Page 9 of Nanny for the Damaged Ex-SEAL

"I like you, Aria," he states.

"Aww. I like you too, Ethan." I say, and genuinely mean it. I imagine that if I eventually decide to have a son of my own, he'll be like Ethan. Which is most likely never happening because, well, I'm heartbroken and uninterested in romantic love. I hug him; he smells of pineapple and strawberry mixed with his dad’s cologne. Then I see his father marching toward us, the usual stern expression plastered to his face.

"Uh oh," I murmur.

Ethan turns and sighs like an old man. "I was only playing with Aria, Daddy."

I rub his shoulder. "It's fine. We'll have plenty of time to play, okay?"

Ethan nods as his dad takes his hand. Connor shoots me a look of contempt that lingers for a minute too long, then pulls him away.

“Jeez, lighten up. You're not the only one with problems,”I mumble to myself.

He turns back. "I heard that. I may not be the only one with problems, but I ask you to respect my wishes and stay away from my son."

"No, Daddy!" Ethan protests as Connor pulls him away.

Chapter 4

Connor

It'smydayoff.I got in touch with an au pair company and was informed they'd be sending two nannies today for me to interview. If I happen not to like either, they'll send two more tomorrow. I'm not familiar with stuff like this. Cassy was the one who’d hired our former nanny. Dani was the perfect nanny. Attentive, energetic, honest, and she genuinely loved Ethan. All I can do is pray I'm lucky enough to find someone who's even a fraction of what she was to my family. I need someone responsible and who loves her job. Someone I can trust with Ethan.

I flip through the stack of photos before me. There’s one of me, Cassy, Dani, and Ethan. He was smaller in the picture, in his mother’s arms, an open-mouth smile on his face. I drop the picture and pick up another one. A picture of Dani and Ethan. I drop it and pick up one with just him and Cassy. I let out a shaky sigh as I stare into her eyes. It's still so unreal that she isn't here. I'd thought we’d do this life thing together. The dreams I had about us going to Ethan’s graduation, the dreams of us smiling at his wedding reception—none of those dreams are going to happen now. Her black hair hung around her shoulders, her brown eyes shone bright with her laughter. Her arms are around Ethan's tummy, pulling him in as he laughs too. I remember this day. It was a Saturday and I took the picture. Ethan had farted just as I’d clicked the camera. Which explains their wide-eyed laughter.

When I met Cassy, I was already in the military. I'd not had much time for women. I'd dated here and there. Nothing serious. The longest relationship I’d been in before her was only four months, so it can easily be said she was the great love of my life. When I met her, I knew something was different. She wasn’t taken by my looks like other women. She was unaffected. I had to work to get her attention, something I'd never had to do before. We met at a party after one of my missions; she was there to celebrate with her cousin. I caught sight of her from across the room and I was instantly hooked. Her cousin ended up dying a year later. But by then we were already in a serious relationship.

I was gradually nearing the end of my career and I needed to settle down. I wanted to start a family of my own. I wasn't going on as many missions as I used to. It was the perfect time. We got married and, after a year of trying to get pregnant, we had Ethan. It was one of the happiest days of my life. We had our own baby. We were building a life together. And then she got sick.

When I feel my emotions bubbling up, I drop the photo, and before I can avert my eyes, they fix on another picture of Cassy, a gaunt Cassy. I look away quickly and begin to gather the photos when the doorbell sounds. That must be the person from the au pair agency. I leave the pictures scattered on the table and jog down the stairs. I open the front door to a woman who looks like she's in her thirties. She has brown hair that is cut short with bangs on her forehead and has on a simple mid-length dress. Or maybe she’s in her forties. I'm not sure.

"From the au pair company?"

"Yes, Mr. Brunt."

"Come on in,” I say, swinging the door to broaden the entry.

She steps in with papers in her hands. I assume it's her credentials. She sits timidly on the edge of a chair. I signal for her papers and she hands them over.

After a few seconds, I look up to her glancing around. "Marie, right? It says here that you've been working as a nanny for five years?"

She nods. "Yes, five years and seven months."

"Almost six years."

"Almost."

"Why did you leave your last job?" I question as I continue to read through.

"The family moved away.”

I nod. “How long ago?"

“A month ago."

"Your resume looks good. What's the youngest child you’ve cared for?"

She smiles as she answers. "A six-day old baby. I'm good with kids."

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