Chapter 12
Chloe
“Wait, you’re still doing the nanny thing?”
I look up from my latte to find Jessica —my old high school lab partner— staring at me with something between confusion and pity. We’re at Cupid’s Brew, catching up after running into each other at the grocery store, and I’m already regretting accepting this coffee invitation.
“Yes, but,” I say carefully. “It’s actually going really well.” I don’t want to let all of the details out. Jessica was never known for having discretion.
“But what about teaching? I thought that was your dream.” Jessica leans forward, lowering her voice like she’s about to share a secret. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up on that.”
“I’m not giving up. I’m substituting at Valentine Elementary, and there’s a permanent position opening up in the fall—”
“So you’re just... waiting? Playing house with someone else’s kids until something better comes along?” Every emphasis is harsh and sounds like judgement.
Hell, it is judgement. Why I thought she maybe changed?
And unfortunately, the words hit harder than they should. “It’s not like that.”
Definitely not.
I spent the night rolling around a bed with the man I live with.
She definitely doesn’t need to know that.
“Isn’t it though?” Jessica sits back, sipping her coffee. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s nice that you’re helping out this guy or whatever. But it’s not your family, Chloe. You’re putting your entire life on hold for someone else’s situation.”
“I’m not putting my life on hold.” But even as I say it, something uncomfortable twists in my chest. “I’m living my life. This is my life.”
We love each other.
“Come on. You’re twenty-seven years old, living in your hometown, taking care of someone else’s children.
That’s not a life— that’s a placeholder.
” Jessica’s tone is gentle, but it doesn’t make the words sting less.
“What happens when this guy decides to hire a permanent nanny? Or when he meets someone he actually wants to be with long-term? You’ll be right back where you started, except you’ve wasted months —or years— being the help. ”
What the hell? I’m not the help. We have something… special. My heart clips along faster.
“Jessica—”
“I’m just saying, you had so many plans. Remember? You were going to teach in a big city, travel on your summers off, get your master’s degree and move into administration. Now you’re... what? Making breakfasts and doing laundry for someone else’s kids?”
My hands tighten around my cup. “It’s not ‘just’ anything. I’m helping a family. And I love those girls.”
“I’m sure you do. But they’re not your girls, are they?” Jessica checks her phone, oblivious to the way her words are carving into me. “Look, I have to run, but seriously— think about what you’re doing. You’re way too smart to be someone’s nanny forever. Or at least you were.”
She leaves, and I sit there staring at my half-finished latte, her words echoing in my head.
Not your family.
Putting your life on hold.
Someone’s nanny.
Too smart…
But she’s wrong. Right?
Ava and Mia love me. I’m not just the help. And Jonah and I have been connecting. But is it just sex? Is it more? I’m so confused.
And maybe there’s a grain of truth buried in Jessica’s judgment, and it burrows under my skin like a splinter.
I’m not their mother. I’m not Jonah’s wife. I have no legal claim to any of them, no real security beyond Jonah’s word that I can stay.
And what if that changes?
My phone buzzes. An email notification.
I almost don’t open it, but something makes me click.
Subject: Re: Teaching Position Application - Missoula School District
My heart jumps. I applied for this position three weeks ago— fourth grade, good salary, benefits. It would mean leaving Valentine, leaving Jonah and the twins, but I told myself it was just a backup plan. Just in case.
I open the email.
Dear Ms. Reeves,
Thank you for your interest in the fourth-grade teaching position at Roosevelt Elementary. After careful consideration, we have decided to move forward with other candidates whose qualifications more closely match our current needs...
I don’t read the rest.
I set my phone down, face-up on the table, and stare at the rejection.
Another rejection. I should be used to them. And I have the substitute position at Valentine Elementary. And there’s the possibility of a permanent job in the fall.
But possibility isn’t certainty.
Jessica’s voice echoes in my head: You’re putting your life on hold.
No. No, I’m not. I’m building a life here. I have… What?
Except I haven’t even told Jonah I’m still applying to other schools. Haven’t mentioned that part of me is still keeping one foot out the door, just in case.
Just in case what? In case he changes his mind? In case this falls apart?
I gather my things and leave the coffee shop, driving home on autopilot. Home.
When did I start thinking of the Westerland house as home?
The realization makes my chest tight.
Carol’s car is in the driveway when I pull up— she must be watching the twins while Jonah finishes at the bakery. I sit in my car for a moment, trying to compose myself, trying to shake off Jessica’s words and the rejection email and the growing sense of unease in my gut.
Then I hear it. Through my closed car window, I hear Ava’s voice, high and excited: “Chloe’s here! Chloe’s here!”
The front door bursts open, and both twins come running down the driveway in their socks, no coats, Carol chasing after them with jackets in her hands.
“Girls, it’s freezing! You can’t—” Carol calls, but they’re already at my car door.
I get out, and Ava crashes into me, wrapping her arms around my waist.
“You’re home!” she says. “We made you a picture at school today. It’s on the fridge. Come see!”
Mia grabs my hand, tugging. “And Daddy said we can make cookies if you help us. Can we? Please?”
I look down at their faces, so open, so trusting, so full of love, and something in my chest cracks.
Not your family, Jessica said.
But they feel like my family. They feel like mine.
And maybe that’s the problem. I’ve fallen for all of them. I’ve opened myself quickly and without thought.
What happens if Jonah wakes up one day and realizes I’m not what he wants long-term? What happens if the twins’ mother comes back and wants to be involved? What happens if I’m just a temporary placeholder until he finds someone better, someone who fits more easily into his life?
“Chloe?” Ava’s looking up at me with concern. “Are you sad?”
“No, sweetheart.” I force a smile, crouching down to hug them both. “I’m happy. I’m always happy when I come home to you.”
Carol catches my eye over their heads, and there’s understanding there. Like she can see right through me.
“Girls, go inside and wash your hands,” she says gently. “I’ll help you get the cookie ingredients out.”
They run back inside, and Carol walks over to me, her expression soft.
“Want to talk about it?” she asks.
“About what?”
“Whatever’s making you look like you’re about to run.” She touches my arm. “Chloe, honey, I’ve seen that look before. On Jonah’s face, right before Rachel left. That ‘I don’t deserve this’ look.”
“I’m not leaving,” I say automatically.
“But you’re thinking about it.” It’s not a question. “Or at least, you’re wondering if you should be. My Jonah, he loves you, Chloe.”
I still.
I look away, blinking back tears. “I ran into someone today. An old friend. She made me realize how... precarious this all is. I’m not the girls’ mother. I’m definitely not Jonah’s wife. I’m just—”
“You’re just the woman my son loves,” Carol interrupts firmly. “The woman his daughters adore. The woman who makes this family complete.” She steps closer. “But you’re cautious, maybe scared. I get it. Jonah was scared too, for a long time. Still is, some days.”
“What if it’s not enough?” The words come out small, broken. “What if I’m not enough?”
I wasn’t for Derek. He moved on… fast.
“What if you are?” Carol counters. “What if you stop waiting for the other shoe to drop and just trust that you deserve this?”
I want to believe her. God, I want to believe her so badly.
But as I walk inside and watch the twins show me their picture— a crayon drawing of four stick figures labeled “Daddy,” “Chloe,” “Ava,” and “Mia”— all I can think is: This isn’t permanent. Nothing’s permanent.
And maybe I need to start protecting my heart before it’s too late.