2. Joel
2
JOEL
The sound of Miles and Finn’s laughter echoes through the house as I sit at the kitchen table, flipping through charts on my tablet. It’s meant to be a moment of quiet productivity, but my focus keeps shifting to the woman in the other room. Lucy Harper.
She’s been here for less than a day, and already the house feels… lighter. Brighter. It’s her laugh, mostly. Or the way she talks to the boys, her voice a mix of playful teasing and genuine care. I can hear them now, her playful banter with Miles over whether superheroes eat vegetables. She’s a natural with them, and I’m already wondering how I managed before she arrived. The boys seem to really like her and I’m hoping it goes better than it has with previous nannies who seemed to take pleasure in scolding instead of embracing the boys exuberance.
“Joel?” Her voice pulls me from my thoughts. I glance up to find her leaning against the doorway, a faint smile playing on her lips. “You’ve been staring at that tablet for ten minutes. Are you sure you’re working and not just pretending so you can avoid the chaos in the other room?”
Caught. I set the tablet down and lean back in my chair. “You caught me. I’m contemplating my life choices.”
“That’s never a good sign,” she says, stepping into the kitchen. “Should I be worried?”
“Only if you plan to bolt before dinner. The boys are already getting attached to you.”
“And you?” she teases, her blue eyes sparkling. “Are you attached yet, Dr. Anderson?”
I’m not sure how to answer that. She’s joking, but there’s something beneath her tone that feels like a challenge. I decide to dodge. “Too soon to tell. You’re still on probation.”
“Fair enough,” she says with a laugh. “But if I pass, do I get a medal?”
“A lifetime supply of gummy bears,” I reply dryly, earning another laugh from her. It’s contagious, and I feel the corner of my mouth twitching up despite myself.
She’s trouble. I knew it the moment she stepped out of her car, her blonde hair catching the light like some kind of halo. Aiden’s warning rings in my ears, but it’s hard to remember why I agreed to his terms when she’s right here, making this house feel alive again.
The laughter from the other room spikes, followed by a loud crash. My instincts kick in, and I’m halfway out of my chair before Lucy waves me off. “I’ve got it,” she says, already heading toward the living room. Her confidence is baffling. She’s been here for less than twenty-four hours, yet she’s walking into the chaos like she’s done it a hundred times before.
I follow at a slower pace, curiosity getting the better of me. When I reach the doorway, I find her crouched next to Finn, who’s sitting amid a pile of wooden blocks. Miles stands nearby, looking sheepish.
“What happened here?” she asks, her tone calm but firm. Finn clutches his stuffed dinosaur tightly and looks down. Miles, ever the bold one, pipes up.
“It was a tower,” he says, gesturing to the scattered blocks. “I was making it taller, and Finn wanted to put the top piece on, but then he pushed too hard, and… boom.” He throws his hands in the air for emphasis.
Lucy glances at Finn. “Is that true?”
Finn nods, his eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to!”
“I know you didn’t,” she says, giving him a gentle hug. “But next time, maybe work together instead of rushing. Towers need teamwork—they only stand tall when everyone does their part.”
Miles furrows his brow. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Sure it does,” Lucy counters with a grin. “Now clean up this mess before dinner. Deal?”
“Deal,” the boys say in unison, already scrambling to gather the blocks. She stands and dusts off her hands, catching my eye. “Crisis averted.”
I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe. “You’re good at this.”
“Years of practice with my brother’s antics,” she says, flashing a grin. “Plus, kids are easy. Adults are the tricky ones.”
“Tricky how?” I ask, genuinely curious.
She shrugs, her smile fading slightly. “Kids say what they mean. Adults don’t. Everything with grown-ups feels like a game sometimes, and I was never particularly good at games.”
Her words linger in the air, and I want to ask more, but she turns away, her usual brightness slipping back into place. “Now, what’s for dinner, Dr. Anderson?”
“Spaghetti. A family favorite.” I say, deciding to let her deflection slide.
Her face lights up. “I’ll get the garlic bread started. You handle the sauce?”
For the next hour, we fall into an easy rhythm in the kitchen. The boys pop in and out, occasionally trying to sneak bites of bread or spoonfuls of sauce. Lucy keeps them in line with a mix of teasing and quick wit, and I can’t help but marvel at how seamlessly she’s fit into our lives.
By the time dinner is on the table, the boys are practically bouncing in their seats. Lucy sits across from me, her laughter mingling with theirs as she tells a story about the time her brother tried to build a treehouse and got stuck halfway up.
“Uncle Aiden was so mad,” she says, her blue eyes sparkling. “But he didn’t want to call for help, so he made me climb up and get him down.”
“You climbed a tree?” Miles asks, his fork halfway to his mouth.
“Of course,” Lucy says, puffing out her chest dramatically. “I’m a superhero. Didn’t you know?”
