Page 91 of Mr. Wolfe's Nanny

Who knew my one-night stand would turn out to be the love of my life? Or that I’d marry the man who was once my boss?

Life is full of surprises, some good and some bad, but I’ll face them all with this man. And, I couldn’t be happier for it.

41- Theo

Epilogue

Asunny spring day beckons but I’m staring at it from the other side of my office’s patio doors. I can hear the children and Quinn laughing about something down by the tire swing. Marilyn keeps barking which is unusual for her. I’d bet my bottom dollar that Lord Sebastian (or one of his descendants) is back.

I turn back to the laptop but my heart’s not in it today. My heart struggles to be in it a lot of days even if I am proud of my company. I’d just rather play with my kids, ask my wife about her students or sneak away upstairs with her when we get the chance.

The phone rings and it’s my father. Distractions from work are welcome on pretty afternoons. “Hey, Dad. How’s Cabo?”

“Hot. When are the kids coming down again?”

I chuckle at his impatience. He knows exactly when his grandchildren are flying down with Mia and Jonathan to spend their break with him and Mom. “Six more days.”

“Good. You and Quinn deserve a little break for your anniversary, right? I’m thinking of taking them on a deep-sea fishing trip this time but your mother’s worried. What do you think?”

“Uh… Matteo’s three, Dad.” We’d named our son after Quinn’s father. “Not sure he’s ready for an all-day fishing expedition. Maybe you can take him to the marina to see the boats though. He’d love that.”

My youngest son loves anything motorized, including boats. As for fishing, I’ve taken him shore fishing out at my parents’ place but he was more interested in throwing pebbles into the water. Every splash earned an excited‘Oooooh!’from him. Hey, he’s three. You’d ‘oooooh,’ too.

My father concedes my point and tells me not to work too hard. My father, Michael Wolfe, telling me not to work too hard. What dimension is this?

The past few years have been busy ones but full of so much more joy than I could’ve ever guessed. We were married on the beach in Cabo nearly four years ago and Matteo was born here in early August.

When I say he was born here, I meanhere. At the house. Quinn didn’t want to have a hospital birth if it could be avoided. The last thing we wanted was any old trauma adding to her worries while giving birth.

She got her wish and I got… wow. I got not only our sweet little boy but that much more appreciation for my wife and women in general. Three beautiful babies I’ve watched enter this world and I’m not ashamed to tell you that I’ve cried every time I’ve been part of that. Even if I was relegated to the role of cheerleader for the most part.

I try to work a little longer today but it’s too nice out and the laughter of my loved ones keeps calling me like a siren’s song. I’ll go join them down by the tire swing and then maybe we’ll give Maria the night off and go have pizza or something.

I open the bottom drawer of my desk to stow some papers away and my hand brushes along the corner of a familiar picture frame. The old melancholy doesn’t pull me down the way it once would’ve. She should’ve lived a longer life but I know she’d want me to enjoy living mine.

“She loves our kids so much and she makes me so happy. I hope you know that,” I say quietly to that old photo.

I close the drawer and glance at the photograph of my wife currently on my desk. Quinn’s sitting by that infinity pool down in Cabo during our honeymoon. Her cheeks are flushed with laughter and her long, dark hair’s all loose and wild around her shoulders in the ocean breeze. I’m the only one who knows she was only wearing a thong when I took that picture, my naughty, sexy little wife.

Standing, I prepare to join my family but part of it’s joining me first. “Daddy! The skunk!” Jill cries, racing through the patio doors.

Ryder’s hard on her heels with a furious Matteo in his arms. “He got Marilyn, Dad! Mom told me to take Matteo and run to get you!”

So, that explains why Matteo’s upset. He loves the skunk and doesn’t understand yet why anyone would run away from it.

The unmistakable aroma starts to drift towards the house and I shoo my children further indoors, telling them to ask Maria for whatever tomato juice she has on hand so we can wash poor Marilyn in it. For such a smart dog, she can’t help being too curious for her own good, now and then.

I find my wife at the scene of the crime, holding her nose and holding her sides as she laughs.

“I doubt Marilyn thinks it’s funny.”

“Marilyn keeps rolling around on the grass trying to get the stink off.”

There’s no sign of the perpetrator and, when Quinn’s laughing, I can’t resist joining her. “Where did Mephitis mephitis run off to?”

“Back to his den, I’m sure. Oh, Theo… our poor girl,” she says sympathetically of Marilyn while still giggling.

I pull her close and sniff her down. “I think after we wash the dog, you could use a shower as well, Mrs. Wolfe.”

---