safety and precautionary measures. This client is a last-minute client with a dire situation on their hands. They are lost, and have absolutely no idea what to do…”

  She knew I knew what that felt like.

  “And you’re sure this is safe?” I asked lowly.

  “I wouldn’t have taken on the client if I thought it wasn’t.”

  “Ok,” I breathed. “I’ll do it.”

  “Wonderful!” Eleanor exclaimed. “Pack your stuff up and be outside by seven sharp. Someone will be by to pick you up.”

  “I still don’t get to know where I’m going?” I whispered harshly.

  “Just do it,” Eleanor groaned.

  She knew something I didn’t. Something in her voice was absolutely giddy about the idea of this client. I didn’t know what she had up her sleeve and I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into, but already I was sucked into the emotional component of the entire situation. I knew what it felt like to be lost and alone, bobbing in a sea of colorless buoys as I searched for something to cling onto to keep from drowning.

  Anything to reach out to and grab.

  “And Maddie?” Eleanor asked.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Remember the rule,” she stated.

  And that statement, more than anything, caught my attention.

  I don’t know why she felt the need to say it, nor did I understand why she felt the need to remind me of it, but something in my gut told me this was no ordinary client.

  After all, when you need to remind a nanny to keep her emotional distance from a client, you know you’re in for an interesting ride.

  This meant my hands trembled the entire time as I began to pack my bags.

  3

  I smoothed my hands along my tailored Armani suit before I ran my hands through my hair. The baby was sleeping in the middle of my bed and the clock was ticking down, inching endlessly closer to the time of my meeting.

  Where the hell was this babysitter?

  The agency told me someone would be over by 7:30. They said she had agreed to the live-in stipulation and was coming with her things, and I sent the driver promptly at 6:40 to pick her up. I was about to grab my phone and call the driver before a sound caught my ear –

  The lightest groaning and stretching.

  I whirled around on my heels and watched as the baby shifted in my bed. I tip-toed over to the side of the bed as her big doe eyes fluttered open and I lost myself in the deep sea blue of her eyes.

  She had Gracie’s eyes…

  But that familiar sound started back up. The baby crinkled her nose and furrowed her brow, and the next thing I knew she was filling my room with the sounds of demons screaming just before she stopped.

  She just… stopped.

  She stopped, her face turned red, and then the sound of ketchup slipping from the nozzle of a bottle emanated from underneath her blanket…

  … And the smell of a sewer filled the corners of my room.

  “Jesus, fu–... seriously?”

  I put my arm over my nose as the child continued to look up at me, and when she watched me turn my back, she started up that sound again. That crying, wrenching, gasping-for-air sound that could have convinced anyone on the city block I was stabbing her with a fork.

  I looked at the clock just as it turned over to 7:30, and my blood began to boil with overboiling rage. I slammed my hand down onto my cell phone, and just as I went to scroll for my driver’s number, a heavy knock fell onto the door.

  “About damn time,” I murmured.

  I shoved my cell phone into my pocket and strode for the front door. The child was screaming and shitting in the middle of my California King-sized bed with satin sheets that cost more than that child’s current existence. So, when I flung the door open, the woman standing on the other side surprisingly trapped my eyes.

  She was wheeling a massive suitcase behind her and her ratty purse was tucked up onto her shoulder. Her long legs fed into meaty thighs that gave birth to a waist any man would want to sink his fingertips into, and as my eyes panned up to her perky, solid breasts, my mouth began to water before I finally caught a glimpse of her skin.

  Smooth and sun-kissed, bronzed from the summer sun and glistening in the natural light that shone around my shoulders.

  But that damn crying ripped me from my juicy analysis when the woman came quickly up beside me.

  “Where is she?” she said before she pushed by me.

  I watched her dump her dirty suitcase onto my pristine hardwood floor, and her dark brown hair wafted weightlessly around her shoulders before her body took off down the hallway.

  My long strides followed her, watching her as she worked her way into my penthouse suite.

  Like she already knew where everything was.

  She dipped into my bedroom, and when I turned the corner I saw her scoop the child off the bed before she crinkled her nose.