Finn giggles, and Miles looks impressed. I catch myself smiling and quickly focus on my plate. She’s making it too easy to forget the boundaries I promised Aiden I’d keep.
After dinner, the boys retreat upstairs to play, leaving Lucy and me to tackle the dishes. She hums softly as she scrubs a pot, the sound oddly soothing.
“You’ve got a knack for this,” I say, drying a plate.
“For washing dishes?” she teases.
“For making things feel… normal,” I admit. “It’s been a while since this house felt like a home.”
Her hands still for a moment, but she doesn’t look at me. “Well, I’m glad I can help. The boys are great. And you’re not so bad yourself, Dr. Anderson.”
It’s meant to be lighthearted, but there’s something in her tone that makes my chest tighten. I don’t trust myself to reply, so I focus on the task at hand. The silence between us feels heavier than it should, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s… something else.
By the time the kitchen is clean, I’m more conflicted than ever. When I told her that the house hadn’t felt like a home in a long time, I meant it. Ever since my wife, Lina died of cancer two years ago, it’s felt empty. Like I’ve been living through the motions but not really living. It’s so different with Lucy here. Aiden’s warning was clear, but staying indifferent feels impossible when she’s right here, lighting up the house with her laughter and turning my carefully ordered life upside down.
The hospital is chaos the next morning. A full moon or some other cosmic force has turned the ER into a madhouse, lots of need for an orthopedic surgeon, and I’m running on caffeine and adrenaline by the time my shift ends. I’m halfway to my car when I hear my name.
“Dr. Anderson! A word?”
I turn to find Dr. Rivkin, my esteemed colleague, and occasional thorn in my side, striding toward me. His expression is smug, which never bodes well.
“What is it, Rivkin?” I ask, already bracing myself.
“Just thought you should know there’s been some… chatter about your new living arrangement,” he says, his tone dripping with faux concern. “A young, attractive nanny moving in? You know how people love to talk.”
I clench my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm. “I’m not interested in gossip.”
“Of course not,” he says, his smile widening. “But appearances matter, especially for someone with aspirations like yours. Chief of Staff, wasn’t it?”
He walks away before I can respond, leaving a trail of insinuations in his wake. I’ve worked too hard to let petty rumors jeopardize my career, but Rivkin’s words stick with me as I drive home. By the time I pull into the driveway, an idea is forming.
Lucy’s in the kitchen when I walk in, chopping vegetables with Finn standing on a chair beside her, “helping.” She looks up as I enter, her smile easy and genuine. “Hey, you’re just in time. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Can we talk for a minute?” I ask, my tone more serious than I intend. Her smile falters slightly, and she nods.
“Finn, can you keep an eye on the carrots for me?” she says, setting the knife far from his reach. She follows me into the living room, her expression curious. “What’s up?”
I hesitate, unsure how to start. “I… ran into someone at the hospital today. They mentioned that there’s been some talk about you moving in.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Talk? What kind of talk?”
“Speculative,” I say carefully. “About our… relationship.”
Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away. “I see. And this bothers you?”
“Not exactly. But it could complicate things for me professionally.”
“Ah, so it’s about you,” she says, crossing her arms. There’s a teasing edge to her voice, but I can tell she’s waiting for me to get to the point.
“It’s about both of us,” I say. “And the boys. I was thinking… maybe we could redirect the narrative.”
“Redirect it how?”
“By pretending to be in a relationship,” I say, the words tumbling out faster than I expect. Her eyes widen, and I rush to explain. “Just for appearances. It would make things easier—for the hospital, for the neighbors. Everyone loves a happy story.”
She stares at me, her expression unreadable. “You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?”
“Yes. Temporarily. Until things settle down.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then she bursts out laughing. It’s not the reaction I expected, but it’s not entirely unwelcome. “Joel, that is… possibly the craziest idea I’ve ever heard. And I’ve heard some wild ones. You know Aiden will go ballistic.”
“So, is that a no?” I ask, fighting back a smile.
She tilts her head, studying me. “It’s a maybe. What exactly would this entail?”
“Nothing dramatic,” I say quickly. “Just a few public appearances. A community event or two. Enough to keep people from asking too many questions.”
Her lips twitch, and I can tell she’s enjoying this more than she’s letting on. “And what happens when the charade is over? Won’t that just fuel more gossip?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” I say, which earns me an eye roll.
“You’re lucky I like the boys,” she says finally. “And you. You’re not so bad, either.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
She grins, and for a moment, the world feels lighter. “This is going to be interesting, and you get to explain it to my overprotective brother.” she says, her tone almost mischievous.
A few days later, the first test of our newfound "relationship" arrives in the form of the Everwood Community Picnic. It’s a big deal—half the town shows up, and the other half talks about it for weeks afterward. The park is already bustling when we arrive, tables loaded with food and decorations strung between trees. A group of kids is running around with balloons, their laughter mixing with the faint strains of live music from the gazebo.
