Page 8 of Knot Just Their Nanny
“Work,” he grunts finally, not looking up. “Got to catch up on a lot of paperwork.”
I nod understandingly, setting out plates and butter for the toast that’s just popped up, golden brown and perfect. “Okay. Will that be here, or are you going out?”
He glances at me, a flicker of something indecipherable crossing his face before it settles back into that stern mask I’m getting to know all too well. “Here,” he says curtly, taking a sip of the steaming tea he just made.
As I spread butter on the toast, I think about that flicker I saw. Was it vulnerability? My omega instincts are itching to soothe him, to show him he doesn’t have to be strong all the time. But I tamp down those feelings. He’s not ready for that kind of comfort for this hurt yet—at least not from me.
“Okay,” I murmur, wishing he’d give mesomethingto work with. I slide a plate of toast over to him.
He glares at it like it’s poison, and I sigh. He is impossible!
But then he snatches it up and bites into it as he walks away, his mug in his other hand. Wonderful. What a great way to get him on my side by making him hate me even more.
I stand there for a moment, letting out a small, frustrated huff. It’s like navigating a minefield with this man. But as I glance at the empty space where he stood moments ago, I forgive him for being a dick. He’s like a locked door with no key in sight. But something tells me there are treasures behind that door; it’s not just stubborn pride and angst. There’s caring in him—I’ve seen it with Mia—and if I’m patient enough, I’ll see it directed somewhere else.
Shaking my head, I quickly eat my toast and tidy up, knowing Mia will probably be up soon and looking for her bottle.
A soft gurgling sound from the monitor alerts me, and I quickly wash my hands before heading back to the nursery. Mia is awake, wide-eyed and kicking her chubby legs.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I coo as I pick her up. She rewards me with more cute baby noises that melts anyremaining irritation from my encounter with Benjamin. I quickly make up a bottle with one hand while I keep hold of Mia. We settle into the comfy armchair, and she latches onto the bottle with gusto. It’s these moments, the quiet ones with Mia, that fill me with warmth.
As Mia sucks eagerly on her bottle, my thoughts stray to Benjamin again. Despite the rough edges to his attitude, there’s a tender side I witness only in his interactions with his daughter. I wonder if anyone else sees that side of him or if it’s locked away, accessible only by this tiny, innocent being.
Once Mia has her fill, I gently pat her back until a soft burp escapes her lips, and she nuzzles into my shoulder.
I lay Mia down in her cot again and stroke her forehead; she’s contented for now. Feeling brave—or perhaps I’m just being stupid—I decide to join Benjamin downstairs. Maybe if we’re in the same room without the pressure of conversation, his walls might lower just a bit.
Padding softly down the stairs in my slippers, I enter the living room, which has been turned into an impromptu office. Papers are scattered across the coffee table where Benjamin sits hunched over his laptop.
“Do you need anything?”
I curse myself for asking, but I can’t help it. It’s in my nature to nurture.
He glances up briefly, eyes narrowed behind his glasses, but he shakes his head curtly before returning his gaze to the screen. “No,” he mutters.
“Will you be going to the office tomorrow?”
He looks up at me with a frown. “Why do you ask?”
“Uhm, your mum said that you’d run out of paternity leave and were now on holiday leave. I’m here now. You can go back and do your work without worrying about Mia.”
Stop talking, Zara. You’re making it worse.
His gaze hardens, and I’m sure he’s about to lash out with a comment about not needing my permission to go back to work or something equally as prickly. But instead, he shocks me and sighs, the sound heavy like it’s been dragged from the depths of his soul.
“I know that,” he says, his voice softer than I expected. “I’ve been... adjusting. It’s not as simple as just going back.”
I nod, fighting the urge to step closer and offer more than just assistance. I want to offer comfort, but I know that’s not my place. “I understand,” I say, keeping my voice gentle. “If you need anything, I’m here, okay?” It seems that I need to constantly remind him I’m not going anywhere.
“Thanks,” he grumbles, turning back to his screen.
I take it as my cue to leave and retreat back to the kitchen, where I can be useful. Busy hands keep nosy thoughts at bay—or at least that’s what I tell myself as I start prepping for lunch.
Chapter 6
Zara
As I chop vegetables for a simple salad, my mind wanders back to Benjamin. His thank you, grunted though it was, felt like a small victory, a chink in his armour that was beginning to show. But it’s not about winning with him; it’s about understanding and being there for him and Mia.
