Chapter 3
Maren
The last time I was this far east was for a blind date that wasn’t meant to be.
I showed up at Charles Playhouse expecting a night of improv with a cute guy from Liv’s work.
But I ended up sitting in the audience alone, watching him act in the show.
That was the date. Watching him. I bailed when he tried to call me up as a volunteer in one of his scenes and to this day, Liv was convinced the night could’ve ended better if I’d stuck it out.
I shook off the memory as I turned a corner into the swanky brick facades and iron railings that lined Marlborough.
Leaves curled over themselves in shades that made fall a feeling more than a season.
But instead of whispering to me about all things toasty and cozy, it screamed you don’t belong here in all caps.
I shifted the strap of my bag and focused on the scuff of my boots on the sidewalk. One foot in front of the other. I wasn’t here to belong. Definitely not as someone’s nanny. My plan had taken a detour, but it wasn’t trashed. Not yet.
A roof over my head, money in my bank account, a rest stop along this tightrope of desperate circumstance.
I slowed to a stroll and double-checked the address against the email I’d received earlier this morning.
As I got closer, I discovered my potential employer didn’t live in just any old overpriced brownstone in one of the nicest parts of town.
Ethan Cross lived in the brownstone on the corner, its angles catching the sun just a little differently than the others.
Large windows wrapped around the side, and a small tree framed the entrance as if announcing the house.
Presence, was the word I was looking for. The place had presence.
And me? I had half a mind to turn around and go back to sending out job applications to neighboring schools in my area.
I still had a few days to be out of our apartment.
What if the perfect job needed me to hold out a little longer?
I wouldn’t have to step outside of my five-year plan at all.
Everything would be back on track. Except, of course, for the white picket fence and pigeon pair that was supposed to happen in exactly three years.
My heart iced over with a vice-like chill.
But, no.
I took a breath and squared my shoulders, the sun at my back casting my shadowed figure across the steps leading up to Ethan Cross’ front door. I was done moping and mourning that motherfucker. This was about getting back on my feet. By myself. Screw my ex and his romantic getaway in Bora Bora.
Adrenaline and sheer stubbornness spread through my knock, but I realized too late to stop the way it rattled the door.
It wrenched open, and my hand froze mid-air.
My brain straight up stalled. He wasn’t anything I’d expected.
Broad shoulders filled the doorway, smiling eyes (a little flustered, but kind), hair I wanted to run my fingers through, and a neatly trimmed beard that said he spent time in the mirror, but never lingered.
“We have a bell.” The low timber of his voice trembled through me.
But before I could launch into an apology, a little girl darted out in a blur of blonde curls and pressed the doorbell.
“Ding, dong, ditch,” she chanted over and over, and loudly enough to go echoing down the street behind me.
“Sadie!”
She screamed with laughter and bolted back into the house, toward the deep voice that had just called out to her. When I looked up, the guy I assumed was Ethan Cross had a sheepish grin.
“Kids,” he said with a breathy laugh.
Years as a kindergarten teacher primed me for that very expression, for the specific tilt of his head as he said the word. I was always amused by parents’ mild embarrassment on behalf of their kids when they were just… being kids.
“She looks just like you.” I did what I always did in situations like this, and smoothed it over with something they were proud of.
“Thanks, but that’s only because my brother and I share a face.” He stuck out his hand. “Ethan Cross.”
I took it. “Maren Calloway. Pleased to meet you.”
Why was he interviewing nannies for his brother’s kid? Where was the brother? Was there a mom in the picture? And why did the house smell like burnt cookies?
“Ignore the mess,” Ethan said as he guided me past the living room. “We’ll do the interview in my office where I can hear myself think.”
I knew I was meant to follow him down the hall, but my feet stopped dead once I took in the sight.
There were two more of them. Kids, that is.
A boy glued to his Nintendo on the couch, and another girl who teamed up with her sister in a grossly unfair game of tug of war.
They grunted and huffed as their opponents—two grown men—gripped the length of knotted dishtowels without budging an inch.
“You call that muscle?” One of the guys said. Younger than Ethan. The tumble of dark curls on his head and playful gleam in his hazel eyes made him look even more so. “Come on, Emma. You gotta give us a challenge.”
The man behind him wasn’t as invested, but proved to be a sturdy anchor all the same.
He had the end of the makeshift rope wrapped around one hand, the other stifling a fake, over-emphasized yawn.
When Emma grumbled about the split being unfair, he broke into a dimpled smile that was entirely uncalled for.
“You gotta let us win,” Sadie whined. “That’s the rules, Uncle Ace.”
The girls were red in the face, giggling and pulling like their lives depended on it.
The rug slipping beneath their feet was obviously Persian, and I recognized the sofa from a home interior magazine I’d paged through at my dentist’s office.
That whole ‘Pays handsomely’ note on the ad suddenly made sense.
There was no mistaking the smell of money in here, from the high ceilings with tiered crown molding, to the carved marble fireplace and abstract art.
