Page 41 of Architect's Christmas Nanny

Sometime after midnight, Brad rolled over again, telling himself it was the lumpy old mattress that was keeping him up, even though he knew better.

Sighing, he sat up and stretched his arms as he looked out the window. Snow flurries danced in the moonlight and he smiled at the sight, feeling like a little boy again for a moment.

Will Josie feel this way about Trinity Falls one day?

But thoughts of his daughter led him straight back to what he had been trying not to dwell on. Watching Jillian guide her through how to share their traditions had nearly broken his heart.

Josie had been excited and proud of the idea that she had something meaningful and fun to pass along to her cousins. She hadn’t sensed the heartbreak Jillian hid so well.

But Brad could feel it as if it were his own. He had watched Jillian take his daughter into her arms withouthesitation nine years ago. And now he was watching her learn to let her go.

I don’t want her to let go.

But that line of thought was selfish, and it wouldn’t get him anywhere anyway. Jillian had another job lined up. He had arranged it himself. She was only here because she was too kindhearted not to give Josie some extra time to accept what was happening.

But now his heart was racing and his stomach was clenching, and he knew it would be another long, restless night.

He swung his legs off the bed and stood, letting the cold pine floor under his bare feet invigorate him. He definitely wasn’t going to sleep. He might as well go downstairs and get a little work done.

He slipped past Josie and Jillian’s room, and headed for the stairwell. The steps creaked, sounding louder than usual in the darkened house. The thermostat was turned down at night, so the empty downstairs was colder than usual. Between that and the rich pine scent of the Christmas tree, he felt almost like he was sneaking through the moonlit woods rather than slipping downstairs in his own house.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs he heard murmuring that definitely didn’t belong in the forest. Moving as quietly as he could on his bare feet, he made his way toward the warm light emanating from the kitchen. The murmurs coalesced into words as he got closer.

“Good grief,” Jillian was muttering to herself impatiently. “Why won’t you just stay where I put you?”

Her frustrated tone was unfamiliar. Jillian was always calm and patient.

He turned the corner and saw her framed by the open kitchen counter, frowning down at the pieces of the gingerbread house.

A yellow, stained-glass pendant light with a single bulb hung over Jillian’s workspace. It had probably been installed in the seventies, but the golden light it cast made the whole kitchen feel like it was filled with summer sunlight—a warmth that was in direct contrast with Jillian’s dark mood.

Brad found himself smiling and thinking to himself that he might clean that fixture up, but he was definitely keeping it now.

“Do you need some help?” he asked her gently, not wanting to scare her.

“Oh,”she gasped. “Brad. Wow, I didn’t hear you coming.”

“Sorry,” he said.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.

Her eyes moved over him, as if she wondered if he wasn’t feeling well. They froze over his chest and then she looked away quickly.

He glanced down to see what she’d been looking at, but he was just wearing the same old white t-shirt and a pair of gray sweats, his usual winter sleepwear—nothing he wouldn’t wear to the gym or even just to lounge around the house.

“I’m just getting the gingerbread house put together,” she told him, her eyes back on her work.

“I thought you and Josie already did that,” he said, following her gaze to the tray.

“Well,” she said, sounding a little uncomfortable. “Maybe it’s best for me to let you in on just the tiniest secret now.”

“What is it?” he asked, intrigued. Jillian was one of the most straightforward people he knew. He couldn’t imagine what secret she would be hiding.

“Putting together a gingerbread house is hard,” she told him. “Likereallyhard. And Josie likes to use a lot of candy, which means it has to bear weight. I use this wooden box to support it when the two of us put it together, but then after she falls asleep, I have to come down and keep working on it until it can actually stand on its own.”

“That is a big secret,” Brad had to admit. He had heard her tell Josie before that they would use the boxjust until it dries.He’d had no idea the whole thing was a ruse. “How do you do it?”

“At the end of the day, it really comes down to the frosting,” she told him. “I just keep making it thicker and thicker and getting more layers on there until it’s strong enough to hold. But there’s a lot of trial and error. And a lot of talking to myself.”

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