Page 99 of Diamond Angel

She nods. “Second floor. Third room on your right. If it’s any consolation, the nanny seems nice. She knows what she’s doing.”

“I couldn’t possibly care less,” I mutter under my breath as I make my way upstairs.

The whole way there, I wonder if Taylor willingly agreed to a nanny or if Celine cajoled her into one. Somehow, I find the latter more likely.

Adam is sitting cross-legged on the carpet, surrounded by toy blocks, trying to fit two pieces together with his face screwed up in fierce concentration.

His nanny is sitting a few feet away from him, watching carefully as he toils. She’s younger than I expected, probably late thirties or early forties, with blond hair swept back in a neat braid.

“Uncle Illy!” Adam calls when he spots me. “You came to see my new room?”

The nanny jumps to her feet. “Hello, sir.”

I survey her. She’s wearing white linen overalls, wrinkled from where she was kneeling on the floor. She looks perfectly nice. Perfectly normal. “You must be Edna?”

The woman nods. “And you must be Adam’s father?”

A “yes” is on the tip of my tongue,—and then Adam beats me to the punch. “Ilarion’s not my papa,” he interrupts. “He’s my uncle.”

I grit my teeth and pretend like that didn’t just rip my heart from my chest. I give the nanny a tight smile. “That’s me.”

“Ah. Miss Celine’s husband.”

I nod. “Something like that. Why don’t you go take a break?” I tell her, desperate to be rid of the woman. “I can take it from here.”

She looks a little uncertain. “Well…”

“I’m sure,” I say dismissively. “Go on.”

She hesitates. Her eyes flicker to Adam as though she expects him to ask her to stay, but when he ignores her and continues playing with his blocks, she gives me an awkward nod and slips out of the nursery.

I join Adam on the carpet. “What are you building?”

“A big tower,” he says. “The kind that Rapunzel lives in.”

“Great idea. I’ll help.”

We get to work. I watch him as we go. He has a habit of sticking out his tongue to the side when he’s concentrating. His eyebrows scrunch together like mine do and his eyes squint into thin blue slits.

When the door whooshes open, I’m the only one who notices. I’m about to tell the nanny to fuck off for a while longer when I notice a sheath of dark hair swish into view.

I catch her eyes and she freezes, already halfway back out the door. That’s when Adam notices her, too.

“Mama! Come and help me build my tower!”

“Oh, that’s okay, baby. You’re playing with Uncle Illy.”

“But I want you to help!” he says. “Please, Mama?”

I can see her face fold. Like me, this kid has her in the palm of his hand. She bites back her reluctance and plasters a smile on her face. “Of course, sweetheart. I’ll help you.”

She steps cautiously into the room and finds a spot on Adam’s free side, skirting as far away from me as possible. Of course, that puts us directly in front of each other. She glances up at me, notices that, and her lips curve down.

“Mama, make this part,” Adam says, pushing a bunch of red blocks her way. “Uncle Illy, you can do this side.”

We work in silence for a while. Adam’s concentration never wavers as he presses pieces together and the tower begins to rise up from the carpet. I laugh when he starts humming under his breath as he works. I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it.

Taylor laughs, too. I look up at her, and it’s somewhere in this bizarre moment when our smiles collide that I realize that Adam might be the one thing we can actually compromise on. I may not have known the boy for long, but I would die for him. A part of me knew that truth from the moment I knew of his existence, back when he was nothing but a tiny little peanut in Taylor’s stomach.

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