Ethan cleared his throat, and I whipped around to find him motioning toward an open door some way down the hall. I hurried over with a mumbled apology, and slipped into his office.
Much like what I’d seen of the house so far, this room kept with the theme of subtle extravagance.
The walls were hunter green, with brass accents that livened it up, and most of the floor space belonged to a stunning rosewood desk.
He settled into the leather chair behind it, and motioned for me to take one of the plush seats on the other side.
“Will your brother be joining us?” Neither of the guys in the living room shared Ethan’s face, as he’d put it, and I was curious about how many men were floating around this house.
His easy smile wavered. It would’ve been imperceptible if I hadn’t been so focused on his mouth.
“Not today,” he said, then paused, as if he were choosing his next words carefully. “My nephew and nieces will be staying with me, and I need a nanny who’ll take up the primary care role.”
I picked at the fraying stitches on the strap of my bag. “And by primary care, you mean…?”
“It’s a live-in position,” he said, nodding slowly. I could tell he was making an effort at formality and professionalism but it was clear he’d had a tough day. “September thru January is the busiest season for our company, which means you’ll be breakfast to bedtime.”
“All three of them, all day.” I wondered if he’d even read my resume.
“They usually visit over summer, and it’s two weeks of undivided attention,” he said, a shadow of guilt weighing down his expression.
He cared about them. “I don’t want them to feel like I don’t want them around, so I’d like them to tag along for consults and stuff.
With you keeping them busy at the right times, of course. ”
“Of course.” No level of attractive facial symmetry would’ve softened the blow. All things equal, this was a major step back for me, and the longer I sat here, the harder it was to pretend that didn’t matter.
He shuffled some papers on his desk, which I doubt had anything to do with this interview. “Are you comfortable with that? The long hours, three kids instead of one… I didn’t mention that in the ad, sorry.”
Yeah, he probably should’ve led with full disclosure.
And in the spirit of honesty, I replied, “If you’re asking whether I can manage your nieces and nephew, the answer is yes. It’s not about comfort. I can’t say this is where I planned to be at this point in my life, so…”
Shit. Maybe that was a little too honest.
His brows shot up in surprise. “And this is… what? Did you lose a bet?”
It was so left-field, my laugh bubbled out before I could hold it back. “With destiny, maybe.”
“What about first aid?” Eyes the color of a looming storm, amusement flashed bright in them.
“My certification is attached,” I replied. “Along with a copy of my degree and other courses I’ve completed in education and childhood development.”
“Look, I know you’re over-qualified for this—” So he had read my resume. “—but to be honest, you’re the only one who applied, and we could really use the help. Between myself and my business partners, there’s no way we’ll survive wrangling the kids on top of the holiday season.”
I was momentarily stunned. He’d acknowledged that I was more than capable.
He had also been straight about the real reason I was here.
Somehow it made all of this feel less… soul-crushing.
Maybe it was him. Maybe it was the cute kids.
But the tight knot of dread at the back of my skull softened just a smidge.
“So, does that make you Tom Selleck?”
“Excuse me?” His eyebrows knit together, and I winced inwardly.
“Nothing,” I said, waving away my stupid joke. “My ex-roommate liked old ‘80s movies.” (God, I sure was racking up those exes).
The cloud of confusion opened into a wide smile, and he said, “Oh, right. Three Men and a Baby.”
“Three babies, in your case.”
“I guess so.” Relief smoothed the edges of his light laugh. “And I’m hoping you’ll seriously consider the position.”
My hesitation leaned more and more toward accepting the job offer, but right before I could say anything, a loud crash rang through the house. The girls’ shrill laughter and screaming followed, punctuated with the pounding of their little feet zooming around.
I met Ethan’s gaze, which instantly turned urgent. “Fifty-thousand a week.”
“What?” I blurted out, barely able to contain my shocked laugh. I couldn’t tell which one of us had just suffered a mild stroke.
“You heard me.” He pulled out his check book and scribbled the first fifty to show he meant what he’d said. “I’ll add a generous bonus for anything over and above the regular duties.”
Fifty-thousand dollars a week? Talk about the miracle that would solve all my problems. I wouldn’t even need a bonus.
My resistance started to dissolve exponentially, and Liv’s voice in my head helped it along. This was just a detour.
I couldn’t wait to tell her how this random detour would end up being so much more than a roof over my head.
“I’ll take it,” I said, and rose from my chair, hand outstretched.
Ethan stood up and shook it. “Can you start immediately?”
“Of course.” We moved toward the door to his office, him falling easily in step beside me. “I’ll be here first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Um, that’s not what I meant.”
I gave him a puzzled smile as I opened the door, but didn’t get to ask for an explanation. Because the tug of war anchor was standing there, looking ridiculous with a green sucker dangling from his hair. In the background, the girls’ laughter and shrieking was still going strong.
“For the love of God, don’t go,” he said, desperate urgency swimming in his deep brown eyes.