His Secret Love by Ava Ryan

14

Skye

“Becca?”I say the next night, when the kids and I hit the lobby in Jake’s building after grabbing a post-dinner gelato treat at the shop down the street. The past twenty-four hours have not been the greatest of my life, to be honest. Jake and I retreated to our separate bedrooms last night. I, for one, tossed and turned as though my mattress springs had been secretly replaced with porcupine quills. The two of us barely exchanged words this morning, and I filled up the rest of the day with my morose thoughts. At this point, I’m more than ready to get the kids into bed, grab some wine and decompress before Jake comes home. Thank God he’s got a late surgery today and won’t be home for a while yet. “You want to push the button?”

“Nope,” she says, holding her hands in stickup position. “It’s Charlie’s turn.”

“That’s okay,” Charlie tells his sister. “You can.”

Becca shrugs and hits the up button.

I blink and take a closer look at these two. I find the lack of exclamation points in Charlie’s tone to be every bit as unsettling as the sudden cooperation between these two warring factions. I don’t expect a water buffalo and a pride of lionesses to join each other for drinks down at the watering hole any more than I expect Becca and Charlie to break into an unprompted version of “Kumbaya.”

“What’s gotten into you two?” I ask.

“I’m having a glum day today,” Becca says.

“A glum day?” I ask, trying not to smile, especially now that her chin seems to have developed a slight wobble.

“My teacher says it’s okay to have a glum day sometimes,” she says.

“Oh, okay,” I say. “That makes sense. But the gelato didn’t help?”

Becca tips her head to the side and thinks this over. “It helped a little. But not all the way.”

“Oh,” I say.

“Daddy was glum this morning,” Becca adds. “So it’s not just me.”

“I’m glum!” Charlie says with a huge grin.

“See?” Becca says.

I do see.

The elevator dings just then, and we all trudge aboard. Leaning against the back wall while Charlie presses the button, I surrender to both peer pressure and my own dark thoughts.

Glum.

That’s a decent description of the way I felt when I was alone in my room last night, for many reasons.

For example? Marlene comes home tomorrow after several trip extensions. Her return marks the end of the summer. Grumpy Nanny will replace me soon. Which means that my days with the kids are limited.

As are my days with Jake.

Jake.

As I told him last night, I needed the reminder of my place in his life, which could best be described as small and dwindling fast. He’s never mentioned any sort of a future between the two of us. We’re not in a committed relationship. For all I know, he may still be active on dating apps like the one where we met. All of which means that the clock is ticking on our sexy idyll, and I’d better start recalibrating my brain for regular life. That wretched place where I’ll be trying to map out a career of some sort and desperately searching for an interim job in the meantime every day, doing my best to remember that the Quinn clan is not my family and never will be. Pretending that spending my nights alone on my best friend’s sofa isn’t a pathetic comedown after all the time I’ve spent in Jake’s bed.

He wasn’t there with me last night. I guess that was good practice for the future.

Last night.

I handled things badly. I know I did. But I wasn’t sure what else to do. I thought I heard him in the hallway outside my room once or twice and had to fight the urge to open the door and find out for sure. But I did the right thing and sheltered in place, giving myself a single moment of pride in this entire mess. I guess the only good thing I can say for myself is that once my self-protective instincts kicked in, they really kicked in.

I had one job on the emotional front this whole time. All I had to do in exchange for hooking up with Jake was to protect myself by remembering one simple fact—namely that he and his family are not for me. All I had to do was remember that I’m an employee. A brief visitor in their lives.

Onejob.

And I truly fucked it up.

In my defense, I thought I was doing a reasonable job of keeping my head on straight. Not great, but not abysmal. Until last night, when I experienced that toxic mixture of shame and awkwardness when Jake’s mom showed up unexpectedly. I’m supposed to be a strong and sexually liberated woman, and I’ll probably never see her again, so it shouldn’t matter what she may have thought about me. But I was excited to meet her. Excited to see what she’s like and discover what kind of woman raised such an exceptional man. I didn’t want her to notice that my nipples were still hard and my cheeks probably flushed from having sex with her son up against the console three minutes before she arrived. What if she’d arrived earlier? What if she’d heard me moaning like an adult film star?

