CEO's Secret Baby: A Single Dad & Nanny Romance Page 10

  My son needed a father, not a basket case. I had to draw the line. Had to make her stay away. Even if she was right, even if she saw through all my bullshit and knew I was half crazed with wanting her, I had to keep her back. I had to find a way to strengthen my resolve and to never again think of her touching herself in the bathroom stall thinking of me. That way was pure insanity.

  I worked from home the next afternoon and got David from school. He begged me to go pick up Jess so we could do something fun together. I refused, and said she needed to work, when really I needed time away from her. The force of that attraction was too much to bear. So he and I played video games, drew some pictures at his easel, and had dinner. He talked a lot about the football game and begged to go back. I told him maybe sometime, which is dad code for never. Fortunately he hadn’t picked up on that yet.

  At odd moments, I would remember something she did or said. The way she’d traced my jaw and lips with her fingers, the way she made me laugh and made fun of me. The way she put David at ease and went on about the asparagus like it was an achievement. The way she couldn’t keep her hands off me either, the fact that the attraction was as mutual as it was radioactive. She had never wanted anyone the way she wanted me. I could go to my grave living off those words. And the way she’d kissed my shoulders and bitten my bicep. It had made me feel like I was Rocky Balboa or some other film reference she was too young to remember. I wanted her down to my bones. Wanted the curl of her lip when she came, wanted the curve of her back against my palm when I tucked her hips down against me so she could take even more of my cock. I’d never been so hard, never lasted so long or gone again so quickly as I had with Jessica. My body cried out for hers. I wanted to have her every minute of the day, wanted to hear her opinions and laugh at her jokes and come inside of her with the force of an earthquake and hold on when it threatened to rip us apart.

  Already it felt like a wound, being apart from her for only a day. When David asked to FaceTime her, I agreed, cravenly because I wanted to hear her voice. I would be able to deduce from her tone whether she was mad at me or done with me. Or if she was happy she’d see me in the morning. I put in her contact information and handed him the phone. He trotted off to his room and I lurked in the hallway, jealous.

  “Hey, buddy!” she said brightly in her voice that was lower, richer than I remembered. It struck me somewhere below the collarbone just hearing her.

  “Hi, Jess! I missed you today. Daddy was home. So no ice cream after school, shhh!” he giggled. So she’d been giving him ice cream, I thought.

  “Dude, we’re not supposed to mention that. First rule of ice cream club is—”

  “There was no ice cream!” he cackled and her laughter joined his.

  It was killing me. I wanted to be part of it. I wandered into the kitchen for a drink of water. When I returned they were still talking. I heard David say, “I hear him coming. Do you want to talk to him?”

  “No, that’s okay. You wash behind your ears for me, okay?” and then she hung up.

  She was definitely angry. That was good. I wouldn’t send her flowers again, or go to her workplace, or ask her to sneak around with me or kiss me or anything else completely stupid and dangerous. I’d just let it go. She could be angry until the anger got the better of any finer feelings she might have had. It was the kindest way to proceed. I’d just go ahead and leave the situation alone.

  When she arrived in the morning, I didn’t kiss her or touch her. I said, “Good morning,” with indifferent politeness as if she’d been Mrs. Henderson.

  She just nodded at me and went to see David. And I went to work shamelessly wearing the Chicago Bears socks she’d given me like a sad sack teenager whose crush had dumped him. I managed to forget about her while I worked. I had to work late, so I had my assistant notify her. The less direct contact between us, the better. I arrived home at seven-thirty. They had eaten. David was in his pajamas. They were reading together. He was reading one of those short sight-word books from school about a worm. He was so serious about it, and she helped him sound out a word he struggled with. I lingered in the doorway, taking in that picture of the pair of them snuggled up and reading together. I cleared my throat, “Good evening,” I said.

  She glanced up, “We’ll be done here in a minute.” It was as if she’d dismissed me from my own son’s room in my own home. I stood there and listened as they finished the book. He hugged her fiercely around the neck and she hugged him back.

  “I’ve gotta go, buddy. Sweet dreams.”

  “Tell him I didn’t have any dessert,” he whispered with a sneaky grin.

  “No way, Mrs. Henderson would tell on us. See you Friday.”

  “Can I call you tomorrow when I miss you?”

  “Yeah. I’m working the afternoon, till eight. So you can call to say goodnight if your dad says it’s okay.”

  “He will,” David said, and hugged her again. She tucked the covers up over him and gave him a dinosaur to cuddle, “Bye, I’ll miss you!”

  “I’ll miss you, too!” she sang out, and edged by me in the doorway. She went to get her shoes and bag. I stayed with David and didn’t go speak to her or tell her goodbye. It was an effort not to go after her.

  Friday was much the same. I said good morning. I told her to have a nice weekend when she was leaving. I did not suggest that we would see her outside of her working hours. David piped up to remind me that we were supposed to go to the Science and Industry Museum together.

  “Perhaps Jessica has other plans,” I said smoothly.

