Married to the Manny

by Daisy May

  “Oh.” She flopped down on her back, pouting. “I think it would be a good idea.”

  “And why is that?” I got ready to smile at her answer. Kids always had such strange ideas about the world.

  But Kerry’s answer froze my lips before they could turn up. “Because you need a husband,” she said. “You’ve been all alone since you and Mommy got divorced. She has one, and she’s happier since she got him. You like Gordon, and he likes you, so why not?”

  My lips trembled, and I pulled back so she wouldn’t see the way her words had affected me. “Don’t get your hopes up,” I told her.

  “Promise you’ll think about it?”

  That one got a laugh out of me. She was parroting back the same thing I always said to her when I wanted her to try something new.

  “I promise I’ll think about it,” I said, and gently closed the door behind me.

  Three—Gordon

  Things had been a little strange ever since Cole’s marriage proposal. Fuck, even saying that in my head felt strange. What had he been thinking when he asked me that? Did he really see me as that great of a nanny?

  I liked to think so, and in fact, it was less delusional than the other explanation I’d considered. Cole had been a little tipsy and wanted to help out his favorite employee. He wanted to keep me around because Kerry liked me. He didn’t secretly have the hots for me.

  I had to keep telling myself that, or I’d get my hopes up way too high for something that was never going to happen.

  About a week after I received the letter, he got home from work late and immediately put Kerry to bed. “She’s fast asleep,” he said when he came downstairs and into the kitchen.

  He was still in his suit, his eyes all sleepy… and heaven help me, he looked even sexier than ever. I loved how getting his daughter to bed on time was his first priority, even more important than having dinner or changing his clothes.

  “Good day at work?” I asked.

  “It was long.” He let a yawn out. “And your day?”

  “Can’t complain, except, you know… possibly not being able to stay in the country.” I toyed with the edge of my placemat. “Uh… maybe we should talk about what you asked me.”

  “I told you to forget about that,” he said, instantly tensing up. “I was just… well… never mind.”

  It was late, but I scooped some ice cream into a bowl anyway. Pointing my spoon at the carton, I raised an eyebrow at him. He shook his head no, and I licked the spoon clean before speaking again. “I only want to know what you were getting at.”

  I didn’t tell him I’d been meditating on the conversation every day since it’d happened. Not even to reach a higher understanding. More because even when my mind was supposed to be blank, I couldn’t get him out of my head. I thought about him more than I thought about my actual deportation.

  I’d imagined a thousand different scenarios where I’d instantly said yes to his question, or just asked him for further details. What killed me was that I couldn’t come up with a good reason that he would’ve said it at all. I had to at least try to figure it out.

  “It was nothing,” he said. “I’d had a few drinks, and they went to my head.”

  Just what I’d told myself. Except… “I’ve had a drink or two in my life, and it doesn’t put ideas in your head out of nowhere. There had to be some logic behind what you said.”

  “I figured it’d be better for Kerry,” he mumbled.

  As I suspected. Nothing more, nothing less.

  It wasn’t that I was bad-looking or anything like that. I went to yoga class three times a week—not that I was great at it or anything, but it kept me in a reasonable state of fitness. I took care of my hair and skin, not obsessively, but more than the average guy. I knew my appearance didn’t generally disturb people.

  I was fairly sure I was decent company, too. My amazing moms had taught me to get along with anybody. I’d always had plenty of friends at school, avoiding the drama that might’ve come if I was one of the truly popular kids. These days, I was comfortable conversing with anyone of any age.

  Cole, though… Cole was in another league. That jawline alone was halfway to the next league. Then there was his amazing personality, and his fancy well-paying job, and his three-bedroom house with a pool in Sweetwater, and …

  “It wasn’t about money?” I asked.

  His eyes met mine, and he frowned. “What, you mean I’d marry you to get out of paying someone else more than you? I think your wages are competitive. I know I’d have to pay a little more if we weren’t doing this under the table, but it just seemed easier at the time. It wasn’t a cost-cutting measure or anything.”

