5+Us Makes Seven: A Nanny Single Dad Romance

by Nicole Elliot

  Like she couldn’t bear to be disconnected from me.

  “I would’ve moved to the bed, but it isn’t on the frame yet.”

  “I think the couch suited us just fine,” I said breathlessly.

  “I’m sorry for the mess,” Natasha said.

  “No reason to be sorry for that. I admire your independence.”

  “What?”

  “How you’ve paved a way for yourself. Finding your own lot in life and stuff like that. It’s… a good thing.”

  “And stuff like that,” she said with a giggle.

  “My mind’s a little… fucked right now,” I said.

  “A big, bad billionaire reduced to childish syllables. I think I did my job.”

  “You have no idea what you did to me,” I said.

  My eyes locked with hers and she pressed her lips to mine. It was a sweet little kiss. Not feverish or desperate, nor was it dripping with anything other than softness. I pulled her closer into me as her face dropped to my neck, and her lips began peppering my shoulder with kisses. Electricity zipped through my veins. I was going to miss this. I hadn’t felt this way with anyone since my wife. She made it easy to bring down my walls and she was a hell of a way to wind down from a long day at work.

  But I knew she wanted to keep things platonic for the kids, and I was on board for that idea.

  The kids came first, no matter how she made me feel.

  I laid on the couch with her until she fell asleep. Her breathing was steady against my skin as my hand stroked up and down her spine. I wanted to stay like this with her. To wake up with her face close to mine so I could see the sun reflected within her eyes. I wanted to roll her over in the morning and slide my cock into her and wake her up with the pleasure she deserved.

  The pleasure she had earned for being the incredible woman she was.

  I stroked my thumb over her cheek as I placed a kiss to her forehead. As much as I wanted to stay, I couldn’t. The two of us would wake up aching on this couch and something told me Natasha didn’t want me going into her room. I slid from her grasp, watching her arms flop to the cushions before I started searching for a blanket.

  I grabbed one from her opened box on the floor and fluttered it around her body.

  I went over to her kitchen sink and cleaned myself up a bit. I tried my best to be as quiet as I could so I wouldn’t wake her up. I washed my face with the dish soap she had sitting there. I stuck my head under the facet and took a few gulps to try and replenish what I had sweated out as I enjoyed her body. I grabbed a dry towel from a stack on the counter and dried myself off, watching and listening as Natasha’s soft snores filled her corner of the apartment.

  I wanted to wake her up and take her home with me. But I knew she needed her sleep.

  I picked my clothes off the floor and dressed myself in the reflection of the window. I smoothed my hands over my clothes and stole one last look at the woman I had come to care for. She was curled up on the couch with the blanket bunched up at her chin. Resting peacefully with a little smile on her lips.

  I had a feeling I would be falling asleep with a similar expression.

  I stole one last kiss on her forehead before I crept out her door. I locked the doorknob to try and give myself some sort of relief. I didn’t like the fact that I couldn’t lock her in. That I couldn’t flip her deadbolt to give her the ultimate safety device, especially since she was sleeping on the couch.

  But a locked doorknob would have to do because I didn't have a key to her place.

  I walked down to my car and slowly pulled away from her apartment. I thought about turning back. I thought about trying to pick her lock or knock on her door until she woke back up. I should’ve at least moved her to her bed so she could sleep more comfortably, but it was too late now. I was cruising down the road back home.

  Back to an empty house devoid of anything other than the whimsical thoughts of a lonely man.

  Fuck. I really should’ve woken her up.

  Eleven

  Natasha

  Though it had been five weeks since our last encounter together, I couldn’t stop thinking about that night. I had woken up on the couch alone in my apartment with the smell of Carter still wafting around me. I opened my eyes and expected to see him there. Smiling at me with his naked body pressed against me. Comforting me before I rolled him over and took him how I wanted to again.

  But he wasn’t there.

  It was only me surrounded by my unpacked boxes.

  I wasn’t sure what I thought was going to happen. After all, he did agree to keep things platonic after that one night. And he had kept his word. Our wine nights never devolved into sex and I never spent another night wrapped up in his arms. Neither of us succumbed to the other and I never felt his lips against my skin again.

  Not after that second night of passion we shared.

  Things were going really well with the kids, but a part of me felt as if something was missing. My nightmares returned, and I woke up several times some nights with gunfire ringing out in my ears. I could hear myself screaming for my children. Holding my arms out for them to run to me so I could get them to the bus. I would wake up with tears in my eyes as I chanted their names. Sometimes I would wake up shaking and crying.

  Sometimes I would even wake up yelling.

  I could tell Carter worried about me sometimes. I wasn’t much of a makeup person, so whenever I had a rough night it was usually written in the bags underneath my eyes. I tried to drink coffee in an attempt to wake myself up in the mornings before going to his house, but sometimes it was a fruitless endeavor.

  More often than not I was taking naps alongside Clara in the afternoons.

  I had grown closer to their family. The boys wanted me to come to their sporting games I had enrolled them into and Clara wanted me to come play on the weekends. I spent as much time as I could with them in an attempt to drown out the nagging sensation at the back of my mind.

