Chapter 19 Evan
The team are on our way to New York. It’s our first pre-season game, and Flo, Leo and I sit at the back of the private jet, mainly because I wanted to avoid any conversations with Peter—who’s up front—about Alexander and becoming the face of a brand I’ve never even heard of.
I bounce Leo on my lap, peering over his shoulder at the interactive book he’s reading that makes loud and obnoxious animal sounds whenever you flip a page.
Sam is fed up with it, as he keeps glaring at us through the crack in the seats, moving his finger across his neck like he’s going to slice mine if I don’t give Leo a different form of entertainment in the next few minutes.
“West.” Coach Darrell whistles for me seven rows ahead, poking his head up over the seats. “Up here for me.”
“I got him,” Flo tells me as she takes the book from Leo, who is now sitting in my seat, puts it aside—thank God—and places a pair of purple headphones over his ears. She sets up the mini table so my tablet can balance on it, and presses play.
My son’s eyes immediately light up as talking animals race across the screen in their sports cars, dancing and singing about being the best zoo racers out there. They’re the only zoo racers out there, but kids don’t know that.
“Whisker Wheelers!” Leo exclaims.
“This should keep him entertained and let everyone get some sleep. I’m sure he’ll fall asleep himself after the first episode anyway,” Flo mumbles quietly, nodding to Leo’s drooping eyes, but he dances to the twinkly theme song on her lap regardless.
Sam mouths I fucking love you to Flo before yanking his eye mask back onto his face and letting out a loud snore.
I make my way to the spare seat next to Darrell. “What’s up?”
“Great news. We have a few interviews lined up for full-time nannies who can start whenever needed. All I need is for you to take a look at their applications, talk to them yourselves, and let me know which one of them you like.” Darrell pulls up the notes on his tablet.
“They all have their strengths, but I particularly think Amanda Webster would be a great fit. She’s creative.
Loves travelling. Studied child development and learning at college. I can see her and Leo getting on well.”
There’s a frog stuck in the back of my throat, and I can’t swallow it.
Flo’s replacement.
It feels wrong just thinking about it.
But what am I supposed to say? That I don’t want to hire another nanny and want Flo to stay?
She isn’t, and we all know that. Flo McKenna isn’t replaceable, but there’s no choice.
She’s going on that trip whether I like it or not.
Leo and I are just a chapter in her story.
She’s only passing through, and there’s no guarantee she’ll even come back.
However, there’s nobody on this earth who could make my son feel the way she does, and that goes for me, too.
She lights up every room she walks into, and as much as I’m a grumpy fuck in the mornings, seeing her strolling into my kitchen with mussed hair, puffy undereyes, and body dressed in her frilly sleep shorts and tank top, prepared to fix herself a matcha latte, is one of the best parts of my day.
I’ve already ordered more tubs of the green powder to prevent Flo from running out, but what am I supposed to do with it when she leaves?
Give it to the other nanny? Looking at the photo of Amanda Webster, I can already tell she’s not the type of woman to like matcha.
She probably drinks something boring, like regular coffee, as I do, and claims that these fancy new iced drinks are a sin compared to the classic, bitter taste of good old normal coffee.
I can’t see it—Leo sitting on the side of her hip when I walk in through the door after practice, both of their faces stained with chocolate after hours of baking.
Would he yell her name in excitement like he does with Flo?
Would she practically harass me with questions about taking my son on a dangerous and inappropriate adrenaline-filled pastime I know he’d be too scared to do?
Would her legs tempt me the way Flo’s do?
Would I feel an overwhelming sense of protectiveness over her, so much so that the idea of her leaving makes my heart nearly launch out of the plane window?
I know the answer to all my questions: No.
But it doesn’t matter. I need a new nanny.
“I, uh, need to speak with Flo and see when she’s thinking of… quitting.” I scrunch my eyebrows together. “She’s not leaving for her trip until the end of September, and I want her to save as much money for her trip as she can.”
Darrell hums, shoots me an amused look, and locks his tablet.
He’s trying not to laugh, and I glare at him as he waves me away, telling me, “Go back to your seat, West. Leo might end up loving her more than you at this rate,” while peering back to where Flo is shimmying with my son.
But not before he quickly emails me the applications and orders me to review them sometime soon.
Love.
Does Leo love Flo?
Does Flo love Leo?
I stare. They look perfect together. But that perfection won’t last.
As I’m walking back down the aisle, Bennett grips my thigh, stopping me, and I hike an eyebrow up and look down at him. He’s grinning from ear to ear.
“Dude, are you trying to cop a feel or what?”
Bennett throws his head back with a cackle at the same time he peels his hand off me. “Is now a good time to ask you that question again, Evan?” he says quietly. “Is Flo still just the nanny?”
I follow his line of sight, lasered in on Flo, who’s flattening down Leo’s hair, my son’s eyes sagging as he drops back against her and snuggles into her chest, his thumb finding its way into his mouth—the same way it does whenever he’s comfortable.
My heart pulses, and a string of curse words lingers on my tongue because I’ve just come to the realisation that Flo McKenna was never really just the nanny.
“You shouldn’t have let him sleep on the plane,” Cam scolds me, arms folded as we all watch Leo bounce around in the hotel bar and restaurant at almost eleven in the evening, zooming around the place with a race car in hand, pretending he’s one of the characters from Whisker Wheelers.
“Yeah, now he’s gonna be up all night,” Sam chuckles, sipping on his soda.
My fingers scratch at the back of my neck. “What was I supposed to do? Wake him up with that animal sounds book you all love so much?”
“I’m going to shred that if you leave it unsupervised.” Bennett smirks at me, and Sam agrees with a sharp nod of the head.
Fatigue wreaks havoc in my body. I’ve been cutting down on the amount of coffee I’ve been drinking from Flo’s recommendation because I know I rely on the stuff, and I can’t live like that for the rest of my life.
I know it’ll make me feel better in the long run, but I’m really feeling it in this very moment.
I run a hand down my face, and the guys take note of my dark circles.
“Look, I managed to get some shut eye on the plane, so head up to your room, go and have a shower and a lie down, and come and get Leo when you’re ready, okay? I’ll be down here for at least another hour or so.”
I’m looking at Bennett like he’s my saving grace. In fact, I could kiss the guy right now. “You sure, man?”
“Of course, I can teach him how to shoot apple juice when you’re gone.”
Not knowing whether Bennett’s kidding or not, I throw him a look that could kill before allowing it to soften into appreciation, slapping his back and telling Leo to be good for the guys until I’m back.
As a single father, even an hour to myself is sacred, and I’m looking forward to a steaming hot shower and half an episode of a show in bed in my boxers. The hotel kitchen is open twenty-four hours, so I’m tempted to order myself a steak, too.
Once I’m in my suite, I notice Flo’s bedroom door is closed, as we share the living space but have separate sleeping quarters since I’ll be up early in the morning. I order Leo and myself some food, then shed my clothing and enter the shared bathroom.
My mind wanders to her. What she’s currently doing. Is she awake?
When we arrived at the hotel, she checked into the room straight away with a takeaway burger she’d ordered from the restaurant, and as much as I wanted to offer to join her to eat, I let her have her space.
Stepping into the lava-like shower is both painful and soothing.
My taut muscles instantly loosen, and I rest my head against the brown-tiled wall as the jets pour down on my body.
The shower is relatively quiet, so the hush is easily broken by the unmistakable sound of the door creaking open and someone walking in.