Page 40 of The Billionaire & the Nanny: Vol. 3

Logan

A mazingthe difference a couple of weeks makes .

Since she returned, Paisley has been staying in my room with me, waking up earlier than the kids do on the days they’re here and making sure they don’t see her sleeping with me. When I tell her it’s okay, they’re too young and won’t understand anyway, she insists it’s what’s right .

I love that she wants to do the right thing. I only wish I could go back to a completely normal life as quickly as possible, and having her with me every night and every morning, having the kids run into the room and pile on top of us would be a dream. Miriam used to get up out of bed as soon as they’d come in. At first I wasn’t sure why, but as time goes on, I realize it’s because she didn’t want them to see us together in an intimate way. In retrospect, she was always preparing for the separation .

But I try not to focus on the past or the things Miriam did .

Paisley’s back now, and she not only takes care of the kids, she cooks, she works on her business, she works out, and she basically kicks ass. The girl’s only twenty-two. I shudder to think what kind of world domination she’ll be working when she’s my age .

Today, we’re out of the house all together, because…we need it. The library project is kicking my ass, and we’re getting down to the wire. The blueprints go to the county in two weeks and then comes the waiting game. But for two weeks, I get to stress, yell at my team for not moving fast enough, all while balancing life and a girlfriend. A girlfriend…who knew ?

So, at my insistence, we ride up to Central Park with the kids. It’s a beautiful snowy day, a great day to be a kid. As soon as we hit a slope and clear area, we release the kids from their double stroller and let them wreak havoc on nature. Becca runs one way, and Pierce runs another, but they both shriek and fall over in the snow. I take pics, because even though half my brain is at the office, one day this will be nothing but a memory, and I’m going to wish the twins could be this little again .

“Daddy, look at me!” Becca picks up a giant ball of snow too big for her tiny hands and throws it at Paisley. It falls about three feet short, but she’s proud of herself and I am, too .

I pump my fist in the air, run up to her and scoop her in my arms. “Aw, you almost got her. You almost got the Paisley Monster .”

“Ya,” Becca laughs. “The Paisley Monster .”

I help her pack a nice wad of snow, show her how to aim at our smirky-smiling target, then launch the precipitation missile at Paisley. Even though the snowball is clearly headed wide right, Paisley feigns disorientation, runs in the direction of the snowball and takes the hit .

Becca laughs that giggly laugh I love .

“Oh! She’s down!” I cry out. “Repeat, the Paisley Monster is down!” Then, I wink at my gorgeous woman for taking the fall for the benefit of my daughter .

Clad in a purple parka, Paisley gets up and brushes snow off her jacket. “You got me, Becca. You got the Paisley Monster .”

“Yay!” Becca cheers for herself .

Paisley looks around. “Where’s Price ?”

“He’s over there, making a snow ferret,” I say, pointing to my son laying in two feet of snow .

“A snow ferret ?”

“Yeah, he’s moving one arm and one leg while sliding along the ground. See him?” Scooping Becca up into my arms, I stomp over the snow to where Price lies and take pics of him creating snake-like pathways in the fluffy white stuff .

Paisley sees Price and lets out a great belly laugh while holding her stomach. I love seeing her laughing so hard, those crinkle lines around her eyes that disappear when she smiles. I could easily envision her in a spring or summertime dress, flouncing around in the sun while I take pics of her, too .

I think of the sketch I keep in my drawer at the office. Need to add summery touches, something to reflect the sun …

“Should we get a snack?” Paisley asks after we’ve played in the snow for a good hour. “We could grab something nearby then they’ll be completely tuckered out and ready for a nap afterwards .”

“Sounds good to me .”

“How long can you stay?” Paisley asks, linking her arm through mine as we set off pushing the stroller through the park .

For a moment, I’ve forgotten her question. I’ve pulled out of myself and can’t help but see ourselves as an outsider would—a great-looking, happy couple with two kids who are equally happy, all of us spending time together the way a family would. How did this happen ?

I don’t know if to bask in how awesome that is or run away hard and fast .

Should I be thinking the f-word so easily like that? It’s one thing to hang out with Paisley and the kids so I can spend time with them as a respite from work, but it’s another when I start fantasizing that we’re a family. I just lost my own family, and here I am contemplating starting another ?

“Logan?” It’s Paisley, staring at me. Apparently, I’ve slowed down walking and she’s been talking to me about the new routine she’s implemented for the kids’ daily schedule. She’s asking my thoughts on the matter .

I have no thoughts. Because I was too busy imagining her as my wife and the stepmother of my kids, all of us together and content. Goosebumps run up my arms. Wife and stepmother? Where did that come from? I need Paisley, for the kids, for myself, and because I want to give her a good life away from that shoddy apartment. Saying I needed her was hard enough to admit, but could there really be a future for us beyond the average shelf-life of most relationships ?

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