Page 37 of Billionaire Babysitter

I can’t talk myself out of it anymore. This is where I’m meant to be. It’s where I alwayshavebeen. But I guess I never really realized how much I needed him too.

I lie there in the stillness, taking in the light of the room, the way the summer air swims around us. The morning is just beginning and already it feels like a good day. Far down below groans the incessant noise of New York traffic, a constant hum of engines and horns. Up here, it sounds like a distant memory. We’re so high up that if it were to be any cloudier, it would look like there was a fog outside the window.

But eventually my bladder betrays me and I have to get up to use the bathroom. It pains me to leave Lucas’s warm, comfortable side, but as I tiptoe away, I let myself look at him and really drink him in. Look at the way his arms are flailed out across the sheets, the way that he’s clenched his fists like he's searching for my hand. The way his hair is ruffled and flopping into his face. How peaceful he looks.

I don’t want to disturb his sleep, so I pad out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind me.

It’s slightly later than I usually would get up, so I'm half-expecting the kids to already be up. But for a change, they’re nowhere to be seen, and I have the entire run of the kitchen and living room to myself.

In the bliss of my solitude, I let myself languish on the couch, reclining back and sticking my legs over the armrest. This thing is so comfortable. I sit and stare out of the huge skylight as the morning drifts by. There’s not a single cloud in the sky. All I can see for miles and miles above is the perfect blue of a summer morning.

Could I live like this? If he asked me to stay, could I accept this as my life?

I can’t think of very many people who would say no to six thousand square feet in New York. Not only that, but a cook, a cleaner, and a driver. All of those little everyday burdens taken away. Life would be so much easier like that, with the help of other people to handle all those menial tasks, the ones that sap you of energy. I could have so much time to do things I love.

I have to get a hold of myself. We had one night together. One really good night, but it was still one night. I've known Lucastwo-point-zero for about a week, and I've only accepted my feelings for him for a handful of days. I can't get ahead of myself and start thinking about stuff like moving in and settling down. I have a life I need to live. It’s something I’m determined to build. Even if he were to give me all the help in the world, I would still want to carve out my own path.

But it was a really good night. His hands. They’re so gentle, yet so strong, holding me like I was the most precious thing he’s ever held, touching me in ways I’ve never been touched before. I never realized that the brush of fingertips against your skin could feel so good. That a well-timed flick of the wrist and turn of the fingers can make you see stars.

A plane passes overhead, its contrails leaving white streaks across the perfect blue. I’m trying not to see it as symbolism. Flying into a new, wonderful day.

Breakfast. I’m going to make breakfast. Like a repayment for yesterday. Maybe not a repayment, exactly, but a sign that I believe in our newfound equality. I swing my legs back onto the floor and wander over to the kitchen.

Honestly, I’d take the kitchen without any of the other perks. The gorgeous marble surfaces and the luxurious amount of space, it’s anyone’s dream.

First, though, I decide to make sure the kids haven’t eaten each other in their sleep. The last thing I want is a riot spoiling my lovely morning. As quietly as I can, I open the door and stick my head around the door.

Chloe blinks at me and gives me a small wave. She’s reading in bed. “Hello,” she whispers.

“Morning,” I whisper back.

“The others are still asleep,” she hisses.

“I can see that. How do you feel about breakfast in bed?”

“Really?” she squeaks, slightly more loudly than she expected. She claps her hand over her mouth in realization.

“My treat,” I chuckle. “It’s nice to have a little treat day every now and again.”

“Thank you.” She grins before settling back into bed, picking up her book and going back to ignoring me.

My sense of contentment growing at the sight of the kids happy, I float back into the kitchen, feeling as light as the air. This must be what true happiness feels like; to be surrounded by people who care for you and to care for them back. I’m not sure I’d go so far as to saylove. But I think it could build to that. I think if we worked at it, we could turn it into love.

And that's a pleasant thought that lifts my heart too. Not wanting to let my imagination get away with me, I turn back to the task at hand. Pancakes, I think. That's perfect. Everyone loves pancakes, even if they can’t cook. I think we have some strawberries in the fridge as well. Strawberries and syrup and pancakes.

A perfect breakfast for a perfect day.

As I’m beating the eggs, Lucas stumbles into the kitchen. He’s thrown on a designer dressing gown that makes him look like an old Victorian man. I grin at the sight of it. “Good morning, you,” I say.

I throw some flour into the bowl as he wipes the sleep out of his eyes. “Morning,” he yawns. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a baby.”

He drags himself over to me and wraps his arms around my waist and kisses my neck. I giggle at the ticklish sensation of his lips, leaning back into him. The solid weight of his body holding me in this embrace is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It’s safe. Comforting. It’s something I’ve never, ever expected Lucas to be. And I can’t get enough of it. Now he’s let me into his human side, all I want is more.

“What are you making?” he asks, sticking his chin on my shoulder.

“Pancakes,” I say, trying not to laugh. I can’t see his expression but I can imagine the irritation and amusement without trying.

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