I sit straighter, giving my pinky finger to Otto. Faking the fucking smile on my face. “Wow. How’s that work with Sam?”
“The timing’s off. I’d be leaving before Marie is due back. He said we could work something out, but I don’t feel like it would be fair to him. And I know he’s got other candidates hoping for a chance at the position.”
I’m still trying to get my head around the idea of Nora not just working somewhere else in the city, but actually leaving the country, when she takes a big breath.
“What?”
“Well, thanks to my current employer’s generosity, I have enough money to get me through until March. So, from an experience-resume standpoint, whatever job I have until I leave won’t matter the same way it would if I was staying.” She leans forward. “I don’t need a job, and I’ll have enough money, okay?”
But I need—
Fuck.
I’m happy for her. I am. “That’s good, Nora. You shouldn’t have to worry so much.”
She nods, something in her posture softening. “Thank you. But I just wanted you to know that I’m okay before I brought this up. I know you want to find a more permanent solution for Otto sooner rather than later. But with this new development, me moving in March, it opens things up for me for the next three months.”
My head snaps up, eyes meeting hers.
She lifts a single shoulder. “And so, if you wanted me to, I could—”
“Yes!” I don’t give her the chance to finish before I rock back, pumping my fist in the air. “A thousand fucking times, yes.”
“Axel, if you need a minute to think about it?”
Is she kidding me? “I don’t.”
I crawl over Otto and look my son in the eyes. “She’s saving us again, bud. Yes. We get to keep Nora for three more months.”
And then, because I know she’s going to worry, I clarify it for her. “I wasn’t happy with any of the people the agency sent over. They have a great reputation, and I know they’re going to have someone perfect for us. You staying means I can be patient and picky and wait for that person to show up. Okay?”
She nods, giving me another gorgeous smile. “Okay. So, this works for both of us.”
“It does.”
Three more months. I get to keep her for three more months.
No more faking. I’m not going to fuck up. I’m putting that kiss behind me.
Nora
It’s been two weeks, and the relief I feel about staying on with Axel and Otto is immense. I’m not interested in becoming a career nanny. But I’m attached to these guys, and being able to stay feels right.
Correction, being able to stay for now feels right.
It’s only three months. Time enough for Axel to find a replacement he’s comfortable with, and not too long for me to wait for the next phase of my life to begin.
In Paris.
Geez, just thinking it stirs a nervous flutter in my belly. I used to imagine myself living there when I was little, wearing a beret and bicycling past the Eiffel Tower with one of those long loaves of French bread in the basket.
A little girl’s fantasy.
Maybe I’ll be able to take a selfie like that for Caroline.
I set aside the onesie I’m folding on my bed and pause the Learn to Speak French app Axel got me. Otto’s on his back beside me, and I give his legs a gentle squeeze before bicycling them slowly.
“Almost time to talk to Daddy. Are you excited?”
His arms do a baby flail I take as yes, so I scoop him up and carry him to the living room for our video call.
“I’m excited too.”
More than I should be, probably, but there isn’t much better than catching up with Axel Erikson.
The man makes me laugh. He makes me feel like what I’m saying matters. He makes me feel good.
According to Caroline, that’s my problem. She nearly lost her mind when I told her I was staying on. I had enough self-preservation not to admit to the kiss. But even without knowing about that little slip, she warned me I was getting too close.
I assured her I wasn’t. It’s what I’m hardwired to do, reassure the little girl who’s been looking to me for comfort and security since I was six years old. Even if it’s stretching the truth. And in this case, it may well be. Because I haven’t entirely gotten over that kiss.
I think about it more than I should, remembering the rush of being in Axel’s arms. The way he groaned my name. How he pressed me against the wall.
Well, the whiteboard.
Cripes, the whiteboard. Every time I see that carefully reconstructed list, the letters neater than they were the first time, I think about what it might have been like if we hadn’t stopped.
Of course, I think about the physical part. Axel is a really good kisser. But it’s more than just that. The part that gets to me, hurting a little more than it feels good when it sneaks into my head late at night, is imagining what comes after the passion and heat. Wondering if he would have pulled me against his chest and held me there until morning. If he would have told me he didn’t want to let me go… and I could have told him I didn’t want him to.
That’s the part I don’t like to think about. The part where I feel like I’m betraying myself on the deepest level.
Because Paris!
I’m not supposed to be fantasizing about a man who sees me as his son’s nanny before he sees me any other way asking me to change my plans. I want options. Experience. I want to grow.
I want Paris.
Fortunately, Axel isn’t any more interested in a relationship than I am, so I don’t need to worry about any of that stuff happening.
The tablet trills with an incoming video call, and my belly lights up with a different kind of flutter. I answer, expecting to see a familiar wide grin but let out a short shriek when I’m greeted, instead, with a closeup of Axel’s bare chest and abs. He’s got a towel wrapped around his hips, cinched so low— I shake my head and swallow.
Take a breath.
We’ve been here before. Just not quite this up close and personal.
I can actually see the spot where the terry tucks into itself is starting to give. My heart stutters to a stop as—
“Shit!” He grabs the towel at the last second, catching it.
And I need to get a hold of myself before I make this weird. I pull it together.
“Oh cripes, Axel. Warn a girl, will you?” I grin, covering my eyes with my hand but holding my fingers open so I can still see Axel as he steps back from the camera and walks through his Vegas hotel room.
“Sorry, our event ran long, and I wanted to grab a shower but didn’t want to be late calling.”
“You didn’t need to rush. You could have gotten dressed.”
“And miss this?” He waves a hand around his face, dropping his jaw and bugging his eyes before pointing to the screen with a smug smile.
I gasp, torn between outrage and horror… and the laughter that’s never far away when I’m talking to this man.
Laughter wins out and I sit back with an exaggerated sigh. “You’re the worst.”
“You’re the one peeling my towel off with your eyes.” Then before I can even argue, he switches gears. “How are the French lessons coming?”