Page 26 of Knocking up his Nanny

CHAPTER 17

SPRUCE

Ifinally get home, after a week of traveling, and it’s late at night. I am not sure how I’m going to tell June the truth, but I’ve decided that I’m sick of this. I need to tell her.

First of all, I go to greet the twins, but they are not in their beds. For a moment, I panic. Then I see my housekeeper walking nearby.

“Mathilde, where are the girls?”

The old woman shrugs and smiles. “They are glued to their new nanny at the hip. Where did you find that woman? I swear, she’s like magic for those little demons. She must shit rainbows.”

“But where are they, Mathilde?”

“Check the Nanny’s quarters.”

I frown, and head down the stairs in that direction. I notice that the door is already ajar, and I push it further open gently. I am greeted by the most beautiful sight. June has fallen asleep in the center of the bed, with a book open on her stomach. On either side of her are my Hazel and Holly, snuggled up peacefully. I stand here, watching in amazement, and it’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.

How could I get so lucky, and find the woman that was the best suited in the universe, to raising my little hellions?

I wish that I could walk into that room and join them. Kiss all of their foreheads and snuggle up beside them. My girls.

But I can’t. Not yet.

Still, I stand here and stare for a moment longer, just staring at June’s face. I want to go to her so badly, and touch her. I never should have concealed so much from her.

But if I went over there now, she would probably be startled and shocked and upset. She would probably feel lied to, tricked, and enraged. It might start a fight. I don’t want to ruin this peaceful and perfect moment, and turn their restful night into something traumatic and scary. I would understand if June wanted to yell at me, and I probably deserve it. Just not in front of the girls. I step back and slowly shut the door.

Well, I really messed this up.

I hope she doesn’t hate me.

I’ll have to figure out a way to make it up to her.

* * *

It’s earlyin the morning, and I’ve asked Mathilde to help me cook a great breakfast feast for June and the girls. Complete with smiley-face bacon and eggs, which always make my daughters giggle, and their favorite blueberry pancakes. I am sure the delicious aroma is wafting over to the nanny’s quarters, which are not too far from the kitchen.

I’m a bit nervous, but I somehow have hope that it will all be okay.

Mathilde keeps sending me suspicious glances.

“What is going on with you, sir?” she finally asks. “You seem… strange.”

“I feel strange,” I tell her, with a small laugh. “I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

“Then why the heck did you ask me to cook all this bacon?”

“We can’t have smiley faces without bacon, can we?” I demand.

“I suppose not,” she answers, confused.

Finally, June walks into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She’s half-asleep, and shuffling her feet. “Good morning, Mathilde,” she says tiredly, without opening her eyes. “That smells delicious. I’m so sleepy. I need coffee.”

She shuffles over to the coffeemaker, and reaches for the handle awkwardly, while still rubbing her eyes. She looks so adorable in her nightgown and bunny slippers, that I can’t resist walking over to her and putting a fresh cup of coffee in her hand.

“Thank you,” she says, putting the coffee to her lips and drinking half of it before she realizes who gave it to her. Then she gasps, and nearly shoots the coffee out of her nose. “You!” she sputters.

I can’t help chuckling at her predicament. “Me,” I respond.

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