Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
AUbrEY
Monday mornings used to start with a cup of coffee, my laptop open to a half-dozen job sites, and the unrealistic hope that, overnight, someone had finally decided to email me back.
This Monday starts with me warming a bottle while a two-month-old watches me from her bouncer with wide blue eyes.
I’d call that an upgrade.
“Good morning, Miss Liana,” I say as I test a few drops of formula against the inside of my wrist. “Ready for breakfast?”
Her little legs kick excitedly.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
By the time Dean walks into the kitchen, dressed in a charcoal suit with his untied tie hanging around his neck, Liana has finished half her bottle.
He looks more like the Dean Ledger I remember seeing on magazine covers.
Almost.
The dark circles beneath his eyes haven’t completely disappeared, and there’s still a weariness in his expression that expensive suits can’t hide.
“Morning,” he says, crossing the kitchen toward the coffee maker.
“Morning.”
The machine hums to life while he loosens his shoulders with a quiet sigh. He wraps both hands around his coffee mug like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.
“You don’t have to stay trapped in here all day,” he says after a moment. “And feel free to make yourself at home here.”
I smile. “I’ll try not to rearrange your kitchen.”
“I’ll survive.”
A comfortable silence settles between us. Dean takes a long drink of his coffee before checking the time on his watch.
“I’ll probably be home around five thirty.”
“I’ll text you if anything comes up.”
He nods once. “She usually gets fussy around four.”
“I remember.”
His eyes meet mine for a second. Long enough that something flips in my stomach. Then he looks away just as quickly, reaching for his briefcase.
Don’t be ridiculous.
He was making sure I was listening. That’s all.
I spent years inventing reasons why Dean Ledger looked in my direction.
I’m not about to start doing that again.
He bends down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Liana’s head.
“I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.”
She reaches one tiny hand toward his tie, and he chuckles, carefully untangling her fingers.
“I know. I’d rather stay too.” When he straightens, his gaze briefly finds mine again. “Thanks, Aubrey.”
The front door clicks shut behind him, leaving the apartment strangely quiet.
I look down at Liana. “Well,”—I smile— “looks like it’s just us today.”
By the time Liana goes down for her morning nap, I’ve unpacked another suitcase, started a load of laundry, and somehow convinced myself I know exactly what I’m doing.
My phone buzzes across the kitchen island. Sydney’s name appears on the screen.
I answer before the second ring.
“So,” she says without so much as a hello, “are you officially a New Yorker now?”
I laugh, leaning against the island. “I’ve been here for three whole days.”
“Ooh. Listen to you.”
“I even figured out how to use his fancy coffee machine.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“You should be. It came with instructions.”
Sydney laughs. “So”—I can practically hear the grin in her voice— “how’s life in billionaire land?”
I glance around the kitchen.
Sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, reflecting off marble countertops that probably cost more than my first car.
“It’s … surreal.”
“That’s one word for it.”
“I still can’t believe I’m living here.”
“Correction.” She pauses dramatically. “You’re living in Manhattan with a billionaire.”
I shake my head. “When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”
“Because it is ridiculous.” She lets out an excited squeal. “And not just any billionaire.”
I already know where this is going. “Sydney …”
“Your teenage crush.”
I groan, dropping my forehead against one of the upper cabinets. “I was hoping we’d leave him in high school.”
“No chance.”
“I was fifteen.”
“And … now you’re not.”
I laugh despite myself. She always knows exactly how to make me laugh.
“So?” she asks.
I push away from the cabinet and wander toward the windows overlooking the city. “He’s … different.”
“Different good or different bad?”
I think back to Saturday morning. Dean pacing the kitchen with Liana against his shoulder. The look on his face every time she cried. The relief that washed over him whenever she settled.
“Different human.”
Sydney goes quiet. “That’s not what I expected you to say.”
“I didn’t either.”
She waits patiently, knowing I’ll eventually fill the silence.
“The billionaire part disappears when he’s with Liana.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s just …” I smile to myself. “A dad.” The words feel strangely significant. “An exhausted, sleep-deprived dad who’s trying really hard.”
“And?”
I hesitate. “I think …” My fingers trace the edge of the kitchen island. “I caught him looking at me a couple of times.”
Sydney gasps dramatically. “I knew it!”
“I didn’t say he was checking me out.”
“What else would he be looking at?”
“I don’t know.” I laugh. “Maybe he was wondering what the hell he was thinking, hiring a college grad who wanted a job in graphic design to be his live-in nanny.”
