Page 99 of Nanny for the SEAL

The stillness starts to creep back into the room, but my brain is still a mess of jumbled memories and guilt. I could have killed Ivy tonight, and I did get Maeve killed.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I look down at Ivy; her breathing is already evening out. I know she’ll be asleep properly in just a few minutes. I’m really damn jealous of that.

Still, she’s here. Ivy is right next to me, and she’s holding my arm comfortably. I can trust her to be here for me when I need her.

Just like she knows I’ve gotherback.

It might actually…be time to tell her about all this. I fucking owe it to her, after all.

But that’s tomorrow’s problem.

I roll toward her, wrapping my body around hers. Closing my eyes, I let sleep come. If I wake up again, I know that Ivy will be right here.

THIRTY-FOUR

Ivy

“Momma, momma! My tummy!” Daisy yells for her little doll, and I hurry the taller Barbie over from the other room in the Dream House.

“Baby, are you sick?” Daisy says “uh-huh” for her doll. “Oh, no. Let’s get you to the doctor right away.”

We stand up and rush over to the couch. That’s where we’ve set up the medical station. Going through the same motions and questions we have been for about an hour now, I smile as the doll is all fixed up and ready to go.

Daisy and I have been playing the same game for so long now, but she’s not bored in the slightest. She keeps asking me, “One more time?”

Of course, I agree. I mean, not only is this my job, but I also adore playing with her. It makes me hopeful for the future, and I can see a bigger Daisy being the mom doll for her baby sister.

If I have a girl, that is. Hell, what does it matter? Whoever is growing inside there can play dolls with Daisy and have a blast.

It’s also been a few days since our dinner with Bridget and Mason, and I’ve been texting non-stop with Bridget. Our kiddos have guaranteed playdate buddies.

After a few more rounds, the reminder on the home smart device goes off, letting us know that it’s time for lunch. I’ve been trying to keep us both on a better schedule since it appears to help the nausea if I don’t wait too long to eat.

Daisy hops up to her feet, knowing this also means she gets a little TV time. “Unicorn Academy?”

I nod. “Sure thing, hun. Do you want mac’n’cheese or pizza?”

“Peanut butter and jelly,” she replies with a smile.

“Oh,” I raise my brows, “we’re changing things up? Okay. PB and J it is.”

I get her set up in the living room and start making her lunch. When the sandwich is all set, I present it to her with a cup of milk on the tiny tray she uses when we don’t eat at the table.

She munches happily as her show plays, and I fix myself some toast and a rolled-up tortilla with melted cheese inside it. It’s been my go-to lunch when nothing is sounding—or tasting—good.

When we’re both finished, I clean up our plates and we watch a bit longer to let us both digest. Then, it’s time for Daisy’s nap.

“Okay, kiddo. Do you have a buddy you want to bring with you?”

Part of our classic routine is choosing a stuffy from her bin down here. She brings it down with her in the morning, so there’s a constant rotation of fluffy animals acting as her sleeping buddies.

“No. No nap.” Daisy frowns, but she walks over to the bin to snag a toy—with a massive yawn stretching her face. “Dog.”

She takes the blue dog out of the bin. It’s very fluffy, with loose fur like a shag rug, and then holds her arms up for me to carry her upstairs.

It’s going to bum her out when I can’t do that anymore.

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