Page 26 of Marrying the Nanny

“It is. I’m glad you noticed that, Reid.” She rose and brought back a pad of paper. “This is the shift the nurses use at the hospital. Three days on, one day off, three nights on, two days off. Emma said Storm is usually up around six in the morning so I think twelve hours, six to six would work perfectly.”

Tick-tock, tick-tock. The swing was the only sound until Storm gagged on her own fingers. She whimpered and held out her wet hand.

Emma dried her hand, silently willing all of them to notice, I’m taking care of her.

“Twelve hours of what, exactly?” Reid shot Emma a look that was vaguely accusatory.

“Childcare.”

“That’s what we’re paying Emma for,” Logan said.

“For thirty hours a week. Not twenty-four seven.”

“I want to be here, Glenda,” Emma said. “I love Storm.” Please don’t ruin this for me. She didn’t want these men to resent her or think she was complaining.

“I know you do.” Glenda smiled at her. “But if you were her mother, you would expect help from your husband. It takes a village and all that.”

“We’re Emma’s sister wives?” Logan asked, mild and scathing at the same time.

“Bro hubs,” Trystan corrected out of the side of his mouth.

“Gender is a construct. Read the internet,” Logan shot back.

“You boys are responsible for this baby,” Glenda insisted in a tone that told them to rein in the banter. “You didn’t ask for it, that’s true. Nevertheless, she’s here. Accept it.”

Reid pushed away from the table and strode across to the lounge.

Another silence crashed down around them. Emma was afraid to move, to look up and see whatever was in the faces of these men.

“I never allowed you to blame each other for existing,” Glenda reminded them. “Don’t reject her because you’re mad at your father.”

The discernible cloud of emotion thickened.

“We didn’t have to look after each other, Mom. You’re talking about wiping ass and buying brassieres for the next eighteen years.”

“I am. And you should be thankful you have each other to lean on while you do it. I’m sure Sophie can tell you it’s much harder when you have more people relying on you than you can rely on. I’m sure Emma can, too, seeing as she’s been looking after Storm by herself since Wilf and Tiffany left, as well as cooking and cleaning up after you boys.”

They might have cast a few culpable glances at each other over that one, but Emma didn’t look. Storm grew discontent and she seized on the distraction.

Storm was getting cold in the swing so she stopped it, leaving only the sound of Storm’s babble as she drew her out. She fetched her blanket from the sofa and cuddled it around her, avoiding Reid’s gaze as she slipped past his razor-sharp profile.

“Can I ask what I’m supposed to do?” Emma asked, bouncing Storm softly.

“You’ll be here to pitch in, show them what to do, but log your hours and make it equal. I’m sure there are times when they’ll all have commitments, but don’t let anyone take advantage of you.”

Kind of her signature move, but okay.

“When, um, would this start? The service is tomorrow,” Emma reminded them. They would all have to be there.

“Does Storm not need changing and feeding until the weekend?” Glenda asked.

Emma was starting to suspect Logan came by his sarcastic streak quite honestly.

“Of course, you can take charge of her during the service tomorrow, but what would you normally do with her this evening?” Glenda asked.

Emma glanced at the clock. “Usually, a bath after dinner. Get her ready for bed and give her a bottle before tucking her in for the night.” Then collapse. Maybe have a glass of wine and watch garbage television for an hour before crawling into bed herself.

“Perfect. You can start showing the boys how that’s done. Who’s up first?”

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