Page 73 of Nanny For My Brother's Best Friend

“Do you want a boy or a girl this time, Miles?”

“I pictured a boy at the game when you brought Lola to the glass, but I don’t care. It will be great either way.”

He looks at the pictures with a soft smile that melts my heart.

“You imagined a boy.”

I laugh, not believing what I’m hearing. I just wanted Miles to accept the baby and never expected him to be so involved.

“Yeah. I saw you with an older version of Lola and this baby boy in your arms at the glass, smiling as you watched me interact with them. He looked like both of us and it was kind of perfect.”

This might work. I don’t know how, but it might. We’re in his bed every night if he’s home, but life is normal aside from that. I take care of Lola as much as ever and seeing her as a big sister makes me smile all the time.

I’m blessed when I feel better in the second trimester, but we’re still hiding it from everyone else. We’re at a point where it’s safe to make the announcement, but I feel so scared about it.

Andrew comes by for dinner one night, settling in the living room with Miles and Lola while I finish a pot roast in the kitchen. It feels great to cook again without being nauseous and unable to eat a meal, and I listen to them in the living room.

“Gabe said he had Lola over when you had something to do. Are they replacing me and the family?”

I am still at my brother’s words and waiting for Miles to respond.

“Not at all. His daughter is close to Lola’s age, so we thought they might have fun together. He’s a friend as well. I should hang out more with the guys who have kids.”

Casual. Believable.

“Probably. She’s at that age. They had a good time?”

“Totally. It might become a thing.”

“Del’s good? There isn’t something wrong?”

My heart sinks again and I close my eyes.

“She’s fine. She had some plans, and I’m not a total ogre.”

Hiding this is hard. I hate lying to everyone and I set the salad aside and reach into the oven to pull out the tray, forgetting mitts in my distraction.

“Ouch!”

I jump back as Miles comes running into the kitchen.

“What happened?”

“Forgot oven mitts.”

He grabs some and takes the pan out as I rinse my hands with warm water, frustrated with myself.

I cry as I finish up the dinner with aching hands and my brother stares at me. My hormones have been crazy, and this happens over nothing, but I play it off.

“What’s wrong, Delilah? You seem so emotional lately.”

Andrew is looking sharply at me, and I shrug as I wrap my hands in damp towels.

“I feel dumb because I burned my hands like that. Do you know how hard that’s going to make my week?”

“I guess, but crying isn’t your style.”

“You didn’t see me in college when I was stressing out. What do you know?”

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