  “I’d never cancel on my best guy,” she said, smiling at my son. If the barb was meant to dig into me, it did. But it was just as it should be—she was assuming that my interest had cooled, and we were returning to nothing more than a professional relationship.

  “Then the driver will collect you tomorrow at ten. If there’s a problem, you can message him.”

  “Right,” she said and rolled her eyes. She told David goodbye and left. It was going to be a long Saturday. I didn’t like to think of what it would be like spending hours in a museum with her and my son, and how I would fight to forget all we had been to each other and how easy and perfect everything had been at the Bears game only the weekend before. And how she had felt in my arms and in my bed.

  Saturday I woke early. I did double my usual workout to try to clear some of the tension from my mind. I planned everything I could, including a predetermined exit time from the museum. I told David the schedule over breakfast. We’d go to the museum and buy the tickets and wait for Jessica there instead of picking her up and riding together. We would go to the temporary exhibit together and then have lunch. After lunch we would split up, and I would take him to the hands-on kid section while she had time to enjoy the museum on her own. He objected because he wanted to be with her the whole time, and I resorted to gift shop bribery. I would let him pick out something in the gift shop at the end of the day if he behaved himself and didn’t ask to go with her after lunch. We would say goodbye at the end of the day and he could even get her a present if he wanted to. But he had to be respectful of the schedule. This way I minimized the time I had to spend with her, reducing it to one exhibit and lunch when I could count on David to monopolize the conversation. I would check my email or otherwise ignore her. It was a pathetic plan but it was all I had.

  I left her ticket at the window for her and we waited in the atrium where David stood in the center and rotated slowly, trying to read the names there like Foucault. When she joined us, he ran to her. She caught him in her arms and hugged him while I regulated my breathing and concentrated on the ring of names on the ceiling as if I didn’t notice her.

  “Daddy, she’s here!” David announced. I nodded.

  “We planned to visit the temporary exhibit first. Is that acceptable?” I said diffidently.

  “I suppose,” she said, “although I was looking forward to seeing David splashing around in the kid section.”

  “We’re doin
g that after you go off on your own,” he informed her.

  “Why would I go on my own when I’m here to be with you?” she said, “Silly boy.”

  “See, Daddy, she doesn’t want time alone!” he said.

  “We discussed this, David,” I warned. He looked at me pleadingly.

  “Sorry, Daddy,” he said, “Sorry, Jess. There’s a plan. I have to stick to the plan.”

  “Okay,” Jessica said slowly. She was probably working out my plan to avoid her.

  We headed to the exhibit, with David holding both our hands, walking between us. It was a good thing, reminding me that he was the only link, all we had in common. As we filed in to the exhibit and I quietly read placards of details to David, she wandered a little ahead. My eyes kept flitting to where she stood, and I’d lose my place and have to start reading all over again.

  “Just go talk to her,” David said.

  “What?”

  “Jess. She’s nice. If you say sorry, she’ll say it’s okay.”

  “It’s not that simple,” I said, “This isn’t like stepping on someone’s foot. I appreciate your concern, but—”

  “MYOB?”

  “What?”

  “Mind your own business. It’s a thing in kindergarten. My teacher says it when I try to boss people.”

  “Good idea. So, MYOB, David.”

  “I will, but you have to say sorry. You made her sad. I can tell.”

  “For real, buddy. Mind your business.”

  “Okay, okay,” he said, and moved toward her.

  She reached for his hand and held it, pointed out something on the display to him. I hung back, watching them together. Just because I didn’t want to be around her didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy each other’s company. I wondered idly if I should offer to pay her to take him through the museum without me, to spare me being near her. I decided that was ridiculously rude, when I was already being rude enough to her.

  I followed them around, kept a respectful distance. At times, I engaged David and talked about part of the exhibit. He came to check in with me twice, but mostly he led her around and she read the signs to him. I heard him cackle with laughter, saw her bending down to kiss him on the head. Then he told me they were ready for lunch. I ordered his turkey sandwich and juice, his apple slices. I got myself a large coffee, bitter and black, and paid for her sandwich and chips. She slipped him potato chips while I pretended not to notice. They were having so much fun. I was the outsider here, I thought. Still, when lunch was finally over—it seemed like forever—we parted ways and promised to meet at the gift shop at three.

  David played in the kids’ section, squirting water at targets, blocking streams of water with plastic dams, moving magnets around on a board. I took pictures. I videoed him. I applauded his achievements and helped him figure things out that puzzled him. I longed to send the videos to Jessica, the funny picture of David with his tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth with concentration. She would share my joy, but I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t promote that intimacy or treat David as though he were partly hers. I sent the picture to a friend of mine who replied with a photo of his own kids playing on the trampoline. I had to content myself with that superficial connection. I had to stop longing for a co-parent. Had to stop fixating on Jessica.

