her had been immediate . . . and strong.
So strong that I’d tried to hide it by insulting her during the interview. But Olivia rose to the challenge and effectively put me in my place. It was impressive, knowing she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by me.
But nothing could have prepared me for this past week. Watching her with my son has done nothing but make me want her more. With her quiet patience and sweet demeanor, Ryder’s behavior has improved so much. Most importantly, he’s happy. I’ve never seen my son smile more than he has these past few days.
Until today, when he thought she was gone for good.
Restraining my son so that he couldn’t do any more damage to the house or to himself had been, without question, the most heart wrenching experience of my life. Ryder would cry one minute and yell her name the next, and each shrill scream caused my heart to splinter just a little more.
Then—like an angel—Olivia walked in, and all was right in his world.
Watching him cling to her was an eye-opening experience for me. I’d failed my son in so many ways, but the worst was by not providing him with a loving mother. Natasha had never held our son and rocked him to sleep—not even when he was a baby. Ryder needed a mother who loved him. Someone who would quiet his tears. Someone who would let him play and eat and act like a little boy.
Someone like Olivia.
With a groan, I bury my head in my hands. We almost kissed tonight. Maybe it would have led to more. Maybe it wouldn’t have. The fact is . . . it can’t. For one thing, I’m still married. But most importantly, Ryder has to come first. Always. I can’t complicate the situation by falling for his nanny.
It can’t happen.
I won’t let it.
Someone gently knocks on my door, and I know it’s her.
“Come in.”
Olivia opens the door slightly. “I . . . umm . . . just wanted to let you know he’s asleep.”
“He’s okay?”
“Just a bad dream.”
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Thank you for checking on him. And for . . . well, for everything.”
With a nod, she steps inside and closes the door behind her. I remain silent as she sits down in a chair. Fear grips me as I brace myself, waiting for her to say she’s reconsidered, and that her suitcase is packed. It would serve me right, but it would also destroy my son.
“Jackson, I think we need to talk.” Her voice shakes slightly—the only indication that she’s nervous. “If this is going to work, I think we need to establish some . . . limits.”
She’s so brave, drawing her own lines in the sand.
“Olivia, I owe you an apology.”
“You don’t. Nothing happened.”
“But it could’ve. And it can’t.”
“You’re right, of course. Do you think . . . maybe we were just caught up in the moment? You’ve had such an emotionally draining day. We both have.”
It would be easy to blame my lapse of judgment on this dreadful day. But does she really believe that? Or is she trying to convince herself—and me—that we hadn’t felt a thing?
“Is that what you think?” I ask.
Olivia’s face flickers with emotion before she settles her gaze on her hands in her lap.
“Maybe.”
Maybe. The word hangs in the air, just waiting for me to grab it and hold on for dear life. To agree that maybe it didn’t mean anything. That maybe we were just overwhelmed and looking for any small amount of comfort we could find.
Maybe is a gift. A life raft. A chance to save my son from drowning.
I take it.
“Maybe so,” I whisper.
Does she believe me? I have no idea. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she stays.
“I want to stay,” she says, reading my mind.
“Good. Because we want you to stay.”
She nods and slowly rises from her chair.
“Goodnight, Jackson.”
“Goodnight.”
Lost in thought and unable to sleep, I head to the living room and sit down at the piano. I lift the cover and let my fingers drift softly across the keys, hoping the music will relax my troubled mind.
It’s been a horrible day.
It’s been a horrible summer.
Most husbands would’ve been humiliated when their wife suddenly packed her bags and walked out the door.
But not this husband. I’d felt nothing but relief.
Natasha and I started dating our junior year of high school. We weren’t the most likely of high school hookups, considering I was a complete