Page 61 of Nanny for the Damaged Ex-SEAL

I'm scared. For days I've been trying to steer myself away from the thought. But now, I can't run from it anymore. I pull my hair into a high ponytail, pick my coat off the chair, get my debit card, and leave for the drugstore around the corner.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm back at Bria's with a home pregnancy test kit. I put it on the dresser and stare at it. I'm probably just overreacting. I've been stressed and not been eating too well. Of course, my period will be late. Despite what I think, I rip the box open and take the kit out and go into the bathroom. I take my phone so I can time it.

Three excruciating minutes later, I'm staring at the lines on the stick. Double lines staring right back at me. My phone goes off. It's Jake. I hit ignore.

I turn my attention back to the stick. No way, no fucking way. I'm on the pill. No way I’m pregnant. I take the second stick out of the pack and go to the bathroom again. I wait five minutes this time. Maybe I checked the first one too early? But when I look, the double lines are there again.

I'm pregnant. I really am pregnant.

I sink to the floor of the bathroom with the stick in my hand. My life is over.

Chapter 22

Connor

Imisshersomuch. The house is empty without her. It’s so empty it seems to echo. Nothing makes sense anymore. Nothing is the same. I’ve tried everything I know to make things bearable, but things just keep getting worse. And I'm done staying away from her. I thought time would ease the pain. I thought with time things would get better. But my heart is crushed. It's pinned beneath a heavy weight. A weight I can’t shift. I wonder how I'm even still breathing. I never wanted things to end this way. I thought we'd spend the rest of our lives together. I thought we'd be able to keep it a secret until we could think of a way for it to land better.

If only I’d kept my hands to myself at the party. If only I'd not been so damn horny. If only I'd waited for just a few more hours. If only we'd locked the bathroom door. So many mistakes. So many wrong choices. If I could go back, I would, just to make things better. Just to have her in my arms again. To hear that intoxicating laugh of hers. To come back home to her infectious energy. I'm tired of being sad, but I can't help it. I'm tired of slogging around the house. I'm tired of longing for someone I can’t have.

It's my day off. When she was still here, on days like these, if she was on her day off too, we'd be home cuddling or cooking or reading a book together or playing games. But today, I'm alone. Alone with my thoughts. I reach for my phone and scroll down to her number. I still haven't mustered the courage to delete it. I don't think I ever will. I stare at it for a long minute while Amy's last words play in my mind.

I drop the phone.

I haven't seen Amy since her birthday. I haven’t seen Charles either. I tried calling them, but I got no answer. Which brings me down even further. It makes me realize that even if Aria and I choose to be together, it still wouldn’t work, because I'd need the acceptance of Amy and her dad. I need their blessing. It could never work without that.

Why can't I be with her? The only crime I am guilty of—the only crime we are guilty of—is falling in love. I wonder if she's still in love with me. It's been weeks and not once did she try to contact me. Has she forgotten about me? I pick up my phone again and scroll down to her number. My thumb lingers over it for a while. My heart is torn in multiple directions, but I tap on the call button and listen to it ring. I'm waiting, hoping, waiting for her voice on the other end, but it only rings and rings till it stops on its own.

I tap on it again and listen. With each ring, my hope dwindles. After trying four different times, I let the phone fall out of my hand. It bounces before lying flat. I need to say something to her. I don't want her to think I’ve forgotten her. I don't want her to think I've moved on. I want her to know that, even though we can’t be together, I'm still thinking about her. I snatch my phone up and type a message. I read it more than ten times before tapping send.

I wait to see if a reply will come, but my phone remains silent in my hand.

"Do you want to wear these or those?" I ask Ethan as I point to the two pairs of shoes in front of us.

He points to the one on the right—a black leather sandal with silver buckles.

I slide the shoes on his feet and buckle them up.

"Too tight," he complains.

I loosen them to make them slacker. "Better now?"

He nods and jumps off his bed.

I haven't even been thinking about getting a new nanny. I don't need a new nanny. It's not been easy, but I've been doing it all on my own. I couldn’t bear seeing someone do what Aria did. I don't think anyone could measure up to her. And I doubt Ethan would take to anyone else. He's been asking for her. The night we came home without her, he had a million and one questions about where she was. Some days he doesn't ask, and I think he's forgotten about her, then the next day he asks again. It breaks my heart. It makes me miss her more. So, when he doesn't ask, I feel a sense of relief.

"Cereal or waffles?" I ask as we descend the stairs.

"Noodles."

We don't have much time, but I get to making it. While he eats, I pack up his lunch box, and soon we're out. Traffic is exceptionally heavy today. I tap my fingers on the steering wheel while we wait for things to clear up.

"When is Aria coming back?" he asks out of the blue. He hasn’t asked for a week until now.

I’ve just lifted my finger to tap on the steering wheel, but the question freezes it in the air. I can't tell him she's never coming back. I can't tell him that he might never see her again. I can’t tell him that she’s gone for good. I lower my finger for one last unconscious tap.

"Soon," I reply. And it hurts my heart that I'm lying to him. I could be prolonging his pain, or he could forget eventually. The last thought doesn't seem to be the case, because he's been consistent in asking.

"Soon," I repeat.

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