Chapter Seven
VIVI
The dry-erase board in my kitchen stares back at me as I take a step away from it, snapping the cap of my marker back into place:
REASONS TO MARRY JAMESON
Written in big bold letters on the right side of the newly crisp white board that I just wiped clean of my wedding to-do list that I had crossed off before my wedding day, my list seems so vastly different with one small decision:
Dress fitting on Tuesday
Confirm inbound flight with mom
Dress rehearsal Friday
And now the new list reads:
He’s a great business partner
I gave him my word
I’ll get to keep my CEO position
It’s a start anyway. To remind myself every day why marrying Jameson is the right call. Thank God that I start for Trey today because I could really use the distraction.
I reach for my phone when a call comes through—Isla.
She must have seen the text I sent her this morning about agreeing to nanny for Trey last night.
"You did what?" Isla practically shrieks into the phone before I even have a chance to say hello.
I hold it away from my ear, wincing. "Good morning to you as well, my lovely sister. I may have offered to be Adeline's temporary nanny."
I also kissed a man who was doing me a favor and misread the moment, but there is no way I'm telling her that part. I'm still completely mortified.
"May have?"
"Okay, fine. I did." I say putting her on speaker as I set my phone on the counter to pull on my hoodie before heading off to Trey's this morning. Trey's jacket is still draped over my kitchen chair, and I'm trying very hard not to think about how it smells like him. "It made sense at the time."
"Well duh, I could have told you that last night before you kicked me in the shin. Thanks for that by the way—it’s bruised.”
“You’ll live,” I say, rolling my eyes at her exaggeration, though she can’t see me. “And people think I’m the dramatic one,” I say sarcastically.
“Okay, start from the beginning. When exactly did this happen?"
"Last night. After you left Oakley's with Kaenan, when Trey dropped me off at home.”
My brain replays a birds-eye view of every moment with Trey, walking me up to my door, right up until the moment I told him I would be Adeline's nanny.
The excitement I felt in my belly, something that's been missing with Jameson…
or really, any of the last dead-end relationships I've had over the last decade.
Not that Trey and I are in a relationship… obviously.
"And you're just telling me now?" The betrayal in her voice would be comical if I weren't already questioning my own sanity.
"At least I’m telling you. The attitude is unwelcome by the way.
As it is, I've been trying to process it all myself.
" I walk over to my office off of the kitchen and grab my monthly planner so I can take notes today regarding Trey's hockey schedule and Adeline's extra-curricular activities. "God, what was I thinking?"
"I know what you were thinking. You were thinking about those rock-hard glutes and those massive, ink-covered arms," she says, and I can hear the smirk in her voice. "You don't have to tell me, Sis. It turns out you and I might have the same type."
"And what would that be?" I ask.
"Hot hockey players who know how to toss you around in bed and make you forget all about your cheating ex-fiancé."
That last part about the cheating fiancé was more specific to her experience than mine, but it doesn't stop the image of Trey on top of me in bed naked with hot, sweaty muscles and that smirk of his as he pants, thrusting into me.
I feel a hot flush of desire pool low in my belly and goosebumps break out down my arms.
For the love of God, get a grip. He's just a man.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the imagery.
"Not helping," I mutter, turning to head for the front door and then remembering I forgot Isla's car keys on the kitchen counter.
I'm distracted. Something that rarely happens to me.
I'm usually incredibly focused—every decision, every action created with precise intention.
"Besides, I'm doing this for the money until the board reinstates me and because Trey and Adeline need help. No other reason."
God… I even think I moaned when I slid my fingers around the back of his neck and pulled him to me and felt his warm lips on mine.
I brace my fingers around my forehead and slam my eyes shut. I'm so embarrassed.
"So what are you going to do?"
I glance at my phone. No texts yet, though he has my number now. The thought makes my stomach flutter like I'm sixteen again.
"I guess I'm going to be a nanny. It’s been a while, but it’s like riding a bike, and Adeline and I already know each other and get along really well.
Not to mention that I built an entire company around connecting families with childcare.
I should be able to handle one nine-year-old for six weeks. "
"Uh-huh." Isla's tone drips skepticism. "And the fact that said nine-year-old's uncle is six-foot-five of pure muscle with a jawline that could cut glass has nothing to do with your decision?"
