Page 42 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie
Keith glares at James who raises his glass in mock cheer.
The banter dies down, and I take a long sip of my beer. “Anyway, speaking of struggles…, I’m dealing with a nanny situation.”
Jason raises a brow. “What happened to the last one?”
“She quit,” I say, rubbing my temples. “And now I’m trying to find someone new. Had two potential nannies meet the kids yesterday, and let’s just say… It didn't go well. The kids weren’t having it, no matter what they tried. Stuck to me or my mum throughout. Technically, they don’t like them.”
“That’s rough.”
“I know.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Keith says, then says, half-joking, "Maybe you should ask Whitney."
I blink, caught off guard. "What did you say?"
He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. "Maybe you could ask Whitney. I mean, I don’t think she is up to much now that she’s at home. And she is good with the kids judging from last time."
I stare at him. "Are you serious?"
Keith grins. "Not really. But hey, it’s an option. If you’re gonna pay her really, really well. I mean, double or triple the amount you plan on paying the other nannies you interviewed."
"Yeah, no," I say quickly. "Forget it."
The guys chuckle, and the conversation shifts.
But the idea lingers longer than I’d like.
We drift back into our usual banter, the hours slipping by like they always do when we’re together. By the time we’re ready to leave, it’s close to 8.00 p.m. Liam left 30 minutes earlier to be with Hazel.
And as I head home, my mind keeps circling back to what Keith said.
Whitney as a nanny?
No. Definitely not.
But as days went on, my options dwindled. Every nanny I interviewed just didn’t click with the kids. No matter how qualified the candidates were, none of them made it past the first meeting.
Each time, Keith’s suggestion came back to him.Whitney.
Despite every reservation screaming in my head, I realize Whitney might actually be the best solution - for my kids. They like her. They miss her.
And if I’m being honest? So, do I.
Asking her to come back into my life, even just as a nanny, feels like opening a door I’m not sure I will want to close again.
But desperate times, right?
So here I am, standing outside her house, debating if this is the worst idea I’m pursuing.
Before I can overthink it any further, I knock.
The door swung open.
Whitney stood there, blinking at me in surprise. She is in leggings and an oversized sweater, her hair in a loose ponytail. Comfortable.
“Blake?” Her brows furrowed. “What are you doing here?”
I clench my jaw.
