by Alyse Zaftig
Table of Contents
Part 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Part 2
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Fake Marrying Her Dad’s Best Friend
Alyse Zaftig
Contents
Part I
1. First Day
2. Treadmill
3. Running to Work
4. Storytime
5. Tiny Fingers
6. Visiting Camilla
7. Overtime
8. Temporary Move
9. Thai Dinner
10. Butterfly Kisses
11. Vanilla at Dawn
12. Spit Bubbles
13. Bristly Kisses
14. Chicken BLT
Part II
15. Guardianship
16. Proposal
17. Eating Mee Goreng
18. Ring
19. Marriage
20. Wedding Night
21. Bubble Bath
22. Shower
23. Morning After
24. Dismissal
25. Hot Tub
26. Danny’s Back
27. Secretary’s Confrontation
28. Dumping
29. Waking Up
30. Hyperemesis Gravidarum
31. Afternoon Nap
32. Toast
33. Custody
34. Telling My Dad
35. Boxing
Epilogue: Mother’s Day
From the Author
Part 1
Chapter 1
First Day
Elia
Outside of the nursery, the phone rings. Danny, the baby that literally fell asleep thirty seconds ago, opens his blue eyes and begins to scream.
I didn’t know that he was such a fussy baby before I took this job. When he’s well-rested, he’s the best baby in the world. He’s a hell-demon when he’s tired and he never wants to go to sleep, even if his eyes keep drifting shut. I guess his screams didn’t carry over to my house, which is next door.
“Danny, sweetheart, time to sleep.”
The volume of his screams just gets louder. I can hear his dad on the phone, possibly with mine. They’re business partners. Jeff has been working from home most of the time lately, because he’s had a terrible time keeping nannies for his son.
And Day 1 of being his temporary nanny, I can see why. I love Danny and have since the moment I saw his tiny little baby face and smelled his intoxicating baby scent, but he has colic and refuses to sleep, which means that his little lungs get a big workout very frequently.
I can hear a door closing and wince. My dad will definitely be calling back and telling me to take better care of Danny. I was a model baby and didn’t have colic, so I’ll have to explain what’s going on.
Things would be much easier if Danny’s mother hadn’t died in childbirth. Alongside grieving for his wife, Jeff has had to adjust to caring for a baby. Danny doesn’t cry as much when his dad is taking care of him. He only has one parent and seems to be firmly attached to Jeff. Jeff loves his kid, it's true, but he also has a business to run.
"Come here, sweetheart," I say as his face gets even redder. I hold him over my right shoulder. He nuzzles his face into my shoulder as his screams fade into hard hiccups that shake his whole body. "I know you want your daddy, but he's busy right now." I walk in a slow circle around the nursery. After the two-dozenth time, I feel Danny's tiny body relax. He isn't making much noise now. I cautiously turn my head to see that his little eyes are closed.
"Time to go down again, little one," I say. I start to remove him from my shoulder, but his eyes burst open and his mouth opens like he's about to start screaming again.
"Okay, okay," I say, and his eyes close. I'm starting to get tired, though. There's no bed in here besides Danny's crib, and it's not going to work for me. I think about walking downstairs to the couch, but it makes me nervous to walk downstairs with a sleepy and fussy baby in my arms.
I can think of an easy solution. Jeff won't come upstairs for a while, so I go and sneak into the master bedroom. It smells like him, like pine and musk. He has another crib in here so that he can take care of Danny at night. It's literally adjacent to his bed.
"I guess your daddy doesn't get much action these days, huh? His whole life is centered around you, munchkin." I settle Danny into his crib, keeping a light hand on his soft tummy. He doesn't seem to be upset, although his mouth opens in a gigantic yawn.
"There you go, little guy." Maybe the fact that the whole room smells like his father is helping. I yawn. I think yawns are contagious. As I watch Danny's eyes shut, I can feel mine slipping downwards. I can close my eyes for just a few minutes. Nobody will know.
"Your father will murder me." I wake up to the sound of Jeff's voice. Despite the words, his tone is light.
"What?" I murmur, blinking in the bright sunlight. "Where am I?"
"My bed," Jeff says, laughing a little. "Danny isn't awake yet, so speak softly." I look at the screaming hell-demon, who looks like a perfect angel.
"He wants his father," I say.
Jeff touches one soft cheek. "I know."
"You seem stressed out," I say. I think that losing his wife aged him five years.
"I got some bad news today," he says. "When I created my living trust, my wife and I agreed that all of our property would go to each other in the event of our deaths and to our not-yet-born son if we were both dead." "What's the bad news?"
"The way that we set it up was slightly ambiguous. I didn't actually use her name. We didn't catch it until after she died. Half of my assets belong to my wife."
"You don't have one...so your business shares just belong to you, right?"
