Chapter 9 Patience
Chapter Nine
PATIENCE
Jessa
All day yesterday, while I’d been curled up in Griffin’s guest room fighting off chills and a fever, packages had arrived.
Soup—three kinds, like he couldn’t decide which would help most. Hardcover books.
Tissues. Flowers and a blanket so soft I’d buried my face in it and almost cried.
Pajamas that fit perfectly, a robe that made me feel like I was wrapped in a cloud.
A brand-new phone on his plan, because my flip phone was “unacceptable for an employee of West Games.”
Employee. Right. That’s all he saw me as right now. But employees didn’t get flowers. Didn’t get their boss checking in via text every two hours. Or a doctor making a house call just to confirm it was only a cold.
The look on Griffin’s face when he found me sleeping in his car—I’d never forget the fury there, raw and protective.
It had stolen my breath. He could have fired me and sent me back to Holly Creek.
Instead, he’d wrapped his coat around my shoulders, brought me home, and settled me in a guest room that was bigger than my entire house.
“I take care of what’s mine,” he’d said.
Mine.
Only he didn’t mean it the way I wanted him to. It was Griffin being the CEO and managing his assets. But assets wouldn’t normally get his personal attention. I read too much into it, making something out of nothing because I wanted him so badly.
If I kept showing up, being good with Theo, kept proving I belonged here, he’d see the real me. Not as the bartender from Holly Creek or the nanny he’d hired in desperation, but as the woman he’d held that night at the lake. The one he’d whispered to in the dark, the one he couldn’t quite forget.
If I kept showing up, I could make him fall for me—or break my own heart trying.
The thought hit me with equal parts hope and terror. But I was already halfway there myself, wasn’t I? Already imagining a life where this was real. Where Theo was mine and Griffin was mine and we had this baby together, and I got to keep this impossible dream as my new reality.
Patience, Jessa. Keep going, find the right moment to tell him about the baby, and everything will fall into place. I pressed a hand to my still-flat stomach. About eight weeks now. The secret felt heavier every day, like a stone I carried around, waiting for the right moment to set it down.
When I walked out of the guest bedroom, the place was silent. No Griffin barking orders into his phone, no Theo with excited chatter about hockey stats. Just expensive emptiness and the hum of the city forty floors below.
Disappointment pricked at me—part of me had hoped Griffin would be here, asked how I was feeling, shared coffee and talked about something other than Theo’s schedule. A moment where I could finally find the courage to tell him about the baby.
There was never a right moment in his fast-paced world, though. Griffin lived in his office, worked through dinners, and checked his phone during conversations. When would there be time for “Hey, remember that night at the lake? Well, funny story...”
A note sat on the kitchen counter in Griffin’s sharp, precise handwriting:
Early meeting. Brock will take you and Theo to school. — G.
No “Good morning.” No “Hope you’re feeling better.” Just orders.
I crumpled the note and tossed it in the trash, irritation flaring. This was my life now, living in his world but invisible in it? The nanny. The help. Not the woman he’d once whispered promises to in the dark.
“Morning, Jessa!” Theo bounded into the kitchen, backpack bouncing, hair sticking up in three directions. “If you’re all better, are you coming to my game Friday?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Come here; let me fix your hair. Don’t want a single strand out of place when Annie waves at you this morning.” I teased and fingered through it.
“I wish she wouldn’t. It’s weird, her being Mitch’s sister and all.”
“Years from now, you might feel differently. Are you hungry? I can make pancakes.”
“Dad already made me oatmeal with berries.” He wrinkled his nose. “He says it’s healthy.”
“How tragic. Remind me to smuggle in a box of Cocoa Puffs sometime.”
He grinned, and for a second, I saw Griffin in him—only there was mischief hiding there. Such a sweet kid, and too easy to fall for.
We put on our coats and headed downstairs. McDaniels held the door open for us, with a tip of his cap. “Have a nice day, Theo. Miss Jessa.”
“You, too.” I winked at him.
Brock waited at the curb, engine idling, wearing his usual expression of silent judgment.
