Page 5 of Misery In Me

She just blinks up at me, innocent as hell, like she’s got no clue what’s coming next.

I shake my head, chuckling despite myself. This wasn’t exactly how I pictured fatherhood going. But it’s mine now. Allof it. And if I’m gonna survive this, I’m going to need a lot more than just baby wipes and diapers.

Can you buy sanity at Costco, because I’m gonna need that shit in bulk.

I sigh, grabbing a burp cloth from the drawer and wiping myself off as best I can. “You’re lucky you’re cute, kid,” I mutter, pulling her out of the wet diaper with a little more confidence. “Otherwise, I’d be losing my shit right now.”

I get the new diaper on her quickly, and just like that, she’s done. Quiet again. Unfazed.

A grin spreads across my face as I look down at her, she’s a real cutie. I’m not gonna lie. I’m still a little overwhelmed by the whole thing. But there’s something about this little girl, something that makes the messes, the stress, and the sleepless nights I know I’m gonna have more bearable.

I’m completely lost and have no clue what I’m supposed to be doing. But for the first time, I think I’m starting to understand what it means to simply exist in the moment.

And if that means getting peed on in the middle of the night? Well, then that’s the price of admission.

I lean down, kissing her tiny forehead as she drifts off to sleep again, unaware of the mess we’re both in. I look at her and let out another deep breath, wiping my damp hands again with the cloth.

“Alright, Zoe Jane. Let’s see if we can get through the next twenty-four hours without another disaster, yeah?”

I get the feeling we’re both going to be learning a lot along the way.

My life wassimple before all of this. I had my team, my deployments, and my duty. Everything fit into neat little compartments, everything under my control. But now? Now I have a baby.

I swallow hard, looking down at Zoe’s tiny face in the little baby swing Victor’s wife dropped off. She’s asleep—thankfully—and I still can’t quite believe she’s mine or that I’m the one who has to care for her. There’s no handbook for this. No guidelines for how to raise a kid when all you know is the grind of military life, when you’ve spent more time training for combat than you have learning how to soothe a crying infant.

I shake my head, running a hand over my face as I drop onto the couch.

The thought stings, but it’s the truth. I’ve been avoiding it, telling myself I can manage and that I’ll figure it out. But there’s no way. I’ve got missions lined up, deployments on the horizon, and a million responsibilities that don’t just disappear because I’ve got a kid now.

She’s going to need someone else. Someone who knows what they’re doing.

I lean forward, grabbing my phone off the coffee table. Time to call the nanny services I looked up last night. I’ve heard good things about them, and they have a ton of qualified nannies on staff. There’s just one problem.

Trust.

I’ve never been the type to rely on anyone. I’m used to doing things myself—doing things the military way, where everything is methodical and controlled. There’s no room for mistakes when lives are on the line. But this isn’t a battlefield. It’s my daughter’s well-being. And I’m not about to trust just anyone with that.

I mean, her own mother just dropped her off in the middle of the night. What if I hadn’t been home? If I ever see her again,the woman better have the best fucking excuse in the world for leaving my daughter and not even giving me the common courtesy of knowing that she was pregnant.

I scroll through the listings of nannies that the agency sent me, looking at their resumes and their references. I barely even read the profiles—just skim the qualifications before moving on to the next one. They all seem... fine. But fine isn’t enough when it comes to Zoe. I need someone who’s more than qualified. Someone I can trust with my kid.

I stop on one particular application.

Alejandra Orozco.

The name catches my attention.

Her resume is solid—experience with children, references from previous employers who speak highly of her, a list of certifications, and a background check that comes back clear. Everything checks out. And then there’s the part where it says she’s bilingual. English and Spanish. My Spanish is rusty, but it would be great for Zoe to have a second language growing up. I speak pretty decent Farsi and Pashto, having been in the middle east for a few tours. Spanish would get her further here though.

I hesitate for a moment, then pick up the phone.

“This is Gage Donovan,” I say when she answers, keeping my voice low and professional. I don’t want to sound too eager, even though I’m kind of desperate at this point. “You applied for the nanny position I posted. I’d like to set up a face-to-face interview.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end of the line, then her voice comes through—soft, calm, and surprisingly clear for someone who’s probably just woken up. She must’ve been expecting this call.

“Of course, sir,” she replies, her accent a bit thick but pleasant. “I’d be happy to come for an interview. When would be a good time for you?”

“Today, if you can make it.” I can already feel the tightness in my chest, the knot forming as I realize I don’t know the first thing about how to run an interview. “I’ll give you the address. Can you be here at 1500 hours?”

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