27. Nora
NORA
We're still in the laundry room, both of us breathing hard, trying to process what just happened.
I'm sitting on the dryer in just his t-shirt that he grabbed for me, my legs still shaking, and he's leaning against the opposite wall in his jeans, no shirt, looking at me like I'm something precious.
"I meant it," he says quietly. "I love you. I've been in love with you for weeks, maybe months now."
My chest tightens. "I love you too. God, I've been trying so hard not to, but I do. I really do."
He crosses the small space, his hands framing my face. "Then why do you look terrified?"
"Because this changes everything." I close my eyes, leaning into his touch. "Jessica could come back, Tyler. She could decide she wants Harper, and if she does—if there's a custody battle—"
"She won't win." His voice is firm. "She abandoned Harper. The courts won't—"
"They might." I open my eyes, looking at him. "And if they find out that you're sleeping with the nanny, that could complicate things. Make it look like Harper's home environment is unstable."
"Red." His voice is gentle. "Jessica abandoned her. She hasn't contacted me once in over five months. No court is going to take Harper away from her established home just because you and I are together."
"But what if—"
"I know. You're catastrophizing. That's what you do when you're scared of losing something." He kisses my forehead. "But we'll be smart about it anyway. For Harper. And for you, because I know you need the time."
I take a shaky breath, letting his words settle over me. "So, we keep it quiet. Private. Just us. At least until custody is secure. Until we know Jessica can't take her away."
Tyler's quiet for a long moment, processing. Then: "So we can still fuck, right? Like, in private?"
I burst out laughing. "Did you seriously just ask that?"
"I'm being practical." But he's grinning now. "We just had the best sex of my life, and I need to know if I'm allowed to do that again or if I'm supposed to suffer."
"You're ridiculous."
"That's not an answer, Red."
I pull him closer by his belt loops. "Yes, we can still fuck. Obviously. But we're taking this slow everywhere else. For Harper's sake."
"Define slow."
"No telling people we're together. No public displays of affection. To the outside world, I'm still just the nanny."
"You've never been just the nanny."
"I know that. You know that. But everyone else?" I gesture vaguely toward the world beyond the laundry room. "They need to keep thinking about it. Until Harper's safe."
He's quiet again, and I can see him working through it, weighing what I'm saying against what he wants.
"Okay," he finally says. "We keep it private. We're together, but we're careful about it. For Harper."
"For Harper," I agree.
"But Nora?" He tilts my chin up, making sure I'm looking at him. "This isn't just sex for me. What we just did—that wasn't just about wanting you physically. That was me being in love with you. That was me choosing you. And I need you to know that."
Tears prick my eyes. "I know. It wasn't just sex for me either. It was—" My voice breaks. "It was everything."
He kisses me, soft and sweet and so full of love it makes my chest ache.
"Come on," he says eventually, helping me down from the dryer. "Let's get out of this laundry room before we do something stupid like go for round two."
"Would that be stupid?"
"Probably not. But Harper could wake up any second, and I'd like to have a shirt on when I check on her."
We clean up the laundry room—picking up scattered clothes, folding the last of Harper's tiny outfits, and pretending everything's normal when everything just fundamentally changed.
In the living room, we settle on the couch, and Tyler immediately pulls me against his side.
His arm comes around my shoulders, and I tuck myself into his warmth, my head on his chest. The silver bracelet he gave me on Christmas morning catches the lamplight where my hand rests on his stomach—the small N charm I've been wearing every day for two weeks, the one I told him was beautiful when I unwrapped it and didn't tell him I cried alone in my room afterward.
He notices me looking at it. His hand covers mine, his thumb brushing the charm.
"You wear it every day," he says quietly.
"I do."
"I wasn't sure you would."
"Tyler. I haven't taken it off since you put it on me."
He doesn't say anything to that. Just holds my hand a little tighter against his stomach.
"This is okay, right?" he asks. "When it's just us?"
"This is more than okay."