“Morning, Brock,” I called sweetly.
He grunted, every day the same.
Theo climbed into the backseat, and I followed. It wasn’t until we pulled into the school drop-off line that he suddenly shot upright on a gasp, eyes wide.
“I forgot the permission slip!”
“What slip?” Griffin must have gone over school things last night while I rested. What was missed?
“For the museum trip next week. It’s due this morning or I can’t go.” His voice rose, panic setting in. “Dad was supposed to sign it last night. It’s probably on his desk. Now I’m going to miss the whole trip, and I’ll miss out on seeing the mummies and dinosaurs and—”
“Hey.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “Take a breath. We’ll figure it out.”
“You don’t understand!” His fists clenched, jaw tight—mini-Griffin in full meltdown mode. “If I don’t turn it in, I have to stay in the office all day while everyone else goes. Mrs. Callahan will think I’m irresponsible, and—”
“Theo. Shh.” I waited until he looked at me. “You’re not irresponsible. Your dad forgot. That’s on him, not you. And guess what? I can fix this.”
“How?” His brow slowly unfurled.
“I’ll go back, grab the slip, and bring it to the school office before lunch. Problem solved.”
He blinked, uncertainty flickering across his face. “You’d do that?”
“Absolutely. You think I’m going to let you miss dinosaurs and mummies because your dad’s brain lives in spreadsheets?”
A laugh burst out of him, surprised and genuine. The tension melted from his shoulders.
“Thanks, Jessa.”
“Anytime, kiddo.”
Brock caught my eye in the rearview mirror. For once, his expression wasn’t stone. Almost… approving?
We dropped Theo at school, I saw him off, and then hopped back in the SUV. “Back to the penthouse, please. I need to grab that permission slip.”
Brock pulled into traffic without a word. I wondered if I’d missed another rule, something ridiculous like, “If Theo forgets something, don’t retrieve it. It teaches him a lesson.”
When we pulled up at West Tower, Brock’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, frowning. “Mr. West texted. I have to pick him up from a meeting across town. Can you handle getting the slip to the school on your own?”
“Absolutely. I can walk.”
“Use the company card and hire a ride share.” He handed me a sleek black credit card with West Games embossed in gold. “For Theo-related expenses.”
I stared at it. “You’re trusting me with this?”
“Mr. West trusts you. That’s enough.” He pulled away before I could respond, leaving me standing on the curb holding more spending power than I’d seen in my entire life.
The weight of the card in my palm felt surreal. Two days ago, I’d been sleeping in my car, counting quarters for coffee. Now I held a black card with unlimited access to Griffin West’s empire.
It should have felt like winning. Instead, it felt like borrowing someone else’s life.
I thought of Mom back in Holly Creek, working herself to the bone at the diner until her accident years prior. Or of my sisters sharing a bedroom while I slept on the couch. And every time I’d said “I’m fine” when someone asked, even when my family was drowning in bills and debt.
Griffin had no idea what it meant to struggle. To choose between gas and groceries. To lie awake calculating which bill could wait another week.
Now I had a key to his lavish home, an expensive phone on his plan, and a black card with the company name on it.
He’d wrapped his coat around me on the street.
Sent flowers when I was sick. Bought me pajamas soft enough to make me cry.
Each step deeper into his world felt like crossing a line I couldn’t uncross.
Like I was playing dress-up in a life that could never possibly be mine.
And I had a baby secret that could potentially strip me of all of it if he wanted nothing to do with us.
McDaniels held the door open for me, tipping his cap again. “Beautiful fall day, Miss Jessa.”
“It is. Do you have kids, McD?” I took liberties to call him that. He didn’t seem to mind.
“Three of them. All grown now, living their own lives. And one grandchild on the way.”
“How sweet. I have to grab Theo’s permission slip that he forgot.” I pointed up as if I needed to explain my reason for intruding. “Kids, right?”
“Always something.”
