Page 65 of The Nanny Goal

Alexei may be the only man who ever made me feel seen. But at what cost? And what would I have to give up to call that attentionminein a real way?

He’s also the only man who has ever broken my heart, and I’m not going to let him do it again.

Distance.

I need to maintain some friendly but professional distance.

* * *

After breakfast, we meet up with Becca and Charlie at the playground at the end of Alexei’s street. Becca brings coffee for us and apple slices for the kids, and we stay there for two glorious hours.

Inessa is so tuckered out, she wants to be carried all the way home, which definitely feels like my workout for the day.

She is very agreeable to her nap, which delights me, so while she’s asleep, I search TikTok for other ideas to tire out toddlers, and any other babysitting tricks the internet wants to give me.

By the time she wakes up, I have a plan.

First tactic I test out is a single location outing. According to multiple TikToks I saw, trying to run more than one errand at a time is the danger zone. But a single outing can be fun, especially if it includes a chance to run around.

My target is the grocery store, so I make sure that I put a few snacks in the diaper bag and Inessa has a cup of milk and some toast before we leave the house. The specific tip I like the most is to scout out a spot in the parking lot where your toddler can play for a bit after you finish shopping. I park in a spot at the edge of the lot, next to a couple of carefully placed landscaping boulders, and I take Inessa out of the car on the far side of them, so she doesn’t see them yet.

I buckle her into the shopping cart, and power shop like a pro.

It’s not until we get to the checkout that she starts to whine, because the cart is no longer moving—so that’s when I bust out the snacks.

Apple sauce.

Animal crackers.

A sippy cup of water.

And when we survive, and the groceries are in the back of the car, I show Inessa the giant rocks and she climbs on them until her little cheeks are bright red.

It’s the high point of the day, though. By the time we get home, she’s over tired and hungry, the apple sauce and crackers not quite enough, but she also can’t tell me what she wants for dinner. I make her some toast, since that seems safe, and she eats that and watches videos of Alexei on my phone while I quickly prep some basic stuff to cook in the oven—chicken, roast veggies, meatloaf.

Then I wipe her hands and face, and we collapse on the couch.

“That was a good day, right?”

She snuggles in against me, pressing her ear to my chest, and I take that as a yes.

I text a photo of her to her dad, and he calls back immediately.

“Hi,” he says as soon as we answer. He’s wearing a suit, no tie, and his dress shirt is unbuttoned at the neck. It doesn’t look like he’s shaved since he left yesterday, and the pop of dark stubble against the pale skin on his jaw is…distracting.

Inessa grabs the phone and babbles a question in Russian.

“Where am I?” he repeats in English. “I’m at a restaurant.” His gaze flicks my way, and I ignore the jolt of awareness that slices through me. “Team dinner.”

“Nice,” I murmur.

“What are you two having for dinner?”

“Toast,” Inessa says solemnly.

Alexei laughs. “Good listening, little one.”

“Toast was our first dinner, yeah.” I yawn. “I’m batch cooking some other stuff now, but it may all go in the fridge and freezer.”

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