  “No, no,” I said, already conscious that my initial idea was wrong. “I mean, I’m sure this wasn’t what you were thinking about, but usually people pay for things like this.”

  “They do?” He looked intrigued. “How much does a service like that go for?”

  “About twenty thousand,” I told him with a self-conscious shrug. “Way out of my price range, in case you were wondering.”

  “Oh God, no,” he said quickly. “I would never have thought along those lines. I was only curious. I don’t need your money.”

  My cheeks went hot, and I was embarrassed for even bringing it up. Of course twenty grand would be a drop in the bucket for him. “Yeah, I figured.”

  “I mean…” He gave me an awkward smile. “Even if I was going to charge you, I’d give you some kind of discount.”

  I laughed at his attempt to mollify me. “What, twenty percent off for being your daughter’s nanny?”

  “More like fifty,” he said, raising his glass of water to clink against my bowl of ice cream.

  “You mean I could be your husband for the low, low price of ten thousand dollars?”

  “Act now before the deal expires.”

  We smiled at each other for a second. “That whole idea is ridiculous,” I said. “It’d be your own money going back to you, anyway.”

  “Still legal tender, and USD.” He laughed. “Not that there’s anything wrong with your country’s attempt at currency.”

  “Hey, I’m trying not to go back to Canada. You can insult it all you want. Just don’t say anything about the Leafs. That’d be going too far.”

  For a second time, he smiled at me. He leaned closer, setting his glass of water on the table between us. “So you are trying to get out of going home.”

  “Pretty much,” I said. “I like it here a lot… but I don’t know what kind of lengths I’m willing to go to.”

  Marrying him might be a step too far. I wasn’t planning on marrying anyone anytime soon. I was too young—even if I was twenty-seven and a few of my old high school friends were posting wedding pictures on Facebook. And granted, if I was looking, he’d be my first choice.

  “I’d rather be here in Miami than in Canada,” I went on. “I definitely wouldn’t want to leave you and Kerry.”

  Cole gazed at me, and I would have sworn I saw something more than friendliness in his eyes. But I had to be dreaming it.

  I scooped the last bit of ice cream out of the bowl. “So I should forget that offer?” I asked, keeping my voice even so as to not betray my anxiety.

  He nodded… but it was a little too quick. “Yes, forget I ever said anything.”

  I don’t know what possessed me to push even further. Now that he’d dangled the option in front of me, it was all I could think about, no matter how many times he’d taken it back. “I should assume the offer’s no longer open,” I said softly.

  For a long moment, he was silent. I looked up to meet his eyes, still licking the last bit of ice cream off my lips. He gazed at me, and his eyes spoke volumes. I was ready for him to say no. I was bracing myself for the answer. I knew there was no chance in hell that he would make the same crazy proposal he’d made once before. Not a second time. Not when he was sober.

  But when that long moment passed, his lips parted… and the word that came out of
his mouth was, “Yes.”

  I blinked a few times, trying to rationalize what he’d just said with what I’d been waiting for him to say. “Yes, the offer’s closed?”

  “No, not at all,” he hurried to say. “I mean, if you don’t want to, I’m not about to force you into it. It’s definitely a bad idea. My lawyer already told me so.”

  At that, I dropped my spoon with a clatter. I seemed to drop a lot of stuff around Cole these days. “You already talked to your lawyer about this?”

  Cole blushed, actually blushed. “He’s more of a friend, it wasn’t in any professional capacity. The important thing is that he advised against it, but… I don’t know, I liked the idea.”

  I moved my chair an inch closer to him. At this distance, I could inhale his cologne. This was a terrible idea… yet I needed to know more about it. “How would it work?”

  “However you want,” Cole said. “No money exchanged, of course. This would be for Kerry’s sake.”

  “Ah, so she won’t have to adjust to a new nanny.”

