Six of Hearts

Chapter 4

Four

Aria

I spread the letters across my kitchen table Friday morning, studying them like I was preparing for a final exam. Seven children. Six fathers. One nanny position that paid more than I'd made in the last two years combined.

It should have felt too good to be true. Maybe it was.

Noah Blake had called Wednesday evening to ask if I could come by Friday afternoon instead of waiting until Monday. "The other dads want to meet you," he'd explained. "Thought it might be easier to do introductions all at once, before you officially start. Less overwhelming for everyone."

I'd agreed, though I wasn't sure how meeting six single fathers and seven children simultaneously could be *less* overwhelming. But I appreciated the logic—better to face it all at once than drag it out over days.

Now, with a few hours before I needed to leave, I was doing what I did best: preparing.

Noah's letter I practically had memorised. Structural engineer, works for the city. Twin six-year-old boys, Oliver and Theo, who played baseball on weekends. He'd mentioned being half Jewish, using his heritage to teach his sons about acceptance and difference. I'd liked that immediately.

Julian Rivers, CEO of an accounting firm. Six-year-old daughter Hazel, who he described as "not very outgoing." No extracurriculars, which clearly worried him. The concern in his letter had been palpable—a father who wanted to understand his daughter but wasn't sure how to reach her.

Liam Cross and his daughter Mila were new to the group. Lactose allergy for both of them, which meant I'd spent an hour last night researching hidden dairy in common foods. Liam was a prosecutor. Mila did ballet on Saturdays.

Gabriel Stone, a police officer, had a six-year-old son named Caleb. His letter had been blunt about his ex-wife abandoning them, about feeling guilty for the long hours his job demanded. He kept Caleb busy with activities—maybe too busy, I'd wondered, reading between the lines.

Ethan Hart, CEO of an automotive company. Five-year-old Leo, who loved cars and Legos. Ethan's letter had been warm, full of obvious pride in his son. Leo did Lego League after school during the week.

And then there was Ronan Vale.

I picked up his letter again, frowning. He was a construction company CEO. He had a five-year-old son named Finn, who did martial arts on Saturdays. But unlike every other letter, there was no mention of Finn's mother. Not divorced, not separated—just... nothing. As if she'd never existed.

It nagged at me. Was she dead? Had she left? Was it too painful to discuss with a potential nanny?

I set the letter down and rubbed my eyes. Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe it simply wasn't relevant to the job.

But the whole situation was unusual enough that my brain kept circling back to questions.

Six single fathers, all apparently friends, pooling resources to hire one nanny for all their kids?

It was practical, sure. Cost-effective. But it also suggested a level of trust and coordination that seemed. .. rare.

How had they even met? How long had they known each other? And why were they *all* single?

I shook my head. None of my business. My job was to care for the children, not psychoanalyze their fathers.

I gathered up the letters and tucked them into my bag, then pulled out the small wrapped packages I'd prepared. One for each child—nothing expensive, just small gifts chosen based on what I'd learned from their fathers' letters.

For Oliver and Theo, baseball gloves in different colours with their names embroidered on them. Twins deserved to be seen as individuals.

For Mila, a jewellery box with a tiny ballerina inside. I'd painted a small 'M' on the ballerina's costume.

For Caleb, a pocket-sized rain stick. Something tactile and calming, in case he ever felt overwhelmed.

For Hazel, an activity book with different types of puzzles and games. A way to learn what interested her.

For Leo, a small toy car—a green hot rod with red details.

And for Finn, a snow globe I'd carefully modified, painting the snowman inside to look like a tiny ninja.

I wasn't trying to buy their affection. I just wanted them to know I'd been paying attention, that I cared about who they were as individuals. First impressions mattered, especially with children.

I changed into comfortable jeans and a zip-up hoodie—professional enough to meet the fathers, practical enough to interact with kids. Left my hair down, though I'd probably wear it up most days going forward.

As I drove to Noah's address, my stomach fluttered with nerves and excitement. This was it. The job that could change everything—my financial situation, my career trajectory, maybe even my life.

I just hoped I was ready for it.

I was climbing out of my ancient Toyota Corolla when another car pulled up—a sleek, metallic grey Rolls-Royce that made my vehicle look like it had been assembled from spare parts.

The driver's door opened, and a man stepped out. Tall, dark hair falling to his shoulders, wearing jeans and a black long-sleeve shirt that somehow looked effortlessly elegant. He had the kind of face that belonged in magazines—sharp jawline, warm eyes, an easy smile.

He noticed me and his smile widened. "Hello!"

I felt my throat go dry. Get it together, Aria. "Hi," I managed, too quietly.

"What?" He started walking over.

"Hi!" I said louder, feeling my cheeks warm. "I'm Aria."

"Ah, Aria." He extended his hand, and I shook it. His grip was firm, confident. "It's lovely to meet you. I'm Ethan Hart, Leo's dad."

"Nice to meet you too." I tried to sound professional and not like I'd just been mentally cataloging how attractive he was. "I was hoping to meet everyone today."

"Noah thought it would be easier this way," Ethan said. "Ease you into the chaos all at once rather than dragging it out. I wanted to be at your interview, but we figured one of us was intimidating enough."

I laughed. "It was definitely a surprise to learn it was seven kids instead of two. But I'm excited. Your letter about Leo was wonderful—I can't wait to meet him."

Ethan's whole face lit up at the mention of his son. "He's a great kid. I think you two will get along well."

"I actually worked at a Lego League when I was in high school," I offered. "I loved seeing what those kids would come up with."

"Really?" Ethan looked genuinely delighted. "That's fantastic. Leo just started, but he's obsessed. When I was his age, I was just the dork who loved Legos. It's nice that there's a place for kids like him now."

