Page 54 of Protecting My Nanny

He nods, eager for the adventure. "Okay! I'll get dressed!" Jaime bolts upstairs. His excitement and energy move me, providing a brief respite from the turmoil in my head.

As I grab my phone again, I see nothing but unanswered calls. No texts. No signs of life from Nicole. I sigh, running my hand through my hair, and try to focus on Jaime. The least I can do is make this day good for him.

We leave Frankie's around 10, breakfast sandwiches in hand. I try to enjoy the simplicity of it—just me and Jaime, walking to the ferry, watching boats glide across the water. But my mind is elsewhere, always coming back to Nicole.

As we step onto the ferry, my phone buzzes. A text from Nicole. My heart skips as I open it, but her words crush me instantly:

I'm sorry, Shane. Take care of Jaime. You two are all that matter now.

I stare at the message, the world blurring around me. "What the hell are you doing, Nicole?" I whisper to myself.

Jaime looks up at me as we sit down on the ferry, unwrapping his sandwich. "Is Nicole coming?"

I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "She... she had to go take care of her family, bud. She might be gone for a while."

"How long?" Jaime asks, his brow furrowed.

"I don't know, buddy. Could be short, could be long," I say honestly. "But... she left you a letter." I pull the envelope from my pocket and hand it to him.

Jaime's eyes widen as he takes the letter, opening it carefully. He reads it in silence, then folds it neatly before slipping it into his pocket.

"Why didn't she just say goodbye?" he asks.

It's a question I anticipated. "She was in a hurry, bud."

"Oh," he says, half-heartedly.

"Check out the jet skis," I say quickly, trying to change the subject as I point out to them.

"Cool," Jaime says.

He doesn't ask any more questions, and I'm grateful for it.

We walk the market street in the city, stopping at little shops and stands. I calm down a bit, watching Jaime distract himself with the sights and sounds. I keep trying to convince myself that she left for the money, that she never really cared. And given her situation, I can't blame her. Maybe she saw Shane Matthews as an easy target—a man with a billion-dollar empire and a weakness for her. But even as I think it, I know it's not true. It's just anger talking, the thought that she's given up on us simmering beneath the surface.

We have lunch at an Italian restaurant on the pier, but I can barely taste the food. Jaime chatters about the boats, the market, and school—doing a good job filling the silence between us. I nod along, giving him half-hearted responses.

By the time we get home, I'm emotionally and physically exhausted. Jaime runs to the living room to play video games while I head to the bathroom. As soon as I close the door behind me, the weight of everything hits me like a wave. The anger, the sadness, the sense of betrayal. It all crashes down, and for the first time in years, I break. Tears spill down my face as I sink to the floor, my hands gripping the sides of the sink. I haven't cried like this since Claire's death. I thought I'd gotten past this—this feeling of loss, of abandonment. But Nicole broke something in me I didn't even know was fragile.

I don't know how long I sit there, letting the tears fall, letting the anger and sadness burn through me. It feels like a release, like I'm purging something. When it's over, when the tears dry up and the sobs die down, all that's left is a hollow ache, a cold, empty feeling of loss.

And then, something shifts. A revelation, sharp and clear, settles in my mind: No more. I can't do this again. I'm not built for it. Letting anyone get this close to me again was a mistake—only Jaime deserves that space. My focus needs to be on him, on what truly matters. He's the only one who deserves my attention now, the only one I can't afford to lose. Nicole? She was just like everyone else—someone I couldn't trust. The thoughts spill over me like affirmations, familiar and comforting, like the colder, more focused version of myself I'd left behind is rising to the surface again—the one who kept his walls high, who didn't let anyone in.

But even as I tell myself these things, I know deep down it's just my fury talking. A part of me clings to the warmth Nicole brought into my life, the healing and positivity she managed to stir in me. That part isn't gone—at least, not yet. I know Nicole is in trouble somewhere in the corners of my mind. I know she probably needs my help. But there's nothing more I can do. I've pleaded. I've begged for her to let me in, to let me help her, for months. This was her decision, and no matter how much I want to chase after her, I have to accept it.

I tell myself I need that bit of coldness now. I need to protect myself, to shield Jaime from the chaos that keeps creeping into our lives. It's time to let the walls come back up.

Days pass, and the impact of Nicole's disappearance fills our daily lives. Jaime keeps asking me to call her, but I'm forced to make excuses each time, like she's busy or has found a new job and is working nights. But I know he's not buying it anymore.

A few nights after, during dinner, Jaime fusses over his vegetables, refusing to eat them. His attitude has taken a turn since she's left, and though I've tried to maintain it, so has mine.

"Uncle Shane, I ate vegetables at lunch today. Why do I have to eat them again? Why don't you just give me all the vegetables for one day at one time?"

My patience snaps. "Just eat your damn vegetables, Jaime!" I yell, louder than I intended. His eyes fill with tears, and my heart sinks instantly.

"I miss Nicole!" Jaime cries, pushing his plate away. "She never yelled at me like this."

His words cut deep, and I realize I have to do something—for Jaime, if not for myself.

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