by Paige North
Women watch us. Some lift their hands halfway in tentative greeting then think twice about hugging or double-kissing on the cheek when they see that he’s with someone. Not just someone—me. I’m not going to lie, I feel out of place. This fancy place and these fancy people—it’s not me, but I’m excited that he asked me out.
Doesn’t this change our employer/employee arrangement, though?
Didn’t that change the moment he came into my room at night checking for locked doors?
I’m not going to analyze the implications of this date. I’m nervous enough as it is. I’m just going to enjoy my time with him despite my growing worries.
Our table is near the back in a cozy corner near a fireplace. When he orders wine for us and raises his glass for a toast “to autumn in New York,” I clink glasses and try to remember to breathe deeply. Okay, he doesn’t just look snazzy and rich, he looks hot. I’m just going to say it—sexy as fuck. And he’s mine.
I let that sink in—I have the attention of the hottest billionaire in the city.
Ho.
Lee.
Crap.
And it all feels incredible. Being out. Talking like an adult, dressed like an adult, having adult conversations. Though I worry about Lilly at home, like did she go to sleep okay and is she giving Wilson a hard time? I ground myself on Ethan’s shimmery blue eyes. “Everything okay for you?” he asks.
“Are you kidding?” My eyes widen. “This is fantastic. Totally amazing. I love the décor. It’s so…”
“New York.”
“Exactly.” With the tall ceilings and people still dressed the way they went to work, dark corners, and mini magical bulbs everywhere.
“Well, you look beautiful. Not that you don’t always, but tonight, you’re glowing. And that dress…hmmm…” He tilts his head to check out my ass, which sends sparks of electricity shooting through my body. My mind starts thinking about what could happen later when we get home.
To his place, I should say.
The Townsend Mansion isn’t my home, though I sometimes forget that. It’s going to be hard going back to my own little place one day after experiencing what could be…I guess I’ve gotten pretty spoiled. “Hmm, you don’t look so bad yourself, Mr. Townsend.”
“So, we’ve known each other for almost a month now,” he says after we order several plates of different foods to try. “Tell me what your goals are. I know you’re working on your PR business, but what else?”
“Well…” I begin to tell him about building my career first then finding the right guy, settling down, and buying a house somewhere upstate to start a family. I get quiet then, because as much as we have felt like a family on a few occasions, Lilly Belle is not my daughter, and there’s a good chance I’ll never see her again after this gig is over with.
The thought dampens my mood for a moment but I force a smile and ask, “What about you?”
I don’t know why he looks surprised that I’m asking him this. I mean, I was bound to reciprocate the question. Yet, a dark look eclipses his face, as he presses his lips together and shakes his head softly. “I don’t think about the things I want. I just focus on the present mostly.”
“Why?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I just don’t pine over what I don’t have. I don’t mind that others dream, but it’s not me.”
“So you don’t have goals?”
“Of course I do—business goals, but my personal life is my business life. They’re one and the same.”
I’m not even sure I understand what he means, but I stay quiet, because I can see that he’s reanalyzing what he said.
Finally, he shrugs. “I used to yearn, a long time ago, but that’s not me anymore.”
Cryptic. Heartbreaking. A man with no dreams for his life. How quickly our date has turned somber, but I think it’s good that we’re at least talking about it. I don’t push for answers. Whatever is plaguing him, I know it’s a byproduct of his former life. There’s deep pain there, and the caretaking, maternal side of me wants to make it go away. But I wonder…could Ethan ever truly be happy? He’s a deeply wounded man.
Is it possible for one person to absorb grief away from another?
Covering his hand with mine, I say, “If I could take away your pain, whatever it is, I would in a heartbeat.”
Lips press into a sad, regretful smile. “You already have.”
I have? I’m delighted to hear that. It makes me feel sturdier on such shaky ground.