And Jake…

He didn’t want me to go to dinner with them. He’s ashamed of me. Ashamed of our situation, which is such a cliché that it belongs in a romance novel. A divorced single dad like Jake isn’t in the market for a serious new relationship. I’ve known that all along. And if he is, it’ll damn sure never be with the nanny, of all people. Hell, Marlene even warned me early on that his hookups only last ten minutes. But did I listen to her words of wisdom and experience? Of course not.

Yet here I am, nursing strong feelings for him and sick at the idea of leaving him and his kids when my job ends. You’d think I’m a British convict setting off to colonize Australia, cast off, never to be seen or heard from again. I spent the whole evening alone in my room, feeling as ostracized as the geeky middle school girl who doesn’t get invited to the popular girl’s birthday slumber party. What kind of idiot expects to be invited? Why did I let that hurt my feelings? I’ve been pretending to be a confident woman with no expectations for nearly three months now. Why can’t I actually be one in real life? What the hell is wrong with me?

Yep. Glum about covers it. Because I am a F-O-O-L. And there’s no denying it.

“Okay, guys,” I say, taking their hands when the doors slide open and setting off. “No running down the hall this time. We need to practice good manners for when your mom comes back tomorrow.”

“We know,” Becca says.

“Are you excited to see her after so long?” I ask brightly. “That’ll cheer you up.”

“That’s why we’re glum!” Charlie says.

“What?” I say, startled.

“Yeah,” Becca says as I open the apartment door and we all stream inside. “She’s bitchy.”

My entire body recoils over the use of language like that from such a sweet little mouth, but I catch myself before I overreact. I wasn’t born yesterday. I know the kids often say things for shock value and to test boundaries. Let’s hope this is one of those times.

“We don’t use that word,” I say coolly. “I never want to hear that from you again.”

“Why not?” Becca asks without missing a beat. “It’s the right word to use.”

So much for not overreacting. “Becca!”

“Why is she even bothering to come home at all?” Becca says, but she seems more baffled than wounded. “She doesn’t even care that little kids need their mom.”

What the hell do I say to that?

“I have an idea!” Charlie grabs my hand again and gives it a tug as he looks up at me. “Maybe you can teach her to be nice to us, Skye!”

Whoa. And the hits just keep on coming. God knows I’m no fan of Marlene either, but my heart still breaks a little for her and her kids. As someone who grew up without a mother, I certainly know how important they are.

“Look, guys,” I say, steering them over to the sofa. Becca’s little shoulders seem as tense as I feel. “Take a seat. We need to have a talk.”

“No talking,” Becca says with open disgust, flopping back and staring up at the ceiling. “We’re tired.”

“This’ll be quick.” I reach out and scoop them in, one against each side. Maybe they don’t need a snuggle right now, but I sure do. “Different people have different personalities. And they show love in different ways. Okay? Your mom shows love by working hard and making a lot of money so you can live in this great apartment. And wear great clothes and shoes. And go to an expensive school that everybody can’t afford. She does all that because she really loves you. Grunt if you understand me.”

The kids mutter something indistinct.

“I love you guys too, but I don’t buy you stuff like your mom does,” I continue. “Know why?”

“You don’t have any money!” Charlie cries, laughing.

“Exactly,” I say ruefully. “How do I show love?”

“Hugs and giggles!” Charlie says.

“Hugs and giggles,” I say, leaning in to shower him with kisses. Charlie submits, screeching happily. But when I turn to Becca, her little body remains stiff and resistant. I can’t say I blame her. I’m not sure I believe me either. “Becca? Can I have a hug, please? I really need it.”

