Page 136 of The Nanny and the Nerd
He pictured his brother, and instantly, he knew the answer.
“He’d want her to be happy. I want her to be happy.”
It was the God’s honest truth.
His mother patted his hand. “Answered like a true parent.”
Rowen shook his head. “I could never take Andrew’s place, Mom.”
His mother’s eyes shined with tears. “He wouldn’t expect that from you.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” he asked. When it came to tech, he had the answers. But when it came to this, to the messy mash of competing emotions, he was all thumbs.
“Make your own place in her life as her uncle, Rowen. That’s the thing about love,” she continued. “Uncle, father, friend, guardian…it has no limits. Your title doesn’t matter. What Phoebe will remember is your love.”
He nodded to appease her. She wanted to help. And God knows the Gales had done more for him than anyone. But he wasn’t convinced he had the ability to love—not after what he’d done to Penelope.
Madelyn glanced past his shoulder, then shared a knowing look with his mother and Mrs. Sullivan. “Ladies, our work is done here. It’s time for us to go.”
He bolted upright. “That’s it?” he asked the nanny matchmaker. “You’re not going to yell at me for screwing up with Penelope? You’re not upset that I ruined your match?”
“I don’t need to scold you, Rowen. No one can be harder on you than you are on yourself,” Madelyn answered, coming to her feet. “I stand by all my matches. And remember, Rowen, a lot can happen in seven days.”
His jaw dropped. Did he miss something?
It would have been easier if they had laid into him! Couldn’t they see what a mess he was? Clearly not! Casually, as if leaving a garden party and not a session that involved twisting him inside out, Mrs. Sullivan pushed his mother’s wheelchair as the women strolled down the path to a small parking lot. He watched them disappear behind a cluster of oaks. He slumped forward, then scanned the playground, looking for his niece. Phoebe had abandoned the swings and now dangled from the monkey bars.
Between being bombarded by the guys and then blitzed by a trio of wise women, he felt like the tech mogul version of a punching bag. He rested his head in his hands, damn near ready to pass out from exhaustion, when a crusty voice caught his attention.
“You look like shit, kid,” Chuck said, then settled into the seat across from him.
Jesus! Was there a revolving door in his life? Would his first-grade teacher be next?
Rowen looked up. “That makes sense because I sure feel like shit.”
“I couldn’t help but hear your conversation. Those people care about you. And they weren’t wrong,” the man continued, his bushy beard obscuring his lips.
“Oh yeah?” he asked, studying the empty wooden domino box.
“I saw it, too—weeks ago. The minute your nanny walked by, you were done for. Sometimes it happens that way.”
“She’s not mine,” he answered for what felt like the millionth time.
Chuck flicked his gaze to the playground and observed Phoebe. The men watched as his niece hung suspended on the monkey bars. She scrunched her face in concentration, reaching for the next bar. Her fingertips brushed against it. But she couldn’t grasp it. One second stretched to five, then to ten before she swung forward and caught hold of the final bar.
“The kid doesn’t give up. She reminds me of you.” Chuck said, switching gears. Unfortunately, this topic change didn’t unburden his heart any less.
“Why would you say that, Chuck? Sure, we play dominoes and talk. But you don’t know me,” he shot back. He didn’t mean to be an ass, but he’d hit his emotional limit.
“I know you think love is a weakness. You think you’re in control without it. But you’re not. You’re scared. That’s what’s holding you back,” the man said.
“And what am I scared of?” Rowen asked. He’d gotten an earful from his mother, Madelyn, and Mrs. Sullivan. He might as well have a listen to what Chuck had to say.
Chuck leaned in. “You’re terrified of trusting yourself. It’s easy to close yourself off. The challenge is opening up.”
Rowen rubbed his temples, then slipped his glasses back in place. “I can tell you this. I can’t trust myself—not when it comes to love. If you haven’t noticed, I’m a little different from most people. I’m built to write code and run tech companies. I’m not built to love anyone.”
“I’d beg to differ. You love that little girl,” Chuck countered.
