Page 21 of The Billionaire & the Nanny: Vol. 3

“Paisley. Daddy’s alright, but Paisley is the best.” Rounding the sofa, she offers them sippy cups of juice and a carrot sticks in two, plastic bowls. I want to tell her I don’t like food on my living room couch, especially toddler food, but decide against it. Don’t want to ruin this perfectly good evening .

As the movie begins, and the kids snuggle closer, I realize Paisley is hanging back. “Hey,” I say. “You don’t have to leave us. Come, sit here with us .”

On the same couch where I fucked your brains out almost two weeks ago .

Wherever she went, she can’t hear me. I take it as a sign that this allotted time should be just me and the kids, so I don’t insist. I take the hint. Just me and the kids. I feel my stress melting away and know I have to do this more often .

* * *

M iriam arrivesto pick the kids up while we’re still watching the movie. She walks in and leans against the wall. The kids are too entranced with the colorful cartoon movie to move or even acknowledge her. I do a mini victory dance in my head. “Why aren’t they ready with their shoes on ?”

I give her a lazy glance. “I didn’t see what time it was .”

“Didn’t see or didn’t want to see ?”

I wish for once she would stop playing games with me. “Leave it alone, Miriam. I’ll get them ready in a second.” I get up and look for their shoes. I don’t even know where Paisley keeps them, but I refuse to show Miriam that .

“I’m shocked to see you with them. What happened, your nanny had an afterschool dance and your aunt was too drunk to substitute ?”

At that, I give her a full-on glare. “Watch it .”

“Like I’m scared of you, Logan. Let’s go, Becca. Price, let’s go.” The kids don’t move. They stand there, affixed to the TV screen. “See why I don’t let them watch movies for longer than a few minutes? This is what you get. TV zombies .”

“Don’t crap on my time with them, Miriam. You do what you want with them, and I’ll do what I want.” On my way to look for shoes, Paisley comes out of the play room wearing glasses, book tucked under her arm, two sets of shoes in her hands. She treads carefully, knowing she’s entering what could easily become a battlefield .

“Hi, Miriam,” she says, giving my ex a curt nod, then quickly disappearing .

Miriam scoffs, takes the shoes from my hands, and calls the kids over to her. As if she’s the only person capable of dressing them correctly. In her mind, everything I do is wrong, I’m a terrible father, and any little thing I do becomes grounds for taking custody away from me .

Which is why the kids cling to my legs when it’s time to go .

I almost laugh in Miriam’s face, but that would make me a sore winner. “Look at me. Such a terrible dad that they don’t want to leave me .”

She rips them away amid tearful protests. “Don’t flatter yourself, Logan. They only do that because you finally spent time with them…for once.” And then she’s gone and I’m left wanting to rip the head off a rhino with my bare hands .

Paisley emerges from behind a corner and sidles up to the kitchen counter with today’s mail. “This came today. Sorry about Miriam .”

I ignore the mail. I don’t want to cope with bills, ads, or bad news of any kind right now. I just want to pull Paisley into my arms and kiss her. Kiss away the shit feelings, bring some normalcy back into my life. She doesn’t resist when I reach out for her, and she tastes delicious. I wish I could throw her onto the counter, spread her legs, and lick her to orgasm, but she’s got her keys in her hand .

“Do you have to go?” I kiss her earlobes and her neck. Even after a full day at work, dealing with my twin terrors, she still smells good to me .

“I have a hair appointment in my neighborhood in an hour .”

“But your hair is perfect the way it is.” It really is. I pull it out of its hold and spread it over her shoulders in soft waves. “I just need you, baby. Stay with me ?”

“You do?” she asks. There’s that thing again where she doesn’t believe me. Believe in herself .

“Yes. I need your smile, your body, your everything.” Kissing her deeply, I realize I’ve never quite said things like these to anyone before, not even Miriam when we were married. “Your sweetness, your snippy sarcasm at just the right moments. Everything about you, Paisley. You sure you can’t stay?” My hands are all over her, squeezing and feeling this woman who works so hard for me and puts up with all my shit .

“But I’m icky, Logan. I need a shower .”

“We’ll shower together. I don’t care.” I love when she’s in her natural state, and it scares the shit out of me that nothing will stop me from making it happen .

Because besides my kids, she’s the other reason I came home early .

I wanted to see her. Those eyes, that ass, that perfect smile. I wanted to see her all lit up in her element, working with kids, seeing how the twins interact with her—which was wonderful. She’s a good woman and yeah, she may end up being untrustworthy down the line like Miriam was, but that’s not here nor there, because I don’t plan on having a future with her .

I just want to spend time with her while she’s here .

“Please…” I cup her breasts underneath my palms, feel the small of her back arching into me, taste the sweetness of her mouth when her lips part under mine. “Stay .”

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