Page 52 of Falling for the Nanny

There was no way to mistake her meaning. She knew. I shut off the water and looked at her. I expected to see judgment, consternation, maybe even a hint of arch amusement in her expression. To my surprise, I didn’t see any of those things. And that jolted me into a moment of unplanned honesty.

“Maybe.”

Francesca winced, which for her was only the faintest of wrinkling between her eyebrows. She shook her head. “David, you are my son, and I love you–”

That seemed like a good time to end this conversation. I dried my hands quickly and moved toward the hallway. “Francesca, you’re my mom and I love you, too. Tell Lily I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

“If you don’t find a way to make this right, I will disinherit you.” She followed me down the hallway, determined to finish her sentence.

She surprised a short laugh out of me. My mother had done very well for herself in real estate. She was no pauper. But the fortune I’d amassed rendered any inheritance unnecessary, and she knew it.

“I mean it,” she threatened. “I’ll leave it all to Davy, and I’ll leave strict instructions that he’s to live out the rest of his life in your personal care.”

“You’re going to outlive me and that dog,” I said, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Now mind your own damn business, Mom.”

She had been half joking before, but now she caught my arm. “David, I’m serious,” she said, looking me square in the eye. “You have to make this right with Catherine. She loves you, and I think you love her.”

I stilled at her words. “And you approve?”

Francesca rolled her gray-green eyes expressively. “Of course not. She’s far too good for you. You work too much and your taste in everything is questionable, but–” she pressed her lips together and her expression sobered. “I’m sorry, David. It’s a habit. Yes, I approve. You two deserve each other, and I mean that in the best way.”

No one was more surprised than me by how much her approval mattered.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said gruffly.

She let go of my arm and patted at her hair, as if a strand would dare fall out of place. “Oh, enough of this mushy stuff,” she said, reverting back. “Go get Catherine back. Do you need my diamond ring?”

I almost choked. “No, Mom. I think I’m going to start with convincing her to move in. I’ll spring the diamond on her later.”

I was half joking, but half not. As I got in my car and started in the direction of the restaurant she used to work at, I pictured the diamond ring my mother kept in the safe in the back of her closet. My grandmother’s ring, ironically, from her second husband. My mom hadn’t offered it when I told her I was going to propose to Chloe.

I hadn’t thought to ask.

I had a flash of sliding it onto Catherine’s finger–so crisp it almost seemed like a memory. Her blue eyes wide with surprise, brimming with tears. I blinked and the image was gone, but it had been there. As real as the ring in the safe.

Galvanized, I drove faster, getting to Lily’s favorite restaurant in record time. When I walked in, I hoped I’d see her at the bar. Not working behind it, but sitting at it, telling her best friend what had happened. The bar was empty though, and I didn’t recognize the bartender standing behind it, leaning against the case, looking bored.

“Hey,” I said crisply, striding between the empty tables. “Do you know a woman named Catherine Bowen?”

Startled, she straightened up. “Um, no, but I’m new here. Someone else might be able to help you.”

I glanced around impatiently.

“What about a woman named Alyssa?” I searched for her last name, but I couldn’t come up with it. “She was a bartender here,” I added.

The girl behind the bar, who didn’t look old enough to drink alcohol, much less mix and serve it, looked unnerved by my intensity. “I–I’ll go ask someone in the back.” She slipped out from behind the bar and disappeared into the kitchen, glancing over her shoulder at me with a combination of interest and concern.

I flattened my hands on the glossy wooden bar and grit my teeth. This was my one big move–if I couldn’t find someone here to help me, I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do next. Keeping things a secret between us meant that I didn’t know her friends or her family. I had nowhere else to turn if–

“Can I help you?” a sardonic, amused voice asked from behind me.

I turned around to see Jason–the waiter that Cat had dated casually. An on and off thing, she’d said. The last time I saw him, I wanted to punch his smug face in. Now I wanted to bear hug the asshole. If anyone could help me, it was him.

“I’m looking for–”

“Cat, yeah, I know.” He palmed the back of his neck and eyed me up and down, paying particular attention to my wingtip shoes and expensive watch. His lip curled. “Why?”

The last thing I wanted to do was to spill my guts to this scruffy, twentysomething guy who clearly wasn’t inclined to help me, but there was no other way.

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