Becca hesitates. Then she sort of flops forward against me, allowing me to give her a big hug and kiss. I hang on for as long as possible, until the gathering tightness in my throat makes me feel as though tears are imminent.

“Okay, guys,” I say, turning her loose at last. “Bath time.”

I manage to keep my emotions in check for the rest of our bedtime routine. I even get them tucked in and turn out the lights. But then Charlie re-emerges just as I’m settling on the sofa with a glass of wine. He’s got his jammies on, his stuffed animal tucked under his chin.

And I know I’m in trouble.

“Who’s going to hug and giggle us after school when Grumpy Nanny comes, Skye?” he asks, his voice wavering.

I clear my throat and get all my would-be tears blinked back.

“We’ll have to get that figured out, buddy. Come on.”

I return him to bed with an extra hug and cup of water. Then I return to the living room, where I consume half a bottle of wine by myself. By the time Jake arrives home about an hour later, my mind is made up and my resolve is hardened.

Time for me to put my big-girl panties on and extricate myself from this unhealthy situation. I need to do the right thing for all of us. No matter how much it hurts.

“Hey,” he says, watching me warily as he comes closer.

“Hey,” I say. “How was your day?”

He seems glum and tired as he sits next to me, the hollows under his eyes hinting at a sleepless night and a long day today.

“Better now.”

This is the point where we’d normally fall into each other’s arms, but we both seem to know that’s not going to happen tonight.

“No kiss for me?” he asks.

Looking into his face while also seeing all that quiet vulnerability suddenly becomes impossible, so I point to the coffee table instead.

“I poured you some wine.”

“Oh,” he says, and there’s no missing the disappointment in his voice. “Am I going to need it?”

“I need it,” I say, trying to smile and discovering, too late, that my mouth has forgotten how.

His jaw tightens. He takes his glass, drains it in a couple of hard gulps and sets it down again.

I open my mouth with no idea where to begin.

“I just think that—”

“Don’t say it, Skye. Let me go first. Please.”

“There’s no point.”

“There is a point.” He blows out a breath and runs a hand through his hair. “I know I screwed up last night with my mother. I’m sorry about that. I never want you to feel used or that I’m embarrassed to be with you.”

“I do, though.”

“The secrecy was your idea, Skye.”

I can’t stop a bitter laugh. “And what a brilliant idea it was,” I say. “I kept my job, but now I feel like a snake and an idiot.”

“I’m sorry that you feel either of those things. I wish you didn’t. I sure don’t feel that way.”

His sudden urgency is a nice touch, but I remain unconvinced.

“Even though our entire relationship has been a secret, you mean?” I say. “Even though we’ve never gone anywhere together in public and your ex-wife doesn’t know about us and your kids don’t know about us?”

He grimaces. “That’s all true, but I’ve given you the wrong impression.”

“Oh. Okay. Do I have the wrong impression about you planning to keep things casual between us?” I ask quietly.

Something crosses over his expression. I don’t know how to describe it other than to say it reminds me of the panicked look shooting victims get in suspense movies when they realize they’ve got a bright red bead on their chest.

“Planned, yeah. I’m not sure where we are now, though.” He hesitates, producing his words with great care. “It’s just that… I don’t know. I felt awkward with my mother. I knew she’d pick up on the vibes between us. And you and I are in this weird in-between situation. I just… I’m not sure how we handle things going forward.”

“I am,” I say, clinging to my dwindling resolve. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Marlene’s coming back tomorrow, and I’ll need to put my uniform back on and go back to being her nanny. The fall’s over.”

“And…?” he asks sharply.

“And…” The words creep out slowly, as though they were surgically attached to the inside of my mouth. “I think it’s time for us to acknowledge that our relationship has run its course. That’ll be easier on everyone. Especially the kids.”

He stares at me, silent and expressionless for so long that I begin to wonder if he heard what I said.