I rode the elevator to the penthouse. The permission slip sat exactly where Theo said it would: on Griffin’s massive desk in his home office, and signed, thank goodness. Figures—he signed it and forgot to put it in the backpack. I grabbed it, and my gaze stuttered on the space.
The leather chair still held the indent of his body. His smoky cedar cologne lingered in the air, the expensive kind that attached itself to my memories of our night in Holly Creek.
I remembered the way he’d looked at me then. Like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. Like money and status and control had fallen away, leaving just a man who desired me.
Had I imagined it? Made it into something it wasn’t because I’d never had a man look at me like that before?
My hand drifted to my stomach again. This baby was real. The night we’d made it was real. But everything since felt like a fever dream—me in his world, pretending I belonged, waiting for the moment it all came crashing down.
A knock came at the front door of the penthouse. I spun around, heart jumping.
When I answered, a woman stood there—probably mid-thirties, sleek blonde bob, Chanel suit that cost more than my car. She looked like she’d walked straight out of a board meeting and into my life to ruin it.
Her sharp gaze landed on me when I opened the door. “Who are you?”
“Uh… the nanny.”
“Of course.” She rolled her eyes and held out a leather folder, expression icy.
“Sam had these sent over to me last night. I’ve known these men for years, and I cannot believe the audacity of them.
I’m Sabine, and I’d appreciate it if you could tell Griffin there is absolutely no way I’d agree to any of it. ”
She huffed, turned on her designer heel, and stepped back into the elevator. I stood there holding the folder like it might explode.
The doors closed.
What could get a woman like that so upset? I stared at the embossed West Games logo on the cover of the folder.
Don’t look, Jessa. It’s none of your business.
But I was suddenly driven by the same instinct that had kept me alive in Holly Creek, the one that whispered when things were too good to be true. Because they always were.
I’d learned that lesson early. Men who promised to stay left. Jobs that seemed stable vanished. Fairytales were for other girls who grew up in grand houses, who didn’t have to raise their sisters or work double shifts or sleep in cars. Girls who belonged.
I took the folder back to his desk, and oops—it fell open. Like any other nanny, what could I do but take a seat and check to make sure not a single page had fallen out. That’s what a good little employee would do, right?
I wasn’t prepared for what I found.
*Marriage of Convenience Agreement between Griffin West and ____________*
The blank space where a name should be mocked me, waiting for someone else’s, not mine.
Pages of legal gibberish unfolded. Aside from that, it contained a list of marriage rules that read as though they were written in 1952. Also, a prenuptial agreement with a compensation amount that had so many zeroes I had to count twice.
I sank into his obscenely expensive desk chair that smelled of his cologne and the finest leather, with the folder open in front of me, the permission slip forgotten on the floor.
He was looking for a wife—a contract wife. Someone to play the role, smile for the cameras, and collect a paycheck at the end. All for show. And it wasn’t me.
My hand drifted to my stomach, hiding the secret I’d come here to tell him. The baby I thought might change everything.
God, I was an idiot.
The dreamer in me had run wild, believing I was building something real here.
That Theo’s laughter and Griffin’s rare smiles and the way he’d held me when I was sick meant I was carving out a place in their lives and hearts.
That maybe, when I finally told him about the baby, he’d want us both, admit his feelings for me, and I’d become more than the nanny.
I’d taken too long to tell him—I knew that. But every day moved so fast in his world, and I kept waiting for the moment when he’d look at me the way he had at the lake. Only then would I feel brave enough to risk everything.
I’d been mothering my whole life—Pauline and Charlene, Mom after her accident, even the regulars at the bar who needed someone to listen.
Maybe that’s why Theo already felt like mine.
Why this penthouse had started to feel like home instead of a museum.
Because it needed a motherly touch. I was good at making a home out of nothing.
At finding family in the broken and missing pieces.
But this was the truth staring me in the face, printed in legal terms I couldn’t have misunderstood.
Clearly, Griffin didn’t want a partner. He wanted a business arrangement. A prop who was polished and poised, who fit into his world without disrupting it. Someone who could be bought.
Not a broke bartender from Holly Creek who slept in her car and got knocked up after one night.