Page 25 of Mister Mom

“He’s filming and I have no idea when he’ll be back. Payne puts on a good front but I know he’s confused over why Carver hasn’t returned. Why we haven’t gone to visit him. I don’t know if he’s acting out for attention or what, but I have three weeks left of filming and no nanny.”

I feel for the woman, I do, but I have no idea where to find a good nanny. Hell, when I was younger, it was the kid down the street. No one looked for twenty-four-hour help.

“There must be another service you can call.”

She nods. “No, there is, it’s just I have to apply and most reputable agencies don’t just assign one to you like a package.”

“So how can I help you on this then? You want me to conduct the interviews since you’re busy?”

I’m afraid for this woman’s sanity. I’m a thirty-four-year-old bachelor. What the hell do I know about what makes a good nanny?

“I was thinking you could do it,” she says, sounding hopeful.

Now I know for sure something’s wrong with her.

“Do what?” I raise a brow and take a sip of my coffee.

“Be his manny.”

My coffee somehow takes a wrong turn into my windpipe. I start coughing and coffee spews out of my mouth. I beat on my chest for a second as my eyes water and eventually get my coughing fit under control. Reaching for a napkin to wipe up the mess dotting the table, I ask, “I’m sorry, his what?”

“You seem to like him and he responds well to you. Look at him now.”

We both turn our heads, finding him hugging the poop emoji to himself. He almost looks angelic, but yesterday’s demon eyes aren’t forgotten. There’s definitely a Jekyll to his Hyde.

“Layla, I want you to take the part. Half because of the investor and half because you seem really excited about the role and I think you could do a good job of it. But a nanny, or manny, I am not. Does he wear a diaper? I have no idea how to put those on, and I shouldn’t be cleaning him up… down there.”

She laughs and her perfectly bleached teeth glow like the sunshine on an early morning.

“He’s been potty-trained since two and a half.”

“Okay, but still. I’m not qualified.”

“You wouldn’t have the baby. I’d keep her in daycare. It would just be Payne and only until I could find something else. A week, tops.” The desperation in her voice already has me caving.

“Look, I’m not your guy. I don’t know the first thing about taking care of a four-year-old.”

She reaches across the table and grips my hand in hers. “Please. I can’t bail on this job when we’re already halfway through filming. It’ll make me look unprofessional, cost the studio money, and I’ll never get another job again.”

I shake my head. “Layla, I can’t.”

She releases my hands and slumps back against her seat. “But you stayed,” she near-whispers.

I push my coffee aside, not needing any more caffeine to make me more anxious. My heart’s already trying to catch up to the adrenaline pumping through my arteries. “Stayed?”

“You have to be a good guy. When the nanny left, you didn’t pawn Payne off on someone else. You didn’t come looking for me somewhere. You didn’t even force him to open the door. You just sat outside and waited. He told me about how you talked to him through the door.” She’s smiling again, one that reminds me of someone reliving a fond memory.

“I might know enough not to leave a kid by himself, but I’ll probably swear in front of him.”

“He’s heard it all. Just don’t let him use them.”

“I could lose him somewhere. I’m used to being by myself.”

“Payne isn’t a drifter. He sticks close to the hip.”

“My apartment is full of glass and breakables.”

“You can watch him at my place.”

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