"I'm excited to see him in action."

Ethan's expression turned slightly more serious, his gaze assessing but kind. "If I may say so, Noah wasn't exaggerating. You're going to fit right in here."

The compliment caught me off guard, and I felt heat creep up my neck. "Thank you. I hope so."

"Shall we?" He gestured toward Noah's house.

As we walked up the path, I tried to steady my nerves. Ethan seemed nice—warm, clearly devoted to his son. If the other fathers were anything like him and Noah, this might actually be wonderful.

When we reached the door, I lifted my hand to knock, but Ethan reached around me and simply opened it, stepping inside like he'd done it a thousand times.

Right. They were close enough to just walk into each other's homes.

"Guys?" Ethan called out.

The thunder of small feet echoed through the house, and then a little boy with dark hair in a short ponytail came barreling around the corner. "Daddy!"

Ethan crouched down just in time to catch him.

"Hey! How's my little mechanic?"

"I'm good! I built a race car in school today."

"Did you?" Ethan's pride was obvious. "That's more race cars than I've ever built."

Leo beamed, and something in my chest warmed. This was why I'd wanted this job—moments like this, the pure love between parent and child.

Ethan stood, lifting Leo with him, and turned to me. "I want you to meet someone. This is Aria. She's going to be your new nanny."

I pulled the small wrapped car from my bag and held it out. "Hi, Leo. I got this for you."

Leo's eyes went wide as he unwrapped it—the green hot rod with red details. "Look, Daddy!"

"I see it. Wasn't that nice? Can you say hi?"

"Hi," Leo said softly, clutching the car.

More footsteps, and suddenly the entryway was full of people. Noah appeared with two blonde boys flanking him, his hands resting on their heads.

"Aria, you're here." His smile was genuine, welcoming. "These are my boys. Oliver"—he tapped the one on the left—"and Theo." The one on the right.

"Hi, Oliver. Hi, Theo." I smiled at them both.

A man with warm brown skin and short hair stepped forward, extending his hand. "I'm Liam."

Before I could respond, a little girl with beautiful curly hair in two pigtails bounded around him. "Hi! I'm Mila!"

"Hi, Mila! I'm Aria."

Two more men entered—both tall, both striking in completely different ways.

The first had short blonde hair and bright blue eyes, a tribal tattoo sleeve down his left arm, and a quirky half-smile. He held a little boy who looked just like him.

"Gabriel," he said. "This is Caleb."

The other man was more reserved, wearing a suit despite it being Friday afternoon. Buzz-cut brown hair, navy blue eyes, a warm but measured smile. He held the hand of a small boy with auburn hair.

"Ronan," he said simply. "And this is Finn."

Something about Ronan drew my attention—a quietness, a careful control. Finn stayed close to his father's side, watching me with intelligent eyes.

The last man entered with a little girl whose hand was clasped in his. Darker blonde hair, tan skin, a smile that seemed to brighten the whole room.

"I'm Julian," he said, his voice deep and pleasant. "And this is Hazel."

"Hi, Hazel." I smiled at her, and she smiled back shyly.

"Hi."

I looked around at all of them—six men, seven children, all watching me with varying degrees of curiosity and hope.

The fathers stood together with an ease that spoke of real friendship, real trust. Whatever this arrangement was, it wasn't just practical. It was personal.

"I have something for each of you," I told the kids, kneeling down and pulling out the wrapped packages.

They gathered around me, and I handed out the gifts one by one. The twins' faces lit up when they saw their personalised gloves. Mila gasped at the ballerina jewellery box.

Caleb examined the rain stick with fascination, and I showed him how to turn it slowly, watching the beads fall.

"If you ever feel worried or overwhelmed, you can use this to help calm down," I explained. "Your dad has one too, so you can do it together."

Gabriel's expression softened as he looked at the matching rain stick in his hand.

Hazel opened her activity book carefully, flipping through the pages. "Thank you," she said quietly.

And Finn—Finn stared at the ninja snowman like I'd given him treasure. "I love it," he whispered.

My throat tightened. "I'm so glad."

I looked up at all of them—these seven beautiful children who I was going to get to know, get to care for. "Is it okay if I help take care of you guys?"

"Yeah!" they chorused.

"Yay!" I opened my arms, and they piled in for a hug, all warmth and excitement and acceptance.

When they scattered to play with their new gifts, I stood to face the fathers. Six pairs of eyes watched me with expressions ranging from approval to relief to something I couldn't quite name.

"Welcome to the family, Aria," Liam said, then followed the kids.

Gabriel gave me a nod and a smile before heading after them.

Ronan held my gaze for a moment longer. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For Finn's gift. He'll treasure it."

Then he too left, and I was alone with Noah, Julian, and Ethan.

Noah pulled a set of keys from his pocket and handed them to me. "For the Kid Cruiser."

I took them with a laugh, remembering his story about the minivan. "Thank you."

"Julian handles all the administrative stuff," Noah explained, his hand on Julian's shoulder. "He'll get you set up with payments and benefits."

"I'll be in the office tomorrow," Julian said. "Stop by when you can, and we'll get everything squared away."

"I will. Thank you."

Julian's smile was warm. "I think this is going to work out well."

I looked at the three of them—Noah with his quiet strength, Julian with his easy confidence, Ethan with his genuine warmth. Behind them, I could hear the children's laughter, the other fathers' voices.

This was unusual.

Six single fathers, all friends, all trusting each other enough to share childcare. All trusting *me* enough to let me into their lives, their homes, their children's hearts.

I didn't understand it yet. But standing there, listening to the sound of family, I wanted to.

"It certainly does," I agreed.

And I meant it.