4. Tristan
CHAPTER 4
TRISTAN
T ristan closed the door of his home office and sank into his desk chair. For practically the first time in three months, he could get some work done without one of the triplets needing him.
There was little time to savor his freedom, though. His computer was already sending him notifications that he was late for the all-hands meeting he was supposed to lead. Tristan clicked the link for the meeting, put on his noise-canceling headphones, and focused on the task at hand.
Part of him felt guilty for running off without properly talking to his new nanny. Ria, she’d said her name was. But Tristan had already been late to a meeting — a meeting he’d had to miss or cancel last-minute several times in the past three months, and he just hadn’t had time to talk to her. Plus, Ria was supposed to be the expert, wasn’t she? Surely she knew better than he did how to calm a crying child, make a meal the kids would actually eat, or head off a sibling argument.
Now, his new nanny could do her job (hopefully), and he could focus on his job. Anyway, he needed to make the most of the time she was here in case she quit within a few days, like the other nannies he’d employed.
That was another reason Tristan hadn’t stopped to chat. Getting to know Ria would probably be a waste of both their time, since she’d likely leave in a week or so, and he would be on his own with the triplets again.
“—and the merger is going well,” one of Tristan’s employees continued. He tuned back in to the meeting, tearing his thoughts away from the kids and his beautiful new nanny.
Because she was beautiful, wasn’t she? Even just a few moments by the door had been enough for him to see that. With her curly red hair and her green eyes, she looked like more like an Irish princess from a fairy tale than a dowdy nanny. A smattering of freckles across her pink cheeks and a bright smile made her look young. She’d been wearing a black T-shirt and blue jeans and carrying a suitcase — Tristan should have offered to take her suitcase. He hadn’t even shown her the room he’d prepared for her.
Well, it wouldn’t do anyone any good to regret his actions now. He needed to work.
The next few hours were spent attending meetings, reviewing documents, and wading through the pile of work that had been building up since the triplets arrived. Tristan barely stopped to drink water, let alone check on the new nanny and the kids. Around four in the afternoon, he sat back in his desk chair, stretched, and heard his stomach grumble. Cautiously, he pricked his ears for the familiar sound of a toddler wailing, but the house was quiet.
Tristan tilted his laptop partially closed and got to his feet. As he walked down the hall and through the dining room to the kitchen, he couldn’t help noticing that the house was still eerily silent. Worry began to creep in — until he heard a soft rumble of voices from the living room. He peered around the corner and spotted Ria on the couch, the triplets tucked under blankets on either side of her. They were watching, rapt, as she read aloud from an oversized picture book with a drawing of a duck in rain boots on the front.
“And then,” Ria read, her voice soft and melodic and completely captivating to the children, “Mr. Duck said…”
“Quack, quack, quack!” the toddlers chorused eagerly.
“That’s right!” Ria smiled down at them. “Then Mr. Duck got hungry. He waddled to the store, waddle, waddle, waddle. He waddled right through a puddle! Mr. Duck looked down at his boots and said…”
“Quack, quack, quack!”
“Exactly!”
Tristan ducked back into the dining room as Ria read on. He had the strange feeling that he’d intruded on a private moment, even though this was his home, and the triplets were his niece and nephews — and his kids. Something about the way Ria’s hair had escaped from behind her ear as she’d turned the page and the way her eyes had lit up with joy when the toddlers replied with the appropriate duck sound had caught in Tristan’s chest. And the triplets had looked so peaceful…
They were definitely better off with Ria while he worked. He wouldn’t bother them.
He slipped into the kitchen, where he grabbed one of his packaged kale salads and a protein shake. On the way back to his office, he was tempted to poke his head into the living room again to see if Ria and the triplets were still reading, but he didn’t. Tristan had work to do. Lots of it. It was better that he left Ria to her job.
For the rest of the evening, Tristan sat in his office, working, his noise-canceling headphones firmly on his ears. A few times, he was tempted to look out again to see what was going on, but since Ria hadn’t come to bang on his door demanding that he explain why his children were so unruly and none of the triplets had come crying to find him, Tristan had to assume that it was going well. The best thing he could do for himself and for the kids was to work, make sure his company stayed afloat, and slowly get their lives back on track.
Tristan kept working, focused and without stopping for more than a quick cup of matcha, until he heard the crash.