Page 18 of The Wolf's Plus-Size Nanny

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” I whisper, rubbing her back in slow circles the way Sonya showed me. “It’s just me, FiFi. I’m here.”

I can feel the tension in her tiny body ease up a bit, her cries softening into hiccupy breaths as she settles against me. The weight of her in my arms is grounding, and I focus on the steady rhythm of her breathing, letting it calm the wild thoughts still racing in my head.

This is what I should be concentrating on—Fiona. She needs me to be present, to be the dad she can rely on, not some idiot who can’t keep his hormones in check around the nanny. And Sonya… she’s counting on me, too, in her own way. She’s made it clear that she’s here for Fiona, that she’s got no room for distractions or drama, and I need to respect that.

The last thing I need is to complicate things by crossing a line that can’t be uncrossed. It’s not just about me; it’s about Fiona, and it’s about Sonya having a place where she feels safe and comfortable. I can’t risk messing that up just because I’m feeling… whatever it is I’m feeling right now.

“Okay, FiFi, we’re good,” I murmur, kissing the top of her head. “You’re okay, sweetheart.”

Fiona coos softly, and her little fingers grasp at my shirt as she snuggles closer. I let out a slow breath, feeling some of the tension drain away as I hold her. This right here—this is what matters. Not the weird tension with Sonya, not the confusion swirling in my head. Just Fiona, just being the dad she needs me to be.

I sink into the chair by the window, rocking gently as Fiona’s breathing evens out, her tiny body finally relaxing against me. I close my eyes, letting the quiet moments stretch out, grateful for the chance to reset. I can’t afford to get caught up in some fantasy that’s got no place in our reality. Sonya’s here because I need her help, because Fiona needs her, and that’s all it can be.

I replay the past few days in my mind, trying to pinpoint when things started to shift. Sonya’s been with us for ten days now, but it already feels like she’s woven herself into the fabric of this house like she’s always been a part of it. And maybe that’s what’s throwing me off—how easily she’s slipped into our lives, filling in the gaps I didn’t even realize were there.

Fiona stirs, her little hand clinging to the fabric of my shirt, and I hold her a little tighter, savoring the warmth of her against my chest. Sonya’s presence has brought a stability I didn’t know I needed, a sense of normalcy that’s hard to come by in the chaos of trying to figure out fatherhood on the fly.

And yet, for all the ways she’s made things better, there’s still that undercurrent of tension, the unspoken what-ifs that keep surfacing no matter how hard I try to push them down. It’s a line I know I shouldn’t even be thinking about crossing, but the thought lingers like a persistent itch I can’t reach to scratch.

I can’t let it get to me. I’ve got to keep things professional, keep my focus on Fiona and not on the way Sonya’s presence makes the house feel a little less empty. Because if I start letting my guard down, if I let myself slip, it’s not just my own mess I’m risking. It’s Fiona’s stability, Sonya’s peace of mind, the whole precarious balance we’ve managed to set up.

Fiona’s breathing is soft and steady now, and her eyelids flutter as she drifts back to sleep. I adjust her in my arms, careful not to wake her, and lean back in the chair, letting the quiet settle over us. This is where I need to be—right here, in this moment, doing right by Fiona.

And whatever’s happening with Sonya, whatever’s simmering under the surface, I’ll just have to find a way to deal with it. Because right now, I’ve got more important things tofocus on, and I can’t afford to let my mind wander down paths that lead nowhere good.

I glance toward the door, half-expecting to see Sonya standing there, but it’s just me and Fiona, wrapped in the stillness of the evening. I let out a slow breath, trying to steady the thoughts still spinning in my head.

She’s not my type, I remind myself again, though the mantra sounds weaker each time I repeat it. She’s not my type, and I can’t afford to complicate things. Not now, not ever.

Chapter 9 - Sonya

It’s too quiet, and that never means anything good. I peek around the corner into the living room, half-expecting to see Jack caught up in some new disaster of his own making, but the sight that greets me makes me stop in my tracks. Jack is slumped in the chair by the window with Fiona cradled against his chest, and both of them are sound asleep. The soft rise and fall of their breathing fills the room, and for a moment, I’m struck by how peaceful they look together. It’s a rare sight—Jack, the man who can’t sit still for five minutes, finally still.

My first instinct is to back away and leave them be, but something about the scene tugs at me. Jack’s face is softer in sleep, the usual tension gone, and Fiona looks like she’s found her perfect spot in the world. I move quietly, not wanting to wake them, and carefully lift Fiona from Jack’s arms. She stirs but settles easily in her crib, and her tiny fists curl around the edge of her blanket.

I turn back to Jack, who is still sound asleep, and notice his features are softened in a way I’ve never seen before. There’s a vulnerability there that makes my breath catch, and before I can talk myself out of it, I grab the throw blanket from inside the closet, intending to drape it over him. It’s the least I can do. He’s trying so hard, and I know how much he cares about getting this right.

But as I lean in, Jack’s eyes fly open, wild and unfocused. His hand shoots out, catching my wrist in a tight grip, and before I know it, he spins me around and walks me back until my back is pressed against the wall, him pinning me in place. My heart leaps into my throat, and for a second, I can’t breathe. His brown eyes are locked on mine, fierce and disoriented, like he’s still half-caught in whatever dream he was having.

“Jack,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice steady and low to avoid waking Fiona. “It’s just me. You’re okay.”

His grip loosens, and the fog of sleep clears from his eyes. He blinks, recognition dawning as he realizes what’s happened. We’re frozen like this, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. My pulse is pounding in my ears, and I can’t look away from his eyes, dark and intense, searching mine. There’s a charged silence, the kind that makes every nerve in my body stand on end, and for a moment, I swear he’s about to kiss me.

His gaze drops to my lips, and my tongue darts out to wet them on instinct. My heart is racing, and there’s a part of me that wants to close the distance, to see what would happen if I leaned in just a little more. But then, just as quickly as the moment comes, it’s gone. Jack blinks, and his expression flickers with something I can’t quite read before he pulls back like he’s been burned.

“Sorry,” he mutters, stepping away and running a hand through his hair. He looks shaken, like he’s just snapped out of a trance. “I—I thought you were… I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” I cut in, but my voice is higher than usual, not to mention a little breathless. I take a step to the side, needing the space to clear my head. My skin is buzzing, and I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my wrist. “You were just… dreaming, I guess.”

He nods, but he looks rattled, like he’s not sure what just happened, either. I can’t tell if it’s disappointment or relief that flashes across his face as he turns away, breaking the tension. My mind is spinning, and I’m left standing there, trying to convince myself that I didn’t just imagine the heat in his eyes, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the room.

“Sorry,” Jack says again, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” I lie. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to shake off the adrenaline still coursing through me. “It’s fine, really. I just wanted to put a blanket over you.”

“Right,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. He still seems dazed, like he’s not entirely sure how to recover from whatever that was. “Thanks. And, uh, sorry. Again.”

I give him a small smile, hoping it comes off more casual than I feel. “No worries. Just… try not to manhandle your nanny next time, okay?”

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