"You'd think so, but Danny's grandparents, my in-laws, are claiming that Danny owns half of my half of the company and want to be custodians of it."
"But that would mess everything up," I say.
"Yup," Jeff says. "But I'll work it out. You can go home now, Elia."
I roll out of bed. I'm sure that I'm a crumpled mess. "See you tomorrow."
"Bye," he says, pushing his son's hair off of his tiny forehead. I can see the deep sadness etched there in an unguarded moment. I wish I could help, but what can I do?
I walk home and can smell that my dad already has dinner ready. It’s eggplant lasagna with a huge amount of cheese on top. My dad has it in the warmer and is cutting slices now. He gives us both generous portions.
“Welcome home, honey.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I go to grab utensils out of the drawer and set the table. Soon as we’re sitting down and saying grace before digging in.
"You need to take better care of Danny," my dad says without any preamble. He has on his commander voice.
"Whatever, Dad." I poke at my lasagna. I’m not sure if I even like eggplant.
"I mean it
, honey," he says, slicing another bite off of his helping of lasagna. "You need to take good care of that baby. Jeff is overwhelmed with the new potential lawsuit. His in-laws are offering to settle for a ridiculous amount of shares. It would jeopardize the business."
"I know, Dad. He already told me." I stand up, my half-eaten lasagna in my hands. "I'm not hungry anymore."
My dad lets me walk away this time. I go downstairs to my exercise bike and turn on my favorite album for biking, Britney Spears' Blackout.
I feel half awake, listening to the pounding beat as I do a program that takes me up several hills. What a strange feeling today to wake up in Jeff's bed. It was Danny's fault, of course. Who knew that he hated sleeping alone? The attachment between Danny and Jeff was strong, which was good and bad. I just hoped that Jeff found a nanny before the end of the summer who could handle the baby.
To be honest, if I hadn't found out that putting Danny to bed in his dad's bedroom was the key, I have zero clue if I'd be willing to go back for a second round. Danny was a very cute baby, but only when he was happy or sleeping.
I decide that I want to screen Danny's permanent nanny. It would take a woman who had experience and patience to deal with Danny. They also wouldn't know Jeff well enough for him to be amused to find a woman in his bed, even the nanny.
Chapter 2
Treadmill
Jeff
I wipe the sweat off of my forehead with the towel I have draped over the top of the treadmill. Maybe if I run fast enough, I can outrun the memory of what Elia looked like asleep in my bed. She looks younger and even more innocent when she's asleep. She might be nineteen, but I was definitely not thinking about her like other teenagers.
I shouldn't be thinking about her at all. I should be dating women my own age, not my teenage next door neighbor whose father collects hunting rifles as a hobby. Eric would not hesitate to murder me, friendship and business partnership be damned. He is overprotective of his only child, the daughter that he has spoiled every second of every day of her life. Hell, I bet that she is untouched. Her father wouldn't allow her to date until she was 35, so she hasn't been out with any boys her age.
Her v-card isn't a gift that you'll get, I tell myself. It belongs to some fumbling teenage boy who'll hurt her in the back of a truck.
The bar on the front of my treadmill snaps from the pressure I put on it. The screws on the ends of the bar are bent. The thought of some kid hurting Elia makes me see red. I turn off the treadmill. It's clearly not helping.
I go into my bedroom. Danny is still asleep when I get into the shower. Am I a bad parent for leaving someone else to take care of my son? I never expected to be raising a kid on my own. I make the shower quick, just 5 minutes, because I don't want to wake the baby. When I get out, I wrap a towel around my waist and sit on my bed, watching the slow rise and fall of my child's round stomach. He has hair like his mother's. I'm dark blond, but she had light brown hair with a few light sunstreaks. There's nobody to see me get dust out of my eye, thinking of what she'd say, seeing me struggling with the baby. The two of us were supposed to be a team. We'd done all the pregnancy and parenting classes together. And the ridiculous irony of it was that all of that preparation was for nothing, because I never expected to be doing this alone.
I stop myself from my pity party. It won't change anything. I need to go downstairs to prep tonight's bottles. Danny doesn't sleep through the night. Unless I want to go downstairs for his feedings, I need to bring bottles up to the small fridge that's in my bedroom. A better father would buy a bottle warmer and keep it in the bedroom, but it's on my to-do list. I feel like the list is never-ending, since I'm running a business and have a small baby. Maybe I can ask Elia for help on the baby front.
I unwrap the towel and throw it onto the chair in the corner. I should put it up. My dead wife would've yelled at me for just throwing it there. But I can't care enough. I stretch out naked on the bed and think about sleeping.
But it doesn't come for several more hours.