  I paid for the stuffed animal David wanted and the tie-dye pink and purple stuffed kitten he chose for Jessica. I didn’t know why he thought she’d want it—she’d never show an inclination for either cats or tie-dyed fabric to my knowledge, but she acted like it was the one thing she’d always wanted most. She hugged him, praised his thoughtfulness and promised to keep it on her bed. I was sickeningly jealous that she liked it so well. She wasn’t pretending either. She was sincere. Even her sincerity made me feel ill. I needed to be away from her.

  I summoned two cars and we separated after she and David hugged like they were being parted by oceans and wars and she swore she’d see him at six-thirty sharp on Monday morning. In the car, I told him I was glad he liked her so much but that she was only his temporary nanny.

  “Can’t she stay forever? Please?”

  “No, she isn’t part of this family.”

  “She could be. Mrs. Henderson has been around since I was born and you don’t act all weird around her.”

  “Mrs. Henderson is—a different person,” I sighed.

  “Yeah, well, in kindergarten you learn about these things. You need to tell her sorry and—I know, I’ll MYOB in a minute, but, Daddy, you can’t go around being mean to her.”

  “I was not mean to her.”

  “You were so mean to her.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Call her.”

  “No. You’re being bossy and disrespectful. I think you need to eat something and take a nap.”

  “Maybe YOU need to,” he said grumpily.

  “Enough, David,” I said, feeling weary.

  When he was asleep, she called me. My phone rang, and Jessica’s number appeared on the display. I looked at it for three rings, debating whether to answer. I wanted to, just wanted to hear her voice.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Are you going to talk to me about this? About whatever’s wrong?” she said without greeting.

  “I’m fine thanks, and how are you this evening?” I said wryly.

  “Don’t give me that crap. You’re avoiding me. You barely spoke to me the last week. Today I thought you were going to hide behind a post at one point just to keep away from me.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss.”

  “Right. So you can just turn it off? Everything we shared, and what you said to me, and what it was like kissing you. It’s all gone now? Fine. I’m still David’s nanny. I’m not leaving him. And don’t say I didn’t try to make this work, because I would never have called you tonight if I didn’t care. Let’s be honest, it’s been pretty humiliating so far. But I care for you as well as for your son. I think it’s worth the risk.”

  I hung up regretfully. I didn’t take a drink. I wanted one, but I would be damned if I went down that road again, especially not with my son depending on me. I went to my home gym and ran six miles. It didn’t help at all.

  9

  Jessica

  William had decided that I wasn’t worth the risk. He was ghosting me, even though I saw him five days a week between working for him and working at the diner where he and David came in for pancakes and awkwardness.

  If it hadn’t been for disappointing David, I would’ve paid someone to take their table, so I didn’t have to go over there. It was hard enough keeping to a narrow path of “good morning” and “good evening” and speaking no other words to him at his house. But in my section at the diner where I was used to being bubbly, having personality and warmth, it was like walking a tightrope for me to see him there. To know I’d have to act like nothing was wrong in front of his son while inside my heart was twisted into a knot.

  I smiled my fake smile. The one I saved for customers who told racist jokes or commented on the length of my uniform skirt.

  I approached the table and smiled down at the handsome little boy, oblivious to the war going on between his father and I.

  “Pancakes, David?” I said. He nodded.

  “And for you, sir?” I said crisply, not acknowledging William with a look.

  “Just coffee.”

  “Ok,” I said and went to the kitchen. When I peeked out, William was playing some game on paper with David, not staring at his phone, as he had been when I had taken their order. I wondered if he didn’t order food because he was afraid I’d poison it or if seeing me took his appetite. Either way, he could eat or not eat, it was nothing to me. Or it shouldn’t be anything that I wondered about.

  I served the meal and coffee. I did one word of hangman with David and gave him a quick hug. My excuse was that I was busy with my other tables. I was busy, that was the truth. But I had never once in two years been so busy I wouldn’t sit down beside him for a cou
ple of minutes. It wrenched me to do it, to slight him as I avoided his father. So I dropped back by and kissed him on the head, made a show of checking behind his ears to see if he’d scrubbed. He giggled and hugged me and pretended like he wouldn’t let go. I got a little choked up then, but I tried my best to hide it from him.

  After work, I went out for a drink with Nicki. She bought me a margarita and asked me what the hell was wrong.

  “Man troubles.”

  “The man you’ve been mooning after for the last two years? The rich guy that looks like sex on a stick?”

  “Yeah, let’s talk about something else. I don’t know what I did wrong. Maybe I’m just not his type.”

  “I can tell you what you did wrong. You don’t have a house in the Hamptons and you didn’t have a damn great grandpa on the Mayflower. Guys like that don’t hang out with the help,” Nicki said.

  “I don’t think he’s like that. I don’t think he’s really stuck up. I think he’s been hurt before and just protects himself. He’s stand-offish.”

  “He’s a snob. You didn’t go to Vassar. You wait tables and bring him coffee. He thinks he’s out of your league. Never mind that you’re worth ten of him,” she said loyally.