  “Any diapers anywhere?” she asked.
<
br />   It was when she looked at me that I caught the color of her eyes: brown with speckles of yellow that made her seem exotic in the morning sunlight that streamed behind her through the wide windows of my room. Her hair was haloed in yellows and oranges and her curves were accentuated by the beautiful New York skyline painted behind her body.

  If she wasn’t my babysitter, I’d have her right where she stood.

  “Sir?” she asked.

  I ripped myself from my trance before I stepped forward and offered her my hand.

  “Derek Blake,” I said.

  “Madeline Albright,” she responded. She didn’t take my hand but, instead, bounced the child in her arms. The crying quieted down and I watched the child nuzzle into her breasts, and I wondered what they would feel like against my cheek before she asked me another question.

  “Formula or breast milk?” she asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Do you have any diapers, and is she formula or breast-fed?” she asked again.

  “One and I don’t know,” I stated plainly.

  The look she gave me was a great one: confusion mixed with disgust with a little bit of hesitation thrown in for good measure. It came as no shocker that the child would quiet down for her. After all, this was her profession. I’m sure all children took to her just fine.

  “Could you show me where that one diaper is, then?” she asked.

  I turned and walked out of the room before I heard her steps patter up behind me. The child was cooing and spitting, and I felt an odd sense of relief wash over me at the idea of someone being here to help. It was obvious I had no idea what I was supposed to do, and having someone here to do it for me meant one less thing I had to worry about before this meeting.

  Oh shit… I had forgotten about the meeting.

  I showed her to the basket that was still in the kitchen before I slipped my wallet from my pocket and handed her a card.

  “This card’s hooked up to my account, get whatever you need for her,” I said as I motioned to the baby. “I have a meeting I have to get to, so she’s all yours.”

  “Wait a second,” Madeline said. “Does she have any allergies, or special needs, or supplements to take?”

  “Honestly? I really don’t know,” I chuckled before I threw my hands up in the air.

  “Well, where’s her nursery? Her crib? Her changing table?” Madeline rattled off.

  “Really; I don’t know,” I shouted back before my hand landed on the doorknob.

  “Well, where’s my room?” she yelled at me as she stood at the other end of the hallway.

  “Choose any one that’s not mine! I don’t care!”

  I stepped out the front door and closed it behind me before I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, I was out and away from this nightmare, and as long as the babysitter had access to funds I knew she wouldn’t bother me.

  Probably.

  “Ready to go, sir?” my driver asked me.

  “Yes,” I breathed. I straightened out my jacket and started down the hallway, and just before I got to the elevator I heard her voice ricochet down the hallway.

  “Did you even bother to name her?” the babysitter yelled out.

  I whipped my head around to look at her as rage bubbled in the pit of my stomach. That child wasn’t my responsibility. Had I been there for her birth, of course I would have named her! I didn’t even know Gracie was pregnant! I didn’t know I had a daughter!

  I didn’t know shit about any of this!!

  “Of course,” I chuckled. “Her name’s Clara.”

  And with that, I stepped into the elevator and left the babysitter to her job.

  4

  I watched him step into the elevator as shock ran across my face. This man, this… this pompous, arrogant man… had a child he knew nothing about. He just threw his money at me and expected me to take care of everything. The child didn’t even have diapers!

  That was the first thing I was about to rectify.

  What a windbag. He probably screwed some chick and left her to fend for herself. Men like him didn’t give women a second glance after they dumped themselves inside of them. To men like him, it didn’t matter if the woman was in love or hurting or looking for some drunken rebound.

  All they wanted to do was stick their dicks in them before leaving and never coming back.

  It serves him right for being a jerk.

  I sighed as I bounced the small child in my arms. Clara was sound asleep in what I assumed was the only pair of clothes she had, and I was at a loss on how to change that situation: I couldn’t take her anywhere because I didn’t have a car seat, but I needed to get in a car and go somewhere to get her a car seat!

  “Would you like me to call for a driver?”

  The voice spooked me and caused me to jump. I clung onto Clara while I clutched the credit card in my hand, and all she did was bury deeper into my chest as the man, who had very kind eyes, spoke again.

  “I’m Franz: the doorman downstairs.”

  “Do doormen make it a habit of hanging out on the top floor of their work places?” I huffed to cover my surprise.

