Page 16 of The Nanny Next Door

“Ooh, just tell him you’ve got an important question to ask him and send a winky face!” Christine suggested through the door. “That’ll get him. Men are so easy.”

“Good idea!” Gina said.

“Terrible idea!” I cried. “Please, get out of there. If you’ll just give me my phone back, you guys can help me write the text and I’ll try to take your advice a little.”

Gina’s head popped out of the door in seconds. “Really?” she asked with narrowed eyes. Christine looked at me with just as much skepticism.

“Yes, really,” I sighed. “I’ll still make it professional! But… I don’t know. I would like to see him again. Maybe we can… let him know that.”

Their squeals almost broke the sound barrier.

After what felt like an hour of crafting a “perfect” risky text—an oxymoron in my book, but I knew I needed to take risks sometimes if I wanted the kind of man-shaped rewards my roommates always had—I was faced with a message that might actually work. Two birds, one digital stone.

The text in question read:

Hey, Felipe! Hope you’re doing well since we had lunch together :) Mr. Pierce wants to know if we could work out some arrangement where I could nanny both kiddos at once, but he’s not sure whether Miles would be on board. If you could talk to him for us, I’d be so happy! In fact, there might be a little reward in it for you. ;) It’d be so good to see you again. xx

Christine insisted on the double kiss ending. Gina insisted on the winky face. I insisted there was no way I could send a message as overtly flirtatious as that, but then Gina was reaching over and pressing the Send button herself, and the deed was done. Whether I liked it or not, I’d just sent a risky text to Felipe Rojas.

I really had no business trying to flirt with someone like Felipe—gorgeous, filthy rich, and otherwise completely perfect. He could easily land a much more perfect woman, surely. A swimsuit model or a humanitarian or the heiress to some other great fortune would make more sense with him. Not some twenty-two-year-old virgin with society-induced body image issues and romantic notions of princes and castles and dragons. But then again, the way he’d looked at me made me feel like the most special person on Planet Earth, smiled with the force of a thousand suns… There was a possibility I wasn’t overestimating myself at all. Of course, I was terrified that he’d respond poorly. But the bigger worry in my mind was a double-edged sword. What on Earth would I do if my friend-induced flirting actually worked?

10

FELIPE

It was hard not to stare at my phone the entire time my family’s private plane was taking off. It was even harder not to over-analyze the message from Lila Dawson, digging into the simple message for hidden meanings I wasn’t sure existed. English may not be my first language, but I’d spoken it since I was a child, and I wasn’t sure there was any way to misinterpret a winky face.

It wasn’t the time to be considering such things. I was on the way back home to Chile for a visit to my family. The last time I’d been thinking of a woman on a trip home, I’d just been cheated on by my then-fiancée, the woman I’d once considered the love of my life. Only fools rush in, I reminded myself as I stared at the saucy double kiss at the end of Lila’s text. I was determined to no longer be such a fool.

As we flew over crystalline blue water, the plane cutting through perfect wispy clouds, I forced my mind back to the matter at hand. Visiting home was always a bit complicated, but I loved my family, and I was eager to share the news of the successful deal Miles and I had struck with Pierce Enterprises. The partnership was already off to an incredible start, expanding the reaches of my philanthropic efforts far beyond my wildest dreams, and my father especially would be proud to hear about all the details. He was a powerful businessman in his own right and had built the fortune I’d never taken for granted from his own blood, sweat, and tears. He owned a charitable organization to help low-income families in Chile, too. It had been too long since I had seen my parents, and I was eager to reunite with them, hug them both, and hear how things were going back home.

The only concern, really, was that my mother and grandmother would inevitably ask me about my love life, and barring any brewing interest I had in Lila Dawson, there was absolutely nothing to report. “You’re too handsome to be alone,” my mother always told me, her fluid Spanish accent only marginally softening the blow. It always sounded more pleasant, being scolded in our native tongue. Abuela always told me, “You’d better hurry up and give me great-grandchildren before I end up in the grave.” That one couldn’t be softened, no matter the beauty of the Spanish language.

Being nagged for my unmarried status always stung more because of how badly I wanted that for myself. It wasn’t like I wasn’t trying—I always kept myself open to the idea of love, looking for it in every kind, pretty woman I met. But it was hard to know a woman was genuine rather than in it for my money and status.

My mother and father had the kind of marriage I wanted for myself. They’d met as teenagers and had never once strayed from one another. My mother had supported my father through his various business triumphs and the hiccups along his road to success, and he had been a doting husband, always caring for her heart just as well as he cared for their family as it grew—first my sister, then two brothers, then me, and another sister after that. Even now, in their late sixties, my parents still looked at each other with a transcendent love in their eyes that made my heart ache. And each of my siblings had found their life partners by now, settled down, and started families of their own.

I loved being Tio Felipe to my nieces and nephews, but I had always pictured myself as a loving husband and father too, and I’d been so close to realizing that dream when I was engaged to Rosalia. Worse, my family had adored her, had never quite understood why I broke things off, since I never had the heart to tell them she’d cheated on me with one of my and Miles’s old college friends, Hector. My mother sometimes still saw Rosalia at church and the two of them gabbed like old friends, since Rosalia had stayed in Chile as well. It was a slap in the face each time she gave me a well-meaning, sad-eyed update that “Rosalia is doing wonderfully, mijo. She is still so pretty, just like my boy. She’s not married yet, either.”

Hector wasn’t the marriage type, and it turned out Rosalia wasn’t either. At least my family had never thought much of him, even when I had considered him one of my best friends. Abuela had called Hector a snake in the grass long before he’d slept with my fiancée. I’d learned to listen to her after that.

The rushing whoosh of the plane eventually lulled me to sleep, and when I was dreaming, I lost all distinction that that world wasn’t real life. The dream sequence began to take shape in my mind, vivid and heartwarming, a world where Lila Dawson was my new bride.

We were in Chile, surrounded by vibrant colors and boisterous sounds and the spiced smells of home, my heart bursting with joy.

"Abuela, this is Lila," I said, holding Lila’s hand as we stood in the living room of my family’s house. My grandmother’s eyes lit up with a joy I hadn't seen in years.

“Lila, this is my beloved abuela, Manuela. She’s been looking forward to meeting you for so long.”

A diamond as bright as her smile glinted in the dreamy glow of the scene, right there on her ring finger. Lila, ever the picture of grace and charm, smiled warmly and offered her hand to the old, hunched woman. "It’s an honor to meet you, Señora."

Abuela took Lila’s hand, examining her with a scrutinizing yet kind gaze. “She’s beautiful, Felipe,” she said to me in Spanish, still holding Lila’s hand. “And I can see she has a good heart.”

The dream shifted to a large family gathering. We were in my parents' back yard, the air filled with the sounds of laughter and the smell of grilled meat. My cousins and siblings were there, all eager to meet the woman who had captured my heart.

“Lila, Lila!” my youngest niece, Zoya, chanted, dancing around our feet. “Is she a fairy?”

“Not quite.” I laughed, squeezing Lila against me. In this world, she had an ethereal sort of glow, almost like the fairy dust my niece was always claiming to use against me. “She’s a nanny, and a wonderful one at that.”

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