After that, we talk about more light-hearted subjects such as where we went to school and the rather insignificant boyfriends and girlfriends we’ve each had. That’s one thing we have in common—neither of us has ever been in love before. Me, because I just haven’t had time, being the oldest and helping my mom take care of the family, but Ethan, because he hasn’t let anyone into his life. Instead of relationships, he’s had a string of quick conquests, a fact I’m trying hard not to think about right now.
My phone rings during dinner. It’s my mom, but I decline the call.
“Is that important? Answer it,” he says.
“It’s just my mom.”
“I don’t mind. Your mom is important to you.” To you. Aren’t moms important to most people?
My mother calls again, which is weird and insistent, so I pick up. “Mom? Can I call you back. I’m in the middle of dinner.” She sounds frantic and stuffy-nosed, as though she’s been crying, and something about her tone makes me still and listen. “I mean, I’m sorry. Tell me what’s up.”
She’s in danger of losing the house. She doesn’t know what to do. My dad’s been out for weeks looking for a job. I had no idea he had lost his previous one at the auto repair. Suddenly, the warm tones and New York City ambience around me feel out of place. I’m not this high-profile socialite. I’m a simple girl from the suburbs, and my parents are going through a hard time while I pretend to be the girlfriend of a rich man.
“Okay, Mom, just stay calm, alright? I’ll wire you money tonight,” I promise her. “I’ll call you when I get back to the house.”
After the call, Ethan looks up. “Everything alright?”
“She’s behind three months on her mortgage payment,” I explain.
“How much is it?” he asks.
No. I know where he’s going with this, and it’s not going to happen. “I don’t know,” I lie. “But my whole next paycheck will go to her, or my siblings won’t even have any food or clothes. God, this sucks. Be glad you have no idea what this feels like.”
“Let me help, Penelope.”
“No. No way. This is not your problem, and I was already going to help her out. It’s why I took this job.” I feel strange telling him that, because nannies are supposed to look so cheerful and happy to be living in your home, taking care of children who aren’t ours, but yes, the truth is—we’re usually in need of money.
“Can I at least give you an advance on your paycheck? It’s Tuesday. You don’t get paid until Friday. That way, she’ll have the money by tomorrow?” he says.
I appreciate that he’s trying to help, so I nod. “That’s fine. Thanks, Ethan.”
But now our dinner has been dampened twice. And now, the question I’ve been pushing away every day begins to creep into my thoughts. The whole way back, in our car ride, he holds my hand, but I’m dying to know—is he giving Lilly Belle up for adoption? I’m dying to know. Dying for him to finally divulge.
Why should it matter?
She’s not my child. I’m not her mother. Am I just stressed because my mother called me freaking out, or because Ethan had the chance to tell me about the adoption during dinner but he didn’t? Is it because I’m falling for a man who’s emotionally unavailable? The exact crux of my stress tonight is undefined, and maybe it’s just my current mood, but suddenly, I need to know the answer.
I’m tired of waiting.
When we get back to his house, I pause at the stairs while he hangs our coats and says goodnight to Wilson. I enjoy t
he air of silence and tranquility before it all changes. His answer will determine so much. I need to know if I’m to move on in my life. The fact is, I’ve grown attached to him and to Lilly Belle.
There—truth.
It shouldn’t have happened but it did. “Ethan, I need to ask you something.”
“Can it wait ‘til I’m upstairs and changed?”
“Not really. It’s been bothering me for a while. I wasn’t supposed to know, but I overheard your mom. I’ve acted like I don’t know. Maybe it’s not even my business, but…are you giving up Lilly Belle for adoption?”
Ethan slows down, stops, and stares at me. “Where did you hear that?”
“Right here, the night your mom came to the door. There was reference to finding her a good home.”
I can almost hear him swallow in the dark and quiet foyer. “You’re right, it’s not your business, but if you must know—I haven’t decided yet.”
Relief washes over me, followed by more anxiety. It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either. “Why haven’t you decided?” And why hasn’t he told me himself?