  I wanted to know how my kids were doing.

  My kids all the way in Bria.

  Were they keeping up with their programs? Were their mothers helping them with their words and sign language? How were their developments going? Had there been any fighting recently? Were they all safe?

  Were they all still alive?

  “Natasha?”

  “Hmm?” I asked.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Sorry, Carter. What were you saying?” I asked.

  “Nathaniel wants to know if you’re coming to his soccer game Saturday evening.”

  “Oh, of course I am,” I said with a smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Yay! Thank you so much, Miss Nattie. You’re awesome!” Nathaniel said.

  He ran at me and flung himself into my arms and I barely had the strength to catch him.

  “I can’t wait to see you play,” I said breathlessly.

  “Let’s give Miss Natasha some breathing room,” Carter said.

  “Oh no. He’s fine. I promise,” I said.

  But I could tell by the look on Carter’s face that he wasn’t convinced.

  I went home after dinner, turning down Carter’s usual offer for wine. I couldn’t keep my eyes open another second. My body was shaking with exhaustion as I tumbled into my bed, falling face first into my pillow. I couldn’t remember if I had locked my front door and I didn’t care. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and sleep.

  Once I closed my eyes, however, I saw them.

  My kids back in Africa with fear in their eyes.

  I could hear the gunfire off in the distance as I rolled them out of their beds. I could feel them in my arms as I carried them to the bus. I saw my thumb trying to catch all of their tears as Nwabudike drove the bus, trying to get us away from all the fighting.

  I could hear explosions going off at the orphanage as wood splintered behind us.

  I tossed and I turned. Tears soaked my pillow as I pulled the comforter tighter around my body. I woke up the next morn
ing with an ache that had settled in my bones. My shoulders her and my hips hurt. My jaw hurt and my teeth hurt. I couldn’t chew anything and my hands were weak and my head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

  Was there any way to figure out how they were all doing?

  I sent an email out to the team leader from my group in Doctors Without Borders. Maybe he would know how those kids were doing. Our program only ran a year because the funding ran out and the area became too dangerous for us to settle in. We petitioned to try and stay longer, but were yanked from the area before anyone could see our proposal.

  But maybe Clark had made it back.

  Maybe our team leader was able to get back into the area with a team better equipped to handle that kind of terrain.

  I looked over at the clock and sighed. I had been sitting at my dinky kitchen table for over two hours staring at a damn wall. I checked my email and didn’t have a response from Clark, so I pulled myself up from the chair. I needed to start getting ready for Nathaniel’s soccer game.

  I was meeting them at the house in less than two hours.

  I took a cold shower, trying to wake myself up. I washed my hair and cleaned my body, then picked out an outfit that would be suitable for the ball field. I grabbed a coat in case I needed it and swung through my favorite coffee joint. I got a large cup of coffee with a shot of espresso and tons of sweat cream dumped into the mixture.

  If this didn’t wake me up, then I didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of recuperating.

  I arrived with enough time to hop into Carter’s SUV. The kids kept throwing questions at me and I answered them the best I could. Nathaniel was nervous about his first game so I tried to calm his nerves. A story came to mind that I thought would help, and it fell from my lips before I could catch myself.

  “You know, the first time I showed up in Africa, I was very nervous,” I said.

  “You went to Africa? Cool!” Nathaniel said.

  “Why were you in Africa?” Joshua asked.

  “Did you see lions?” Clara asked.

  “I did see lions,” I said with a grin. “And I was in Africa helping children who needed me. But my first day I was a nervous wreck.”

  “Why?” Nathaniel asked.

  “The part of Africa I was going to wasn’t the nicest part. There are lots of people there who need help, but there are lots of people there who want to hurt other people, too.”

  “Why do they want to hurt people?” Joshua asked.

  “So they don’t get hurt,” I said. “My first day, there was this little boy. About your age, Joshua. And he couldn’t talk.”

  “At all?” Joshua asked.

  “At all. It was my job to evaluate him and spend time with him to figure out why he couldn't talk,” I said. “And I was so nervous. I didn’t want to be wrong and I wanted to help him. My goal was to have him speaking in small sentences by the end of the year.”

  “Did he ever talk?” Nathaniel asked.

  “He said ‘Goodbye, Natasha’ just before me and my team left for the airport after a year of being there,” I said.

  “Does he still talk?” Joshua asked.

  I sighed as I reached out and cupped the little boy’s cheek.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I hope he is. But I don’t know.”

  “Can you tell us another story about Africa?” Nathaniel asked.

  “How about this? If you play your hardest and have the best time at your game, then I’ll tell you lots more stories,” I said.

  “It’s a deal!” Nathaniel said.

  I could feel Carter’s eyes on me, but I avoided his gaze. I stared out the window, watching as the world passed by. The city gave way to a park, and the park gave way to trees, and as we drove up into the parking lot there was a big soccer field staring us in the face.

  “We’re here!” Nathaniel said.

  “Time to get the brood out,” I said with a grin.

  Carter’s eyes met mine and I couldn’t look away. There was a mixture of curiosity and sadness in his eyes. Was something wrong? Did I say something he didn’t like to the kids? I didn't have time to unpack it, though. Nathaniel’s game started in fifteen minutes and he was already running for his coach.