"He needs help," I say defensively. "And I need a distraction and something to keep my mortgage paid, at least for now."
"What’s the distraction for? The fact that in six weeks you're supposed to marry Jameson Holiday? Or the fact that said fiancé is currently living it up in Greece with your wedding planner?"
"Both?" I groan, grabbing my purse and slinging the strap over my shoulder. Maybe I should be jealous that Jameson took Natasha on our honeymoon, but considering that he’s using her as some kind of chess move to keep Genevieve from doing anything to force him home before the honeymoon is over, I’m more concerned that Natasha is in paradise with a man she despises.
The whole thing seems off. But if Genevieve believes that Jameson paid her off to go with him, well, then it makes more sense.
After the fact that I cost her a large commission and her job, I can’t be all that shocked that she would have agreed to that.
And besides that point, I can't hide the fact that I don't have feelings for Jameson enough to be jealous…not like that anyway. Though this whole thing would probably be easier if I did. Still, I know that Jameson and I are a perfect match on paper.
In six weeks, if he ever returns, we'll marry and it will all make sense.
"I don't know, Isla. Everything's such a mess right now.
The board's breathing down my neck, the media won't leave me alone, and Mrs. Holiday keeps sending these texts about 'salvaging the situation.
' At least this way I'll be too busy to obsess over it all. "
"Too busy obsessing over Trey instead?"
Yep, I'm definitely not telling her about that kiss.
She'll never let me live it down. My cheeks are already warming at the idea of seeing Trey again this morning after that happened.
Will he let me pretend that it didn't happen?
Or am I going to have to address the elephant in the room? I guess we'll see soon enough.
"I hate you."
"No, you don't." She pauses. "Just…be careful, okay? This could get complicated really fast."
"I know," I say as I head for the door, grabbing Trey's jacket off the chair as I head for my front door.
I catch myself in the entry mirror. I look exactly how I feel—conflicted, confused, and completely out of my depth.
"But maybe that's what I need right now.
Something real. Something that matters."
"It worked for me," she singsongs. "I was so pissed at you for tricking me into nannying for Kaenan." She laughs. "But I guess I owe you one because it worked out better than I could have imagined. I can't even think of what my life would have been like if I had married dad's successor."
She’s right. I do owe her one. Her words remind me that, even though this whole Holiday merger was my way of keeping Dad out of my business and stopping him from controlling me the way he tried to control Isla, I can’t ignore how my wedding to Jameson mirrors Isla’s engagement.
The only difference is that I picked Jameson. My dad didn’t. I walked into an arranged marriage—but one I arranged for myself.
"Yeah, well, I doubt this will end with me married to Trey Hartley."
As soon as the words slip out, I freeze, and there's awkward static on the line.
"Vivi…"
"I didn't mean—" My phone buzzes with a text, cutting me off. "Hold on."
It's a text from Trey with his address.
My heart does a little flip that has nothing to do with the logistics of childcare.
"He just texted," I tell Isla. "Sending me his address."
"You're going over there today?"
"He needs a nanny now, and I have nothing to do until the board reinstates my position or Jameson comes home. Besides, I owe him."
"Right. Because you always offer to nanny for hot, single hockey players who rescue you from your own wedding."
"Exactly. Slap that on a bumper sticker. Goodbye, Isla."
Her laugh follows me as I hang up. I stare at Trey's text for a moment, then type out a response.
Vivi: Great! See you soon.
Trey: Thanks again for doing this.
I hate how fast I grab at my phone the second I hear his response come through, and the dopey smile across my lips when I read his text.
Vivi: Happy to help.
I set my phone down, then grab it again.
Vivi: I'm bringing back your jacket.
Three dots appear, disappear, appear again. My heart pounds stupidly hard as I wait.
Trey: Keep it. Looks better on you anyway.
Oh.
I clutch my phone like a teenager who just got a text from her crush. This is bad. This is very, very bad.
And yet… I can't stop smiling.
Showing up at Trey Hartley's front door at seven forty-five a.m. wearing yoga pants isn't the most professional look for my first day as a nanny.
But after tossing and turning all night, replaying that kiss and the heat in his eyes when he'd said, "We'd already be halfway to your bedroom," my usual polished CEO wardrobe felt wrong.