Lucy and I step out of the car together, the boys in tow. The moment my feet hit the ground; I feel every set of eyes in the park turn toward us. It’s like the air shifts, the usual chatter dimming to a murmur as people take us in.
Lucy, of course, handles it like a pro. She loops her arm through mine, her smile dazzling as she waves to the crowd. “You’re lucky I was born for the spotlight,” she whispers, her breath warm against my ear.
“Don’t get too used to it,” I laugh, but the truth is, her confidence is infectious. With her by my side, the whispers and stares don’t feel as heavy.
The boys, oblivious to the attention, race ahead to the bounce house, their excitement palpable. Lucy squeezes my arm gently. “Relax,” she says, her tone light. “It’s a picnic, not a trial.”
“Easy for you to say,” I mutter, but her teasing smile makes it impossible to stay tense.
We make our rounds, chatting with neighbors and colleagues. Lucy is effortlessly charming, seamlessly engaging with everyone we meet. She laughs at Mr. Cooper’s corny jokes, asks Mrs. Morales about her famous potato salad recipe, and even kneels down to compliment a little girl on her sparkly shoes. By the time we reach the food tables, it’s clear she’s already won over half the town.
Then there’s Mrs. Clarkson.
“Dr. Anderson. Miss Harper,” she says, her tone as sweet as curdled milk. Her eyes dart between us, lingering on Lucy’s arm still looped through mine. “What a surprise to see you both here… together.”
“Not much of a surprise, Mrs. Clarkson,” Lucy replies smoothly, her smile unwavering. “Joel mentioned how important this event is to the community. We couldn’t miss it.”
Mrs. Clarkson’s gaze narrows slightly. “How… admirable. Though I must say, it’s quite… unusual for a man like Dr. Anderson to have a nanny like you. They are usually older, unattractive.”
I open my mouth to respond, but Lucy beats me to it. “Oh, you’re absolutely right,” she says brightly. “I’m definitely not your typical nanny. I’m lots more fun.”
The sheer audacity of her response leaves Mrs. Clarkson momentarily speechless. I stifle a laugh as Lucy continues, “But then again, Joel and I aren’t exactly typical, are we?”
Mrs. Clarkson blinks, clearly unsure whether she’s been complimented or insulted. “I suppose not,” she says finally, her tone clipped.
“Well, it was lovely seeing you,” Lucy says, flashing one last dazzling smile before steering me away. As soon as we’re out of earshot, I let out a low chuckle.
“Lots more fun?” I echo, raising an eyebrow.
“Am I wrong?” she counters, her grin mischievous.
“Not at all,” I admit, shaking my head. “You handled that like a pro.”
She shrugs. “Mrs. Clarkson is harmless. Passive-aggressive, sure, but harmless. Plus, it was kind of fun throwing her off her game.”
By the time we leave the picnic, I’m exhausted but oddly content. The boys are dozing in the backseat, their faces sticky with remnants of cotton candy, and Lucy is buzzing with energy beside me.
“That was fun,” she says as we pile into the car. “I think we made quite the impression.”
“Not so sure it was the right kind of impression, but we definitely left one” I say, but her confident smile tells me she’s not worried.
As we drive home, the golden light of the setting sun streams through the car windows, casting a warm glow over everything. I glance at Lucy in the passenger seat, her blonde hair catching the light in a way that makes her look almost ethereal. She’s humming softly to herself, tapping her fingers against her leg in time with the music on the radio.
This was supposed to be a practical arrangement, a way to control the narrative and keep the gossip at bay. But the more time I spend with her, the more I’m starting to wonder if pretending is going to be harder than I thought.
Her presence is intoxicating in a way I didn’t anticipate. It’s not just her looks, though those are undeniably captivating. She’s an ex-model and absolutely gorgeous, but it’s something about the way she moves through the world, fearless and full of life, drawing people in with her warmth and humor. She makes it look easy, but I know better. There’s strength beneath her smile, a resilience I can’t help but admire.
We pull into the driveway, and I turn off the engine. Lucy looks over at me, her eyes bright despite the long day. “So, how did I do back there? Being your steady girl,” she says, her tone light but sincere.
“You clearly didn’t need any help from me,” I reply honestly. “You handled everything perfectly.”
Her smile softens, and for a moment, the air between us feels charged with something unspoken. I clear my throat and step out of the car, breaking the spell.
As we unload the boys and their collection of prizes from the day, I can’t shake the nagging thought that this arrangement, practical as it may be, is going to complicate things more than I anticipated. Lucy’s confident smile as we said goodbye to the crowd is etched in my mind, a reminder that this charade is just beginning. And if today was any indication, it’s going to be one hell of a ride.