“Or”—she drags the word out— “he was checking you out.”
I roll my eyes even though she can’t see me. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re avoiding the question.”
I glance toward the nursery, where Liana is sleeping peacefully.
“I honestly don’t know.”
Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I didn’t. Either way … I’m here for one reason. To help take care of that little girl.
Everything else is just noise.
I’m sitting on the couch with Liana against my shoulder, gently patting her back while I wait for a burp, when I hear the private elevator doors slide open.
My stomach does an embarrassing little flutter.
Ugh, I should have never had that conversation with Sydney today. One conversation about my teenage crush, and suddenly, I’m hyperaware of his presence.
I shift my attention back to the tiny baby resting against me, smiling as she lets out the tiniest contented sigh.
Footsteps echo against the hardwood floor.
I glance up, which proves to be a big mistake.
Dean strolls into the family room, tossing his suit jacket over the back of a chair.
His white dress shirt is wrinkled from a long day, the sleeves rolled to his forearms, and his navy tie hangs loose around his neck, as though he gave up trying to look put together hours ago.
The top few buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing just enough of his chest that my brain decides now is an excellent time to completely abandon me.
I tear my eyes away before he catches me staring.
“How was your first day?” he asks as he makes his way toward the couch, loosening his tie the rest of the way and pulling it free from his collar.
Before I can answer, Liana lets out a loud, surprisingly impressive belch against my shoulder.
Dean and I both laugh.
“Well,” I say, looking down at her, “I think that’s our cue.”
He holds out his arms without hesitation. “I’ve got her.”
I carefully transfer Liana into his embrace, making sure her head is supported before letting go. The second she’s settled against his chest, Dean instinctively presses a kiss to the top of her forehead.
It’s such an automatic gesture that I don’t think he even realizes he did it.
Just two weeks ago, he didn’t know she existed. Watching the way he looks at her makes something warm settle in my chest.
He’s completely smitten with his daughter.
I stand and smooth the wrinkles from the front of my T-shirt.
“It was great. We did some tummy time this afternoon, which she actually did really well with. She got lots of snuggles, took a few good naps, and”—I smile at Liana— “she discovered she likes ceiling fans.”
Dean’s eyebrows pull together. “Ceiling fans?”
I laugh. “I know. Apparently, babies are fascinated by them.”
He glances up at the one spinning lazily above us before looking back down at Liana. “Good to know.”
A small smile tugs at his mouth. “We’ll have to circle back to whatever tummy time is, but I’m glad it went well.”
I can’t help smiling. “It’s exactly what it sounds like. You lay her on her stomach while she’s awake so she can build up her neck and shoulder muscles.”
He nods slowly, committing the information to memory. “I’ve got a lot to learn.”
His honesty catches me off guard.
“So does every new parent,” I say gently.
He looks up at me, the exhaustion still lingering in his blue eyes despite the smile on his face.
“Yeah,” he says quietly, “I guess that’s true.”
“Well,”—I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear— “I’ll let you two have your evening.”
Dean looks up. “What do you mean?”
“I figured I’d stay out of your way.” I gesture toward the hallway. “You’re home now.”
“Ah, okay. Just to confirm, you’re off the clock.” He adjusts Liana a little higher against his shoulder. “Feel free to go out or whatever when I’m home.” His tone is gentle but matter of fact when he says, “When I’m home, she’s my responsibility.”
I blink. “I don’t mind helping if you need me.”
“I know.” A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “And I’ll probably take you up on that more than I’d like to admit. But I don’t expect you to spend every waking hour taking care of her.”
He nods toward the hallway leading to my bedroom. “This is your home now too. If you want to read a book, watch TV, go meet a friend for dinner, or just lock yourself in your room and pretend neither of us exists for a while”—he shrugs— “that’s your time.”
For some reason, I didn’t expect that. “I appreciate it.”
He smiles. “You’ve earned a break.”
Liana lets out a tiny squeak, grabbing a fistful of his shirt.
Dean looks down at her with a grin. “I think somebody’s ready for some daddy time.”
I head down the hallway, quietly closing my bedroom door behind me.
The room is peaceful.
Sunlight has given way to the warm glow of the bedside lamps, and for the first time all day, the apartment feels completely still.
I kick off my sneakers and flop backward onto the bed without bothering to pull back the comforter. The mattress practically swallows me whole.
I stare up at the ceiling, letting out a long breath. I completely forgot how exhausting babies can be.