Page 63 of The Billionaire's One-Night Stand Nanny
“Morning,” he said, still not looking at me. It was probably good he didn’t, I thought. I didn’t know how I could bear to see his warm eyes gone cold and hard. Or worse.Sad. “Be good, Maddie,” he said, dropping a kiss on her head as one hand squeezed her slim shoulder. She shrugged him away.
“Bye, Dad,” she mumbled, more focused on her magazine and her breakfast than him.
“Sewing today?” I asked after he left and Maddie had finished her English muffin. She looked up with a nod and a smile.
Ryan’ssmile. It lanced through me.
This was going to hurt more than I’d expected.
* * *
The week passed like that. I’d known I had to tell him, but I hadn’t been prepared for how it felt, returning to his home after… after us. I went to the park with Maddie, had our sewing lessons, trying to hold myself together. I couldn’t let Maddie see my hurt. It wasn’t fair to her. Or Ryan. I’d promised him: Maddie wouldn’t know. She couldn’t. The distance from Ryan hurt. The distance I felt from Maddie wasunexpectedlypainful. By Friday afternoon, the pit in my stomach yawned wide.
Ryan was in the foyer, unexpectedly home by the time Ms. Talford arrived. His voice was warm and pleasant as the three of them spoke, Maddie’s high and excited. I could hear her mom’s light laughter in response. Ryan was always so friendly with his ex, kind and caring and generous, just as he was with Maddie. With me. With his last girlfriend, probably, and his next one.
“...fun on your date,” Tally said. I fumbled the keys, and they landed on the hardwood floor of the kitchen with a loud jangle. “I hear you have reservations at Mignon. Lucky you.” I knelt to pick the keys up automatically, but couldn’t force myself to do it, instead staring at the four-leaf clover keychain.Lucky you.
I grabbed the keychain, shoving it into my bag–Ryan was here, he could lock up himself–and went through to the foyer.
“See you Monday,” I said to Maddie, smiling. “We’ll finish your project.”
She frowned unexpectedly, looking from me to her father. I couldn’t help but follow her gaze. As soon as I saw his expression, I wished I hadn’t: his emotions were written all over her face, blatantly obvious in his questioning brows, his apologetic grimace, the pain in his brown eyes.
“Have a great weekend, Mr. Walker,” I said pointedly. “Ms. Talford.” The woman smiled, apparently oblivious to the tension in the room, and why wouldn’t she be? I was the nanny. I’d told her so myself, hadn’t I? It wasn’t quite three months, but it felt like eons ago. “See you next week.”
I forced myself to walk slowly, first over to the door, then down the steps of the brownstone.
The black car was waiting for me. I closed my eyes for a second against the unexpected sting.
I knocked on the front passenger side window instead of opening the rear door, and it rolled down instantly.
“Miss Connelly?” Daniel asked, his face impassive but for a small twitch of his brows. I dragged my smile tighter.
“Hi,” I said. “I don’t need a ride today.”
“Yes, Miss.” He nodded.
“And…” I said. “And next week, too. You don’t need to pick me up anymore.”
He nodded again, but frowned. “Mr. Walker…”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Please. I know it’s an inconvenience, going all the way to Brooklyn and back.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure you have better things to do.”
“I–”
“Thank you, though,” I added. “For… your–”What, discretion?For the times he’d picked me up as the nanny, then seen me not twelve hours later dressed up like a date? For the times I was sure he’d heard me, just a little too loud over the traffic noise and the quiet radio?
God, what had I beendoingfor the past three months?I could feel the sob working its way up from my lungs to my throat, threatening to escape.
“For the rides. Thanks.” I turned and fled down the street, walking quickly.
He’d seen me in my casual clothes and in my date night best.
But he wouldn’t see me cry.
I cried, anonymous and alone, on the subway instead.
* * *
