Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
HAYDEN
My alarm goes off in the dark, shrill and unforgiving. And entirely too early for my liking, especially after barely sleeping all night.
I scrub a hand over my face and stare at the ceiling. The house is quiet, wrapped in peaceful stillness. I used to love this time of day. It felt controlled. Predictable.
Now it feels like a countdown.
I’ve been dreading this morning since yesterday. Hell, since Saturday night when I made the colossal mistake of kissing Rowan.
Granted, I saw her yesterday, but there were other people at my mom’s house. Noise. Distractions.
Today there’s no buffer.
Nothing to distract me from what happened between us.
I swing my legs over the side of my bed and sit there for a moment, elbows braced on my knees.
For half a second, I toy with the idea of firing her. Telling her it’s not working out.
But on what grounds?
Because I kissed her and can’t stop thinking about it?
I doubt that would go over well.
Plus, she’s damn good with the kids. Better than good. She’s nurturing and patient in a way my kids haven’t had in a long time.
Not since they lost their mother.
That’s what matters.
That’s all that should matter.
It doesn’t stop me from remembering the way Rowan felt against me. The way her breath caught when I deepened the kiss. The way her fingers fisted in my shirt.
I quickly shut down the thought and jump to my feet, heading for the shower.
By the time I make my way downstairs, the house smells like pancakes and coffee.
Presley is at the table, her tongue peeking out in concentration as she colors something in her sketchpad. Jemmy is in his high chair, banging a plastic spoon against the tray in an uneven rhythm, singing along to whatever song is in his head.
Rowan is at the stove, her hair pulled up, a soft white sweater slipping off one shoulder, revealing her smooth skin. She flips a pancake with easy precision, then glances my way.
“Morning.” Her tone isn’t cold. But it’s not warm, either.
It’s more polite. Professional. As if reminding me of what our relationship is supposed to be.
“Morning,” I reply, already moving toward the coffee maker.
Normally, I have no problem striking up a conversation with her. I’d ask her how she slept and what her plans were for the day.
I don’t today, trying to keep our interactions to a minimum. All because I don’t trust myself after that kiss.
And how I can’t stop thinking about it. How I can’t stop thinking about pinning her against the wall and tasting her again.
But this time, not stopping.
“Is that okay with you?” Her voice cuts through my thoughts.
I look her way, wondering how long I’ve been staring at my coffee mug.
“I’m sorry. What?”
“I was just saying I’m going to take Jemmy to the library for story time this morning. I wanted to make sure it was okay with you.”
“Right.” I shake off the fog and bring my coffee to my lips. “Yeah. That’s fine.”
“Thanks.”
I turn from her and head to the table, like I usually do.
And like she usually does, she slides a plate full of pancakes in front of Presley before placing one in front of me containing eggs, toast, and sliced fruit.
But instead of joining us, she heads back to the sink, cleaning the dirty pans and bowls.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” I ask, placing a napkin in my lap.
“I already did. You guys enjoy some time together before work and school.” She gives me a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
Then she slips out of the kitchen.
The air instantly shifts. Like something essential has been removed.
I look down at my plate, then back toward the living room where she’s picking up the toys I never got to last night. She moves efficiently. Quietly. Like she’s trying not to take up space.
When I turn back, Presley is staring at me with something that looks a lot like accusation. As if she knows I somehow fucked up.
I did, but I’m not about to get into the details with my seven year old.
“Looking forward to school?” I ask her, clearing my throat.
She narrows her eyes, giving me pure attitude.
God help me when she’s thirteen.
Sensing I won’t get much response from her right now, I shift my focus to Jemmy. “Excited about story time?”
He points to Rowan’s empty chair.
“Ro-Ro.”
“Yeah. She’s taking you to the library.”
“No. Ro-Ro.”
“She already ate, bud.”
“Ro-Ro.”
I drag a hand down my face and mutter under my breath, “I’m just batting a thousand today.”
Presley snorts.
Not the reaction I was hoping for, but at this point I’ll take it.
I slice into my eggs and eat faster than I usually do, just so this awkward breakfast can be over.
When I finish, I take Jemmy out of his high chair and set his feet on the floor. The instant I do, he takes off into the living room, toddling toward the bin full of toys Rowan just picked up, dumping them out.
“Bud, Ro-Ro just cleaned all those up.”
“It’s okay,” she assures him with a smile. “I knew that would happen. But sometimes it’s best to start with a clean slate.”
“I suppose,” I murmur. “Are you okay for a minute while I brush my teeth?”
“Of course.” She waves me off, and I head upstairs.
When I come back down, I find her by the kitchen island, zipping up Presley’s lunch bag while the kids play in the living room.
“You can eat breakfast with us,” I say quietly. “And dinner. You may be their nanny, but—”
“You need time with them without me,” she cuts in, her voice low enough that the kids won’t hear. “The last few weeks… Some lines got blurred. I think it’s important we re-establish boundaries.”
The word sits between us like a wall. Boundaries. I know we need them. But it still stings to hear her say it.
“This will remind them I’m just their nanny,” she adds. “I adore them. But I won’t be here forever.”
She says it so matter-of-factly, and something in my chest tightens, much to my surprise.
When I hired her, I knew she wouldn’t stay forever. But in the short time she’s been here, I’ve gotten used to her smile. Her laughter. Her excitement.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe the best thing right now is to re-establish boundaries.
Start with a clean slate… Like Jemmy’s toys.
“I understand. It’s probably for the best.”
She lifts her chin. “It is.”
I hold her gaze for a beat, wanting to say something. But what?
That I don’t want to re-establish boundaries?
That her kiss sparked something inside me and I want more?
That I saw Joshua drive her home last night?
That I watched from the window like some jealous teenager?
That I want to know if he got to brush his mouth against her skin?
If she smiled at him the way she used to smile at me?
That I hate how much the thought bothers me?
That I don’t want anyone else touching her?
But I don’t say any of that.
Because that would cross a boundary we’re supposedly redrawing.
“Presley. Time to go,” I call out, heading toward the mudroom.
She jumps up from where she was playing with Jemmy and hurries toward me. I hold her coat out for her, and she slides into it. Rowan joins us, helping her with her gloves and scarf before pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.
“Have a great day at school.”
Presley beams up at her.
It’s simple.
Innocent.
And it hits me harder than anything else this morning.
There will come a day when Rowan won’t be standing in this entryway.
Jemmy will adapt. He always does.
But Presley feels everything like it’s magnified. Since the accident, it’s like her heart is wired closer to the surface.
She’ll be devastated when Rowan leaves, and I’ll have to watch it happen.
Which is exactly why the best thing I can do — for my kids, for her, for myself — is to put space between us.
Redraw the lines.
Remind myself who she is.
Just the nanny.
Not the woman whose kiss still burns on my mouth.
Not the woman I lie awake thinking about.
Just. The. Nanny.