“So…you don’t want to see me anymore?” he finally asks.

I hesitate. “This isn’t about what I want—”

He frowns. “Your personal life isn’t about what you want?”

“—it’s about dealing with the facts on the ground.”

“Which are what, exactly, Skye?”

“Marlene is coming back. The new nanny will be starting soon, and I’ll be out. I don’t want to create an unhealthy situation for the kids. Or for me. I’m very attached to them. This is going to be hard enough already. It’s not like Marlene is going to grant me visitation rights. Plus, they need to bond with their mother. The kids and I talked about that earlier. They seemed very ambivalent about her coming back. Things will be easier once we make a clean break and I’m completely out of the picture.”

“Wow,” he says, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “Noble.”

“Noble?”I say, stung. “I love the kids. I want what’s best for them.”

“And I don’t?”

“Of course you do,” I say, my temper beginning to rise. “I just think you may be temporarily blinded by your nanny-with-benefits situation.”

He flinches as vivid color rises up his neck and settles in his cheeks. “And what is that, exactly, pray tell?”

His sudden unmistakable anger catches me by surprise. “Sex on demand with the younger nanny, with no strings and no questions asked.”

We stare at each other long and hard, hostility beginning to seethe between us.

“I see,” he says, his voice deadly quiet and controlled. “Now you’re accusing me of taking advantage of my authority over you?”

The implication startles me. “What? No. Of course not. That’s not it at all.”

“Then what is it? And let’s leave the kids out of the equation this time.”

I hastily look away, unnerved by that penetrating intensity of his. It’s so much easier to make the kids the headline and skip over the fact that I’ve been naïve and foolish enough to develop real feelings for a guy who’s been up front about enjoying a casual situation and nothing more.

“I’ve wasted this whole time—”

“Wasted?”

“—and I haven’t figured out my career situation. I still don’t have my life together.”

“Who does at your age?”

I can’t hold back a derisive snort. “Well, anyone who won’t be sleeping on her best friend’s sofa for the foreseeable future is a big step ahead in my book.”

“Great,” he says tightly. “So you can’t see me anymore because of my kids and your lack of a satisfactory career. Am I getting that right? Any other excuses?”

“Jake…”

“Maybe now you can answer my original question. Because I don’t think you and I are done with each other. I don’t think we’re done at all. I want to keep seeing you. But if you don’t feel the same, say the word.”

I shift uncomfortably. I run a hand through my hair. I continue to stare across the room.

But I don’t say the word.

“Skye,” he says, his voice softening. “What’s going on here?”

The unexpected tenderness really gets to me and makes my chest ache as I turn my head and meet his gaze again. His expression is steady and warm. Encouraging and patient, as though he’s prepared to stay here all night to solve this tricky issue and get us back in bed together, where we belong. Much as I’d like to continue putting on this brave-girl front, I belatedly discover that I can’t. It’s late. I’m tired. I’m heartsick. He seems like he really cares. And I’ve had just enough wine to convince me that telling him my real issue is a good idea.

“I have to protect myself here,” I say.

“From me?”

“Especially from you. I don’t have a career. I’ve never been married. Never had kids. But you’ve been there, done that. All of that.” I pause to clear my throat and blink back a rogue tear or two as they start to burn my eyes. “You should get your head out of your ass and start paying attention. Because while you’ve been having a no-strings affair with the nanny, I’ve been falling in love with you.”

“Skye.”

“Don’t,” I say, leaning away when he reaches for me. “I know what you want and what you don’t want. This doesn’t have to get complicated. I’m not going to make a whole big scene. But if you care anything about me at all, you need to let me go. I mean really let me go. Don’t send me any mixed signals. Because I can’t invest any more time in your family. I need to focus on myself and figure out how to make my own dreams come true.”

I hastily stand and turn away from his stricken face, determined to make my exit before I lose my battle with these embarrassing tears that refuse to stay hidden.