  Cole looked at me with approval. “See, that’s why you’re so important in her life—because you put her first. That’s rare to find in a nanny.”

  I nodded eagerly. “I try.”

  “You realize this plan’s illegal, right?” Cole asked.

  Again I nodded. It was only a small crime, I figured. And truth be told, I would’ve chopped off my left nut for the chance to press my lips against Cole’s at a marriage ceremony.

  “That’s okay with me,” I said. “I’m the one who’d be benefiting.”

  Cole shook his head. “Kerry and I would get as much out of this as you would.”

  I liked to think he was right, but my reasoning was entirely selfish. “So if we were to get married, when would we do it?” I asked. “I only have ninety days to get out of the country.”

  “Theoretically, we could do it in a month,” Cole said. “That’d give us time to ready. We could fake date and let other people know about our fake relationship. If we tell them we were already dating in secret for a while, it’ll hardly even seem strange.”

  That sounded kind of okay. Having a month would give both of us time to back out if we wanted to. Although… not that I was in love with him, but the idea of being his husband was growing on me.

  “We could start fake dating,” I said, excitement swelling my heart. “I wonder if my family would even come down for the wedding.”

  “I’d love to meet your moms, and I’m sure Kerry would too.”

  I smiled, flattered that he remembered that detail. “They’d love to meet you too. They’ve heard a lot about you.” I coughed. “I mean, about Kerry.”

  Ignoring my gaffe, Cole simply frowned. “I wonder if this will be too much upheaval for her. She’s already been through one divorce. And if we want this to work, she’ll have to believe everything is for real.”

  He was right. If this was supposed to be for her best interest, how was she going to feel if she realized we were both lying to her? “It might be a lot of upheaval,” I said softly. “But do you think it’d be worth it?”

  “We can try to minimize the effects on her,” he said. “Keep things as consistent as possible. What’s our exit strategy?”

  “Our what?”

  “Our plan for after you get your green card. You’ll stay here as Kerry’s nanny after we get divorced, right?”

  My heart caught in my throat, and I looked down. I kind of hated the idea of this marriage ending… but I also knew it couldn’t last.

  “Right,” I said softly. “We’ll get divorced at the first possible opportunity, and then I’ll just be her nanny.”

  I had to be seeing things, because when I looked at Cole again, I could’ve sworn he seemed sad too.

  Four—Cole

  Since we were supposed to be a couple now, Gordon and I decided to test out the waters with a date night.

  We already knew each other, of course, but going out to a nice restaurant would be a good way to figure out if this could actually work. After all, if he chewed with his mouth open, maybe I wouldn’t even want to get married for the length of the naturalization process.

  More likely, I’d end up falling for Gordon even more than I already had. And as we sat down and the waiter spread cloth napkins over our laps, I wondered what exactly I’d gotten myself into.

  “Feels weird to be out without Kerry,” Gordon commented as he fiddled with his silverware. “You’re sure she’s okay?”

  I chuckled. “She’s having a play date with the most popular girl in her class. I’m sure she’s on top of the world right now.”

  “And she’ll tell us every word Francesca said when she gets home,” he added.

  The waiter took our orders, and then Gordon and I were on our own. God, this felt weird. We already knew each other, but it was a first date—except not really, because it wasn’t real. Then again, if he hated me outside the employer-employee context, he might decide not to go through with this, so…

  I fidgeted, trying not to stare at him. It was hard when all I wanted to do was drink in the sight of his lovely face. His eyes were soft, his cheeks just round enough. Kindness shone off him like a halo.

  “How was your day?” he asked.

  “It was good.” Forced to meet his eyes, I half-shivered as they pierced through me. “Just work, work, work.”

  “What’s a hedge fund analyst do, anyway? I never quite understood that.”

  “Oh, you don’t want to hear about it.”

  Gordon’s lips twitched, and he shrugged. “Maybe I don’t, but I really should have an idea. Besides, isn’t it sad to think your potential husband might not even know what you do all day?”