  “Nathaniel! Hold on!” I said.

  Then like lightning, Clara and Joshua took off as well.

  “So much for trying to catch them,” Carter said.

  “They’re excited. I guess as long as I can see them, they’ll be okay,” I said.

  We walked over to the soccer field and took our places on the metal benches. Joshua and Clara were running around, tossing a ball Joshua had brought with him. I kept them wrangled to the benches as the sun began to set, and every time Nathaniel had the ball I was up on my feet.

  “Come on, Nathaniel! You can do it!”

  “Kick it! In the goal!”

  “Run! Run! Run! You’re doing so good!”

  We clapped and cheered and whooped and hollered. I stomped on the bench and got all the other parents cheering both of the teams. We were on the side of the kids. It wasn’t red versus blue or west side versus east side. We were all there to watch how our kids had grown and laugh as they worked up a sweat and got dirty.

  We cheered for every goal, and I was leading the pack with the bleacher stomping.

  After the game was done all the boys shook hands. I gathered Clara in my arms and Carter wrangled Joshua, and we all rushed over to hug Nathaniel. He was sweaty and covered in grass, but he had the biggest smile on his face.

  “Does this mean I get another story!?”

  “Yes, it does,” I said with a grin.

  “Let me tell you something,” a man said. “If every family was as inclusive as you guys are with your children, these sporting events would be a lot more fun for everyone.”

  “Oh, I’m not their-”

  “We believe everyone should be cheered at this age,” Carter said. “Carter Marshall. I’m Nathaniel’s father.”

  “Craig Lancaster. This is my wife, Betty, and our son is the one that took off with your boy just now.”

  I looked over and saw Nathaniel kicking a soccer ball with a blonde-headed boy in a blue outfit. They were running around with a bunch of other kids, laughing and having the time of their lives. It brought tears to my eyes to see them so happy. To see them looking beyond the different-colored jerseys and bonding over something they took joy in.

  “I’m Natasha,” I said as I held out my hand. “I’m-”

  “The saving grace of this family,” Carter said with a smile.

  I shook hands with the Lancasters as Carter’s hand rubbed my back. I couldn’t be sure as to why he didn’t want me admitting the fact that I was only the nanny, but I thought I knew why. I still cared about him deeply, and I knew his eyes would linger on me from time to time. There were nights where his hand would creep a little too close to my knee and nights where I had one too many glasses of wine and got a bit too close to his lap.

  Our feelings were still there for one another.

  Even though we weren’t sleeping together any longer.

  “We should trade numbers,” Betty said. “If the boys get along like this, we could do playdates.”

  “My wife needs a wine buddy,” Craig said.

  “There’s nothing wrong with having one of those,” I said with a smile.

  “You drink scotch?” Carter asked.

  “No man worth his salt doesn’t,” Craig said.

  “Then it’s settled. Maybe one Saturday you guys could come over and we’ll share a drink while the boys play out back,” Carter said.

  “That sounds wonderful. Doesn’t it, Craig?” Betty asked.

  I looked up and smiled at Carter and found his eyes twinkling with happiness. Was this what he wanted? A domesticated life? Scotch and wine dates with other couples while the kids ran amok in his massive backyard? Somehow, that life seemed to suit the busy billionaire. He had traded his tailored suit for a pair of slim-fit jeans and a t-s
hirt, and somehow he still felt real.

  Genuine.

  Like home.

  We all traded numbers, though I was hesitant to take Betty’s information. This wasn’t the role I served in their family, but it did feel nice to be treated that way. I went to gather up the kids as Carter and Craig continued to talk, loading them into the SUV and buckling them in.

  “When can I have another story?” Nathaniel asked.

  “After we get you cleaned up from your game,” Carter said.

  “I had so much fun, Dad!”

  “I know you did, buddy. You did great out there,” Carter said.

  “Did you see the goal I made, Miss Nattie?” he asked.

  “I did. I was cheering as hard as I could for you,” I said.

  “I could hear you. It made me smile. Will you come to my game next weekend?” he asked.

  I looked over at Carter and he nodded his head.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I said with a smile.

  Twelve

  Natasha

  “Can you tell me the story now?” Nathaniel asked.

  He was settling into bed as Joshua and Clara were perched on top of the covers.

  “If I tell you guys another story, you have to go to bed. Okay?” I asked.

  “We promise,” they all said.

  “Okay. So, this was about five months into my stay in Africa. There was a little girl, maybe no older than Clara, and she was behind in some things.”

  “Like what?” Joshua asked.

  “She wasn’t walking very well. She had some lisps.”

  “What’s a lisp?” Nathaniel asked.

  “You know how some kids don’t say ‘ar’, but ‘uh’?” I asked.

  “And ‘wuh’ instead of ‘luh’?” Joshua asked.

  “Exactly. Those are lisps. They’re called ‘developmental delays’. And she had a few of them. My job was to get together with her mother and teach her some things she could do to help the girl’s speech and balance,” I said.

  “What did you do?” Joshua asked.