Chapter 3
Running to Work
Elia
When I wake up, my hair is a total mess. I need to get to Jeff's house so that he can start an 8 o'clock meeting. I pretend that a thick hairband is all that I need to tame my hair (it's not) and throw on a dress before getting next door five minutes until the web conference starts. He's already hooked up in his office, with Danny in a baby carrier next to him. I crouch down to pick up Danny and sneak out of the room. I can see that his mike is live.
As I pick up the carrier, Danny's little eyes open. His face scrunches like he's about to cry as I pull him away from his father. And in another second, a wail begins to rise. I close the door hastily, which makes it slam. I wince as Danny's volume doubles.
"Shh," I say. "I'm sorry, little one."
Danny is screaming like I've lit him on fire. Tears are streaming down his face, and he's trying to rock himself out of the baby carrier, which is not particularly helpful. I lug him to the other side of the house and pull him out of the carrier. He's trying to push me away, but he's not that strong. His lungs certainly are, though.
"Shh, Danny, it's okay. You're okay."
The only response is screaming loud enough to permanently damage my eardrums. I stand up and walk in a slow circle around the living room, which helps. In a few minutes, Danny's sobs are quiet. His face is nuzzling my shoulder in a way that I would find cuter if it hadn't been preceded by extremely loud screaming.
"You're still sleepy, aren't you?" I rub his tiny little back. I can feel how soft and loose he is right now. I continue walking in a slow circle. He's just cranky when he wakes up. In another five minutes, his entire body is limp and he's breathing slowly. I ease him off of my shoulder and very gently place him in the carrier.
"Oh, Danny," I sigh. I tickle his foot. A smile flits across his face before getting lost. Sometimes the most valuable things have to be fought for. If Danny weren't a difficult baby, then I wouldn't be called in to watch this precious little angel snoozing. With Danny safely asleep, I go to the kitchen and mix some formula into a bottle that'll be ready when he wakes up. I don't know if Jeff fed him yet. It's better to be safe than sorry. I measure the right amount of formula into a bottle, add warm water, and shake it up. I test it on my wrist. It's too hot, so I set it aside.
I can hear the soft murmurs that mean that Jeff is still in the conference call. Danny's asleep, a miracle, so all I have to do is plan the day. Maybe we'll start with some fun books. Before she died, Jeff's wife stocked a huge bookshelf with baby books, the kind with thick pages that are harder for little ones to tear. I take two that I haven't read to Danny before and bring them into the living room. I can feel something in my throat that is making it hard to swallow. I'm tearing up a little bit. If his mom hadn't died, I wouldn't be planning on reading to him right now. I curl up on the couch and listen to Danny's steady breathing until I hear a hitch in his breath. When I open my eyes, he's looking right at me. He's frowning in a way that means that tears are 10 seconds away.
"Hey, little one," I say, pulling him onto the couch with me. I twist so that I'm on the outside and he's next to the back of the couch. "How are you feeling now?"
He lets out half a wail, like he's testing the waters. His heart doesn't really seem to be into it.
"None of that, now," I say sternly. I tickle his tummy, which brings a smile to his face. He seems torn between the impulse to giggle and the impulse to cry. Finally, he lets out a belly laugh, a chortle that makes me laugh, too.
"I love you," I say.
He beams at me and pats my face with more enthusiasm than accuracy. He's actually patting my earlobe and jawbone.
"It's the thought that counts," I tell Danny. He grins at me even more and then pushes his tiny fingers into my mouth. "Nom nom nom," I say, pretending to chomp on his fingers. He squeals in delight and touches my cheek with the saliva-covered fingers. It feels slimy.
"Ugh," I say, wiping off my cheek and u
sing his bib to wipe his hand. "Are you hungry? I made a bottle for you." I tell him, "Don't move an inch!" I run into the kitchen, grab the bottle, and then head back. He hasn't moved, just staring at me. I bring the nipple of the bottle to his mouth. He opens it but doesn't suck. He gnaws on it, which makes me wince in sympathy.
"Good thing I'm not attached to that, huh?"
He gets bored with the bottle and flings it from him. A few drops spill from the nipple. I sigh. "I guess your daddy already fed you, Danny." I pick it up and set it on the table. "Do you want to read books?"
"Ah," he says.
"I'll take that as a yes." I stand up and grab a thick cardboard book from the shelf. "Where are the eggs, Danny?" I read him a book about finding the eggs on a farm. He's engrossed, but I think that the book might not last long. There are flaps where you can see the animals, but the flaps are made of flimsy paper on top of the cardboard pages. I very gently pull them from his hands. He's still at the age where he puts everything in his mouth, and I don't think that the paper would be particularly palatable.
When we finish the egg book, he stares at the back cover intently.
"Are you reading the barcode, darling?" He just takes the book in both hands and slams it down on the floor.