“I can’t answer that, Penelope. It’s not an easy decision. I just know that I wasn’t expecting her, and I have a life to live.”
“Lots of great things in life are unexpected, Ethan.” Us, for example.
“I’m not meant for parenting.”
“That’s not true. I’ve seen you with the baby. You’re great. Nobody knows how to be a parent automatically. It takes practice.”
“You do. It comes naturally to you.”
“Like I said—practice. I’ve had plenty. You can have plenty, too.” My voice is strained. I don’t want to come across as begging or pleading, but this matters to me and I can’t just pretend that I don’t care. “I know I’m just the nanny here, but I think you’re meant for it more than you think. The universe doesn’t give us anything we can’t handle.”
“Where’d you hear that, a fortune cookie?” He scoffs and brushes past me up the stairs.
I’m too baffled to be hurt by his curt reply. I follow him upstairs. “It’s true. We’re greater than we think we are. We’re capable of handling so much in this life.”
He whirls around. “Some of us have already handled enough for one lifetime.”
But this is a baby, I want to tell him. Not pain, not family discord, not whatever trauma plagued him early on in life. This is a joyous thing. But I say nothing. Clearly, it’s not my place. Maybe he’s right. Maybe Lilly Belle would be better off with a warm family ready to love her. Who am I to have an opinion?
“Just…let me think about things. Don’t push me.” Ethan’s eyes reflect confusion, pain.
“Of course. I was just asking.”
He heads to his bedroom. I don’t know if he’ll come to my room tonight or if this date is over now that the spell has been broken. Too many of life’s worries took control, but I had to know. If Lilly Belle is leaving, I don’t think I could ever fully fall for Ethan. I wouldn’t let myself. I would miss her too much. If she stays, however, then I know I could.
I’ve already committed the cardinal nanny sin of caring too much about my charges.
And Ethan is still so hot and cold, I’m not sure what to expect from him. He could decide this is over between us at any moment. Am I in over my head? Sure feels like it. But because I don’t have a crystal ball, and I can’t see into the future, I’ll just do this—love like it’s my last day. Smile like it’s my last chance. And kiss a sleeping angel when you see one.
Slipping into Lilly Belle’s room, I pause at her crib to behold her perfect image. I imagine her sleeping under twinkling stars and a shimmering magical forest. If I could decorate her room, it’d be Neverland.
The tears come quietly, slipping down my cheeks. If Ethan is capable of giving away the flesh and blood who needs him, then what would he do to my love if I were to give it? I have no answers. I can only cross that bridge when I get there. For now, I push down the crib siding, lean close to the little one, and whisper. “I love you, Silly Lilly Belle.”
Ethan
I don’t fall in love. I don’t let women into my life past the guard gate. The biggest reason is because love doesn’t last, so why invest into it? It’s a honeymoon phase, it’s la-la land. Sure, it’s awesome how she and I have been spending time together around the house, going for walks in the park, going on dates in the evening once the baby is put in bed, and all that. I love taking her into stores and letting her choose things. She never lets me pay, but I always insist and sometimes get the clerk to ring it up on my card.
She’s stubborn as fuck, but she’s real. Down to earth. A real woman with real good values. Her mama raised her right. I have to remember to thank her if I ever see her. The whole thing is a fucking fantasy come true. But fantasies don’t last. They don’t follow through. They always fall apart—everybody knows that.
Half my brain tells me “so what?” Enjoy what you have while you have it, Ethan. So what if it’s an illusion? So what if this woman’s head in your lap while you watch Baby Einstein is a mirage that will disappear as soon as you can’t handle the real pressures of a love relationship anymore? And that baby over there, crawling toward the TV cabinet, trying to figure out how to pull herself up so she can reach those shiny toys on the big screen? Another mirage who’ll one day fade away when she grows up and leaves you in the dust.
It’s better you end this soon. You’re getting in way too deep.