  But all he did was look at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I breathed. “No. No I don’t need a driver because I can’t take her anywhere. She doesn’t have a car seat.”

  “So, you need a computer,” he stated.

  “Yeah; and I don’t have one of those.”

  “Mr. Blake does,” Franz smiled.

  “Are you and he close? You seem to know a great deal about his… home,” I chewed.

  “Your home now, as well, if I’m not mistaken,” Franz stated.

  “No, my workplace,” I corrected.

  “Then it looks like you and I will have the same habit,” he quipped.

  “What habit?” I breathed.

  “–The habit of hanging out on the top floor of our workplace.”

  The statement made me chuckle. Franz’s smile was kind, and it crinkled his deep brown eyes as they twinkled with joy. His face was young but the wrinkles in his hands betrayed his age, and the slight curve in his back boasted of a forming hunch, maybe because of arthritis, or maybe because he had always been a hard worker.

  Either way, his presence was comforting.

  “Mr. Blake is… very well-known in this area. If you call any baby store, I am sure someone can hand-deliver you a car seat,” Franz said.

  “You think?” I asked.

  But before he was able to answer, Clara woke up crying. She started out with a muffled sob which soon grew into a bombastic statement. When her fingers began to migrate to her mouth, my eyes frantically darted around for her bottle. I made my way back to the kitchen, still clutching the foreign plastic object in my hand, and when I found the bottle I popped the top and gave her what was left.

  “That’s definitely formula,” I murmured while I studied the liquid she was gulping down.

  “You think grocery stores would do the same thing?” I called out.

  “I think they would, yes,” Franz said from behind me.

  “Jesus Christ! Don’t you make noise when you walk?” I giggled.

  And I was met, once again, with that comforting smile.

  “The laptop Mr. Blake uses at home is sitting behind you in the breakfast nook. If you need me, just press the blue button on the intercom by the door. I’ll be up in a hurry.”

  That statement radiated comforting warmth throughout my system.

  “You sound like a father,” I smiled lightly.

  And with that statement, I watched his kind smile fall.

  “Good luck, Miss…”

  “... Madeline,” I filled in.

  “Good luck, Miss Madeline.”

  And with that, he turned on his heels and left.

  I wondered what I had said wrong. I never intended to make the man upset, merely to compliment him on how warm he made me feel. I was so sure I was making a new friend in this wild world I had been thrust into, but instead I had simply made
him angry. So, I sighed with Clara in my arms and turned around to glance at the laptop.

  “Please be unlocked,” I pleaded.

  I sat down in the nook and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the search engine open on the screen. The first thing I needed to do was phone a grocery store to buy this child some formula. I had no idea what kind to get, but I’m sure someone could help me.

  Right?

  I typed in “nearby grocery stores” and picked the closest one. When I called, a very hasty man answered on the other line.

  “Hello?” he rattled.

  “Yes. Hi. My name is Madeline Albright, and I was wondering if you could help me with some questions on baby formula,” I stated.

  “You lookin’ for a specific kind? Got WIC?” he asked.

  “Um… I, uh, don’t know what WIC is?”

  “What kind ya lookin’ for?” he sighed into the phone.

  “I’m not really sure. I’m uh… well, I’m a new babysitter, and the infant doesn’t have anything in the house to eat. I was hoping you could help me figure out which formula you had would be best for infants to start out eating.”

  “Ma’am, can you please hold?”

  But he didn’t give me a chance to respond before Mozart was blasting way too loud in my ear.

  I sat on hold while Clara drained the rest of her bottle, and when she was done I put the phone on speaker so I could pluck the bottle off my chest. I had gotten very good at this balancing act during my time as a nanny, and I knew I had to burp her before she fell back asleep.

  No use having projectile vomit on the first day of work.

  “Ma’am?” an unfamiliar female voice asked.

  “Yes! Hello! I’m here,” I stated.

  “We don’t have anyone that can talk you through all the formulas we have here. You just gon’ hafta come down and see.”

  “Well, I can’t. I don’t have a car seat for the infant yet,” I said.

  “You ain’t gotta car seat for your baby?” she asked.

  “Well, you see, it’s not my baby. I-I-I’m a new nanny in the area,” I stammered.