Page 35 of The Nanny Next Door

“You’re fantastic with them,” Aaron told me sincerely. “Really, it’s amazing to watch. Both of those kids think you hung the goddamn moon, and I'm half convinced they’re right.”

I blushed through his compliments and murmured my thanks.

Aaron, it seemed, was in a warmer, more talkative mood than I’d ever seen from him. He mused, “I’m glad Jamie’s thriving, but I worry about him. His mom, too.” He turned his body toward me, a physical opening up that signified he was going to speak freely. “Have I told you about my little sister?”

“No,” I answered. “Nothing.”

“Well, it’s not the most pleasant of topics,” he explained with a grimace. “Whitney is… erratic. We grew up in a pretty rough home, nothing like what these kids are getting. Dirt poor, no dad, a mom who was an addict. The usual sob story. And Whitney… well, she had a harder time than me, I guess, because she’s turned out just like you’d think. Terrible taste in men, no real direction, and an addict, too. Been in and out of rehab a few times when I practically forced her to do it, but nothing’s ever stuck.”

I’d suspected something like this had led to Jamie’s being foisted upon his uncle with no time to make childcare arrangements. But hearing it confirmed was different, more devastating. “Is she… having a rough time?” I asked, unsure how to broach the delicate topic.

“I don’t know, to be honest. She hasn’t spoken to me since she left Jamie with me at my office. I’ve tried reaching out, but nothing.” He shook his head, running a hand over his short beard. “I hate that she’s not fit to take care of him herself, because some nights when I’ve been with him, I’ve heard him sort of… call out to her. ‘Mama, mama,’ that sort of thing. He misses her.”

Oh, gosh. The thought of the baby I’d grown so attached to suffering that way could have shattered my heart into a million little pieces. And I could see, now, that Aaron’s heart was just as easy to break when it came to his family. Despite his sister’s flaws, it was clear that Aaron loved her, and any resentment or disappointment he felt for her was rooted in that love.

“I’m sure she misses him, too, deep down,” I said. If she cared enough about her child to leave him with Aaron, the person in this world who was most equipped to spoil the kid monetarily, there must be some part of her who still thought of him while they were apart.

“Yeah. Anyway, her silence is… unusual. Got me worried sick. I’ve been thinking of hiring a PI to track her down, but that’d probably just make her pissed off at me again for getting in her business, damn it.”

“It might be worth it, though. If she’s in danger, wouldn’t you rather know?” I asked the question genuinely, and Aaron gave a shrug as if to say, You have a point. “Family can be complicated for a lot of people, but one thing that’s true for most all of them, dysfunctional or not, is that they have to look out for each other. That’s all you’re trying to do for Whitney. If she loves you half as much as you clearly love her, she’ll understand someday.”

Aaron looked at me with soft gratitude written across his strong features. We basked in this moment of common ground for a second, and then he broke the silence to ask, “Would you like a drink?”

Aaron had an impressive wine collection, and he skillfully opened a bottle of red for us, clinking his glass against mine in a silent toast when he came back to the sofa. Soon, the conversation flowed so easily that I shared some details of my own family, too, while Aaron listened with something like fascination in his dark eyes.

“I’m the youngest of five siblings, so I definitely get how those relationships can be… complicated,” I told him as I sipped the wine that probably cost more than my college tuition. “But I’m close with my brothers and sisters, even though they treat me like a baby more often than I’d like. I’m really close with my parents, too. Well, emotionally. They’re back in Indiana, but I call them all the time.”

“I knew you were a Midwest girl,” Aaron said through a flirtatious grin. Next thing I knew, we were talking about the dreams I’d come to New York to pursue—the writing career I hoped to eke out for myself someday. I’d never thought before how this was yet more common ground between the two of us. Aaron had worked very hard to achieve his own goals, and now he was reaping the rewards of success. It was inspiring to see.

“You know, publishing isn’t my industry, but I’ve developed some good connections throughout the years,” Aaron told me, his voice low. “I could probably pull some strings for you. Money talks in this town—hell, in every town.”

I shook my head. “That’s very generous of you, but no thanks. I really want to make it on my own, you know? Besides, right now I’m in between a bunch of manuscripts, but none of them are really ready to publish. I’m excited about one of them, but it’s so hard to find time to really dedicate myself to writing.”

Our conversation kept flowing, and so did the wine. He asked thoughtful questions about my writing projects, and I told him about the series I hoped to write following a young girl’s adventures through New York City.

“I love the idea of having one of those long-running chapter book series where kids can get exposure to some difficult topics through this character they’ve learned to love,” I explained as I finished my second glass of wine, the warmth of it loosening my tongue. “Things real-life kids have to deal with, you know? I think books are such a good place for them to work through stuff that can be hard to understand.”

Aaron nodded thoughtfully, meeting my eyes over his glass as he downed the last drops of his, too. I wasn’t usually much of a drinker, but I was enjoying the comfortable camaraderie too much to pass up his offer of another glass. He poured one for me and a slightly deeper glass for himself, and then he spoke again. “I think that sounds like a fantastic idea for a book series, and I have no doubt that you’ll find a lot of success with it. You’ve got a special air about you. It’s part of why the kids adore you. And apparently, every man you meet, too.”

I flushed nearly as scarlet as the wine. Where had all of this charm come from all of a sudden? Was it just the seemingly good mood he’d been in when he first walked through the door, or was wine the key to opening him up?

Either way, I wanted more of it. Throughout our winding conversation about our families and dreams and lives, Aaron and I had moved ever closer to one another on the sofa, until the cushion of space I’d allowed as a buffer was now reduced to an inch or two. It was so easy, then, to lean in when Aaron looked as though we wanted to kiss me, to meet his lips with my own in a relieved sigh.

This was so much sweeter than that day in his office. No urgency, no anger bolstering the passion. No, it was a slow, gentle kiss, though the sensuality picked up with each passing moment. Aaron’s strong hands found their way into my hair, and I laid my own hand over his thick thigh, trying so hard to be good and not inch upward even when the heat became borderline unbearable.

For once, though, my brain overrode the desires of my body. I was dealing with too many personal messes already. I pulled back from Aaron’s kiss, catching my breath before I asked him, “Can we talk?”

His brow furrowed. “I thought we were talking.”

“No, I mean—can we talk about us? What we’re doing? What we are to each other?”

I knew from the look on his face that I’d caught him off guard, and there was a tight, anxious feeling in my chest at the prospect of this conversation, too. But I’d learned my lesson about getting involved with someone with no thought or care for the future, and I needed to draw lines somewhere before I fell into bed with Aaron Pierce or anyone else.

I guessed it really was true—the third time was the charm.

24

AARON

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