It’s the best choice for everything. Yes, there will be a period of temporary pain for everybody, but then soon, life will resume in a much better way for both of them than I could’ve ever provided. I don’t deserve them.
I am damaged goods to the nth degree.
But because of Penelope, I’m trying to stay positive. She has a way of seeing things that instills hope in me, and I’m trying to adopt that same mentality. I’ve gone all in these next two weeks. We make love more and more like we did on the balcony. We make dinners together, and we talk about her startup business. She’s even let me step in a bit to help, between her website and sending her a couple of my client’s clients. It’s small and humble, but it keeps her busy and happy, and there’s nothing I love more than seeing her happy.
She deserves it.
She deserves so much more than I can give her.
One day, while Penelope is sleeping, Lilly Belle is fussy as all get out, so I take her out for a walk—just her and me. It’s the first time I go anywhere with her alone. A month ago, I never would’ve seen myself doing it, but here I am. In the stroller, she’s bouncy about the endless possibilities. Maybe that’s why she was fussing—she wanted us to take her for a stroll. I think I’m learning baby talk.
Right away, I feel the pressure to make her happy. Amazing how women can do that.
“Alright, Silly Belle,” I say, turning right and going down Fifth Ave. “Where to? Uncle Ethan at your service.” I inhale the city’s deepening aura. There’s Halloween decorations in windows, the park is a blanket of gold, and there’s a bite of deep fall in the air.
She slaps the stroller tray happily, sitting up all the way. This kid has grown so much in the two months she’s been with me. I was scared of how fragile she was when I first saw her, but now that she’s older, I can almost see her as a toddler running around the playground. I think that’s when dads do their best, when they can chase the kids and toss them into a pile of leaves.
If you let her stay, you can do that next year at this time.
Pushing the thought away, I take her up Fifth Ave, cut into the park, and take her all the way to the Discovery Center. There by the lake, I take her out of the stroller and plop her into the grass. She gives me the most thankful look ever, like Penelope never takes her out of the stroller. Then she stares at the green stuff around her, wondering what it is.
“It’s grass, Silly Belle,” I laugh, ripping some up and handing it to her.
She examines it carefully then takes it straight to
her mouth, of course.
“No, not to eat. To play with. See?” I pull it off her lips and rip up more grass, throwing it in the air and making a big show about it falling on my head.
Lilly Belle laughs her ass off, which in turn makes me laugh my ass off. She pulls at the grass and throws it in the air, except her fists are empty, ‘cause she wasn’t strong enough to actually rip out any. Doesn’t matter. She keeps laughing. An older woman sitting in yoga position nearby laughs, too. This baby is so cute and crazy, I get a real unexpected pang of sadness in my heart just then. My sister’s not here to see this. Just nine months ago, they brought this little garden gnome into the world with the biggest, happiest expectations, and they then fucking perished, because some DUI asshole decided his drunk driving was more important than anyone else’s life.
It’s fucking cruel. A cruel joke.
A duck heads our way under the false impression that we’ve got some breadcrumbs for her. “Sorry, girlfriend. Just grass. Shoo,” I tell it. Then I see Lilly Belle’s eyes widen in horror at the massive feathered beast headed her way. She whines and turns toward me to please pick her up, and I do, and she clings to my chest. Who knew that babies could be scared of birds?
I hold her against me, feeling her tiny heart pounding against mine.
I can’t explain what goes through me just then. She turned to me when she got scared. She clung to my chest. She needed me to protect her.
“I got you, Silly Belle. It’s just a mean, ol’ duck.” I shoo the evil beast away one more time until it finally gets the point. Silly Lilly Belle clings to me until she’s sure the imminent danger has passed. Then, she gets up and looks in my eyes, babbles something then pats my face, tiny finger-spread hand just “whack” on my face.
“Ah, the thanks I get,” I tell her, pulling her hand off. “No hit.”
She points at the duck. Her eyes are deep blue with sparkles reflecting off the water’s surface.