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, just existing together in this new reality where we're allowed to touch, allowed to be close, allowed to love each other out loud.
"Tell me about the future," Tyler says quietly. "When we don't have to hide this anymore. What does that look like?"
"You really want to know?"
"I really want to know."
I close my eyes, letting myself imagine it. "We tell Emma. She probably already knows, but we make it official. Then everyone else. And I stop calling myself the nanny."
"What do you call yourself?"
"I don't know. Your girlfriend? Your partner?" I shrug. "Whatever feels right."
"My girlfriend." He tests the word out. "I like that. Nora Collins, my girlfriend. Future mother of my children."
I sit up, looking at him. "Future, what?"
"Too much?" But he's smiling, completely unrepentant.
"We literally just admitted we're together like twenty minutes ago, and you're already thinking about more kids?"
"I've been thinking about forever with you for weeks, Red. Harper needs siblings eventually, right?"
My heart is racing, but it's not fear. It's hope. "You're serious."
"Dead serious. I'm in love with you, Red. I'm thinking long-term here. I’m not saying we get married tomorrow or have a baby next year. I'm just saying that when I think about my future, you're in it. You, Harper, and maybe a couple more little ones down the line. That's what I see."
I stare at him for a long moment, and then I realize: I see that too. "I see that too," I whisper. "When I let myself think about it."
"Then let yourself think about it." He pulls me back against him. "Because that's where we're heading, Red. Maybe not today, maybe not next month. But eventually."
"Eventually," I agree; the word feels like a promise.
We talk for hours after that, curled up together on the couch, planning a future that feels both impossibly far away and close enough to touch. Tyler tells me about wanting to buy a house, a real one, not a rental. Somewhere with a yard for Harper to play in, and space for her to grow.
I tell him about wanting stability, about being terrified of getting attached only to lose everything again. He listens without judgment, just holds me tighter, and promises me again that he's not going anywhere.
"We're going to make this work," he says firmly. "All of it. The hiding, the waiting, the eventually. We're going to make it work because what we have is worth fighting for."
Around midnight, Harper starts fussing over the monitor. We both move automatically, heading upstairs together, but Tyler pauses at the nursery door.
"Should we—I mean, do we both go in? Or is that—"
"We both go in." I take his hand. "Nothing's changed with how we care for her."
"Right. Yeah."
We get Harper settled together—a new diaper, a quick bottle, and back to sleep within twenty minutes. And when we're standing in the hallway after, Tyler pulls me close.
"This is going to be hard," he says. "Keeping this quiet. Pretending we're not together when we're around other people."
"I know."
"But it's worth it. You're worth it."
"So are you." I stand on my toes and kiss him softly. "We can do this. For Harper."
"For Harper," he agrees. "And for us."
We separate at our bedroom doors, and it feels wrong somehow, going to sleep alone after everything that just happened. But we both know it's the right thing to do. Harper could wake up and need one of us, so maintaining some normalcy is important.
"Goodnight, Red," Tyler says from his doorway.
"Goodnight, Ty."
I close my door and lean against it, touching my lips where he just kissed me, my body still humming from what we did in the laundry room.
We're together.
We're in love.
And for now, that has to be enough.
Even though every part of me wants to march across the hall and climb into his bed, fall asleep in his arms, and wake up next to him.
Eventually. Eventually, we'll have that.
We have to be patient.
We have to put Harper first.
And we just have to trust that what we have is strong enough to survive the waiting.
My phone buzzes.
Tyler: Missing you already.
Me: You saw me thirty seconds ago.
Tyler: Still missing you. Wish you were in my bed.
Me: Soon. When this is all over.
Tyler: Counting the days, Red. Already counting the days.
I set my phone down and climb into bed, but sleep doesn't come easily. I'm too wired, too full of love and fear and hope all tangled together.
But lying here in the dark, knowing Tyler's across the hall, feeling the same way—that we're in this together now—I let myself believe it.
That we're going to make it.
That this love is worth the wait.