Chapter 6 #2
Grayson’s reply is quieter, rough around the edges. “It’s not just calling out,” he says. “She checked out weeks ago. Penny’s been complaining that Ellie’s barely paid attention to her lately, always on her phone or her laptop. That’s not how this is supposed to work, y’know?”
My chest squeezes. Is he talking about his daughter’s mom? A babysitter? “They’re talking about someone who looks after his daughter," I whisper to Zoe.
He goes on, and I find myself leaning minutely back in my seat, the words threading right into my ears. Zoe stares at me, entirely unimpressed.
“I need a nanny that’s actually consistent,” he says. Nanny. That’s who they’re talking about. “Someone who’s actually there when they say they will be. Live-in, if I can find someone willing. With the NFL deal ramping up, I can’t keep leaving the office early because childcare falls apart.”
His friend makes a sympathetic noise. “Yeah, that’s rough.”
“I’m just fucked at the moment. I can’t rely on Halsey to take any of her fair share of the load, and now I’m down someone to take care of Pen outside school hours.
” The word lands heavy. “But I couldn’t just keep pretending it was working.
Penelope cried for twenty minutes when I told her Ellie wasn’t coming back, and I still don’t know if she was crying about losing the nanny or because she thought that yet another person bailing was her fault. ”
I stare down at my plate, the room blurring a little.
I know that feeling all too well, and I certainly wouldn’t wish it on a child.
And he sounds wrecked. Not unsteady, but there’s something under the control that normally fuels his voice — something that makes my throat burn from sympathy.
I quickly relay what’s being said to Zoe, and she lets out a quiet, impressed whistle.
“Wow,” she murmurs. “Single dad with a hero complex. No wonder all of you are feral over him.”
“Shut up,” I whisper, but there’s no heat in it. His obvious care for his kid shouldn’t make him hotter.
But it absolutely does.
“I need to hire someone new, like, immediately,” Grayson says, frustration threading through his voice.
“Which makes this ten times harder because I need to vet every single one, and I just don’t have the time right now, man.
It was a miracle Cole and Dana could watch her for a bit tonight.
But how the hell am I supposed to find someone within days that I trust to live in my house?
Someone good with four-year-olds who ask a lot of questions about why their family doesn’t look like everybody else’s?
I can’t just pick a random stranger off a list.”
His friend grunts in sympathy. “Maybe ask Cole if he knows anyone.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” he sighs. “It’s just... Penny deserves stability. Not this revolving door of adults who leave. I just don’t know how to make sure I’m giving her that.”
Something in my chest lurches at that. It takes me a minute to relay what’s being said, and instead of rolling her eyes at my clear invasion of my boss’s privacy, her brows lift.
“He wants a live-in Nanny?” she says, voice low and wicked. “God, imagine. His place must be a mansion. Infinity pool. Wine fridge. Closet the size of my entire apartment.”
“It is. I’ve seen pictures,” I mumble automatically, then feel my cheeks heat at the implication hanging in the words: I’ve googled him too many times.
“Of course you have,” she huffs. “Bet it’s out in Pine Brook Hills.”
“It is—”
The idea hits me like a truck.
Living in his house. A working bathroom.
My own space. Not having to crash with Zoe anymore like a teen whose mother kicked them out.
Being there in the mornings when Penelope wakes up.
Making sure someone shows up at pickup. Making dinner that isn’t takeout.
Drawing with her at the kitchen table while he reads emails on his laptop.
Working on designs at the dining room table after she’s in bed. Knowing he’s upstairs. Knowing he’s—
I set my glass down.
“Carly,” Zoe says warningly.
“What?” I ask, my voice coming out too bright, too thin.
“You’re doing the thing,” she says. “The thing where you get an idea when you’re drunk, and it’s definitely not a good one.”
I slip toward the end of the booth.
“Don’t,” she hisses, eyes widening. “Do not stand up. Do not—Carly—”
But I’m already on my feet.
My head is buzzing, but my legs feel steady. The room seems weirdly clear all of a sudden, the way it does right before a bad decision.
Or a very good one.
Grayson is sitting with his back partially to me, shoulders tense under the dark fabric of his shirt. His friend is saying something, but I can’t hear it over the roar in my ears.
I walk over to their table before I can think better of it, my feet moving entirely on their own.
Both men look up as I stop beside them.
Grayson’s eyes widen a fraction when he recognizes me.
“Carly,” he says, surprised. “I didn’t realize—”
“I’ll do it,” I say, cutting him off.
Silence descends over the table, thick and heavy enough to slice.
Grayson’s brows pull together. “I’m sorry, you’ll do what, exactly?”
My mouth is dry.
My heart is trying to punch its way out of my chest.
The confidence is wearing off, but I’m already here.
I’m already talking.
I might as well finish it.
“I’ll look after your daughter.”