Page 39 of Protecting My Nanny

"Ms. Porter, we need you on set," a voice calls in the background.

"Shane, they're calling me back. I've got to go."

"Balina, you are incredible. Thank you."

"Good luck, Shane. Talk soon," she says before hanging up the phone.

I hang up the phone, Balina's words lingering in my mind.

The happiest couple I know... I only think briefly before Claire and Mark pop into my thoughts. I remember how anxious Claire was for me to meet him, how she fidgeted and stumbled over her words, trying to get everything just right. To this day, I wish I'd taken the time to know him better—to understand what kind of father he was to Jaime, what kind of husband he was to Claire. I wonder how it would've felt to have those family dinners, the kind where we'd all sit around the table, sharing stories and laughter.

But I was too caught up in work, too absorbed in cleaning up the mess left behind by Robert's deception.

That night, the idea hits me as I flip through an old photo album I found tucked away in the house. There's a picture of Jaime, Claire, and Mark standing around a grill with plates of burgers in their hands, their faces lit up with the biggest, most genuine smiles I've ever seen. The memory feels warm and inviting, like something I want to recreate.

I decide to fire up the grill for a poolside dinner. We start just as the sun dips below the horizon, casting the backyard in a soft, golden glow. Nicole insists on cooking the steaks, and honestly, I'm relieved. Cooking isn't exactly one of my talents. While she hovers over the grill, expertly flipping the meat, I set the table, the rhythmic sounds of R&B music playing softly in the background.

The smell of charred steaks fills the air, blending with the scent of chlorine from the pool. Jaime is nearby, his small hands busy with crayons, sketching away in his notebook. I walk over to Nicole, who's swaying to the music, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"That smells way better than anything I could've cooked," I say, stepping closer to her.

She laughs, a light sound that dances with the music. Then she turns to face me, her eyes sparkling in the golden light. "I could kiss you right now," she whispers, her voice playful. She glances over at Jaime, who's engrossed in his drawing, then looks back at me with a mischievous grin. "But I guess I'll wait till later."

"I'm looking forward to it," I reply with a grin, feeling the warmth spread through me.

Nicole turns her attention back to the grill, her movements fluid and confident. "This is great. Jaime seems really happy."

"Yeah," I nod, watching as Jaime hums along to the music, his pencil moving rhythmically across the page. "Claire and Mark used to have BBQs with him. I'm just happy it didn't trigger anything."

"Yeah, he's strong," she agrees, flipping a steak. "Did your parents do this kind of thing with you and Claire?"

"Nah," I say, shaking my head. "They had BBQs to entertain their friends, but just for us? Never. I guess I never told you, but we weren't ever really close. In fact, when I left home, we hardly talked after. They didn't really care to reach out or keep in touch, and I guess neither did I."

Nicole pauses, her eyes softening as she looks at me. "What about now? I mean, are they still... around?"

"Yeah, they're still around. I think about talking to them, but then I remember how they treated us as kids, and…"

"When's the last time you saw them?" she asks gently, her voice laced with genuine curiosity.

"Claire's funeral," I say quietly. "But I don't think we talked for more than a few minutes. Maybe it's better that way. What about you? Any especially good memories with your parents?"

Nicole's face goes blank for a moment, and then she smiles, though there's a touch of sadness in her eyes. "Tons, actually. My parents had their faults, but when it came to me and Giovanni, they tried to give us the world." She pauses, her eyes distant as if the memories are washing over her. I take a seat nearby and look up, giving her my full attention.

"I remember family time being the highlight of all our lives," she continues, her voice soft with nostalgia. "They lived and breathed for us, wanted us to have every experience in the world and be there to see us do them."

"It sounds wonderful," I say, and I mean it. I can't help but feel a pang of envy.

She looks down at me, her eyes searching mine with a hint of sadness. "I'm sorry, I just—"

"No, don't be sorry," I cut in gently. "It's the first time I've ever heard you talk about them. I'm enjoying it."

Nicole comes over and squats down beside me, taking my hand in hers. Her grip is warm and reassuring as she looks me in the eyes. "Shane, you should really consider making peace with them, or at least trying. Even if you think it's pointless or that they won't care, just try before it's too late."

I nod, the sincerity in her voice striking a chord. "I promise you I'll think about it," I say, genuinely meaning it.

She smiles, seemingly accepting it as good enough. "Now," she says, standing back up, "I think it's just about steak time." She turns back to the grill, the firelight dancing on her face.

The steaks are some of the most delicious I've ever had, and Jaime can't put his fork down, his little face full of pure joy as he devours his meal.

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