  I shivered for real, and I wished I’d brought a jacket before realizing my shakiness wasn’t from the warm Miami weather. “It’s not going to be a real marriage,” I said, reminding myself as well as Gordon. If I ever forgot, I just needed to replay his words from my initial proposal. I can’t do that.

  “I know,” he said. “But I should know, shouldn’t I? What if somebody asks me at some point?”

  “Then you’ll tell them my work is too boring to concern yourself about.”

  Gordon laughed. “Hey, if I’m going to be a fake husband, I want to be a good fake husband. I’m not letting anyone look down on me because I don’t know what my partner does at work.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes, but I found myself smiling instead. “Nobody would think you were a bad fake husband for not knowing what a hedge fund analyst does.”

  “They might think I was your sugar baby or something,” Gordon said.

  Now, that got my back up. “Whoa now, Mr. Glucose Infant. I’m not even that much older than you.”

  “But you are a lot richer,” Gordon pointed out with no hint of bitterness. “How old are you, anyway?”

  I wondered how he could speak so lightly about his financial situation. I wouldn’t even know who I was if not for my career success. I paid Gordon a decent amount, but not enough for him to have any considerable savings.

  “I’m thirty-four,” I told him.

  I already knew he was twenty-seven. Funny to think I was two years younger than him when Kerry was born. That’d forced me to grow up pretty fast. Of course, I’d already been married for a year by that point.

  Gordon and I had taken very different paths. That wasn’t to say I had any regrets about having Kerry—she was the light of my life. But sometimes I wondered what it would have been like to be single and childless in my twenties, like Gordon was.

  Apparently he was also comparing us, because he commented, “It must’ve been nice to be married and have a child.”

  He couldn’t possibly be jealous of my life, could he? “My last marriage had about as much love as the one I’m about to walk into,” I said, and immediately regretted it when a shadow flashed across Gordon’s face. “I mean, I was fond of my ex, just like I am of you. And I wouldn’t trade Kerry for anything.”

 
“I see,” Gordon said.

  The waiter chose that moment to deposit our food in front of us, and my mouth watered at the ceviche on my plate. Gordon occupied himself twirling some pasta around his fork. When I spoke again, it was only to comment on the food.

  “This isn’t bad,” Gordon said.

  “You thought it would be?” The restaurant was highly rated—and expensive.

  He shrugged. “I usually eat the same kind of stuff I give Kerry. Hot dogs, mac and cheese…”

  “Hot dogs with mac and cheese,” I said teasingly.

  Apparently it was a Canadian thing to combine them. I’d nearly puked the night Kerry showed me the leftovers on the stove. I’d politely but firmly declined to try it and made myself a sandwich instead.

  “You might like it if you tried it,” Gordon said lightly.

  “Never.” I shuddered. “And don’t get me started on your French fries with vinegar.”

  “Shouldn’t you be calling them freedom fries?”

  “Maybe your taste in food will change after we get married.” I took another bite of my fish. “Otherwise we’re going to be cooking separately.”

  When we finished, Gordon sat back and put both hands on his stomach. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” he said. “Marrying my boss feels so illicit.”

  “It’s not like I’ve ever been some kind of dictator to you,” I said. “I’ve always been a pretty relaxed boss, haven’t I?”

  “I don’t know,” Gordon said. “I thought you were going to fire my ass that time when I taught Kerry the temperature in Celsius.”

  Kerry had set the pool heater to twenty-five, not realizing the system used Fahrenheit. “To be fair, I’d just jumped into a freezing cold body of water,” I laughed.

  “I was terrified,” Gordon said, his eyes crinkling. “You climbed out shaking and shuddering with these huge goosebumps all over your body.”

  I dropped my eyes and played with my napkin. My cheeks had just gone hot at the idea of Gordon looking at my body.

  “I’d do it again, too,” he said. “I’ll never, ever convert to Fahrenheit. That system makes zero sense, and you know it.”