Page 11

Lillian

___________

A s soon as Morgan leaves the room, I slide to the floor and let the tears fall. My body is shaking uncontrollably, I have no idea why the hell I would tell him any of that.

He must think I’m a basket case, too much drama, trauma, and insanity to be around his children. Right?

Oh gosh, now he’s going to fire me, isn’t he? I just need to plaster a smile on my face and be normal, show him that none of it bothers me, even if I itch to pick up the phone and call Betty every fucking day.

It breaks my heart that her children pushed me out of her life, all because they don’t think I’m entitled to a penny of her money. I’m not, I never even wanted any of it.

They never adopted me so nothing of hers is mine legally, unless I’m in the will or her power of attorney. The latter I know I’m not, Francis was still listed as her POA, but it automatically went to her children after he passed away.

I never cared about her things, I just wanted her. Her voice, how she held my hand, cooked for me, held me when I screamed, thrashed, and cried out in my sleep every night. She was my comfort, my safe space.

She and Francis saved me, literally saved me from myself, my nightmares, and living in a group home. Gosh I haven’t talked about them in a long time, not since I left college and my therapist. Even Mackenzie knows to not bring them up.

I haven’t talked about my first adoptive parents since my first year of college, then I told my therapist I’m done talking about them or I would be walking away, probably from school, too, if she kept pushing. Thankfully, she listened.

I let the comforting smells of my casserole empty out my thoughts and my panic. They can’t hurt me ever again, not after what else was found in their house, their unpermitted basement. Their storage units.

Child pornography, murder, fraud, and embezzlement is just touching the surface of their crimes. And then selling me was the final nail in the coffin that set everything else in motion. They’re in prison for the rest of their lives with no parole.

Someone from the prison finds my number or address every few years and asks if I would like to speak to them. I tell them to fuck off, go to hell, and to never contract me again. Not that they listen.

I can’t get over how much I told Morgan.

Not even my best friend Mackenzie got that much out of me so quickly, and I’ve known her since my first day at the middle school Betty and Francis enrolled me in.

Then we found out that same day that we lived on the same street, and the rest was history.

She brought me out of my shell, while I kept her out of trouble. Or at least tried to.

Look how well that turned out. I became a teacher, now a nanny, who apparently has issues not lusting after her bosses, and she’s a sought-after dancer in Las Vegas.

I stand up, washing my hands before I check on the casseroles and set the timer. I head out through the sliding glass door, closing it softly behind me and sitting outside staring out at the lake.

I can’t believe this is my life now. I was basically homeless, then moved thousands of miles away from my life. I lived in a crappy apartment and now I’m here, in a mansion overlooking a gorgeous blue lake.

I’m… happy. I feel fulfilled while taking care of the girls. Cooking and cleaning.

Their gorgeous father is just a teaser of the dessert that I’ll never get to eat. He’s my boss, he’s going through a divorce. Trying to figure out fatherhood, balancing his career, and being a single father.

I sigh as I chew on my lip and stare up at the sky, watching as the sun turns the backyard a dark shade of orange, darker every minute as it sets.

The backyard is one of the most tranquil places I’ve ever stepped foot in.

Morgan has a massive lot with plenty of trees on all sides, blocking the views from the other houses.

Plenty of grass, shade, and places to sit.

There’s a gate at the back of the lot, where the grass meets a few feet of sand. Then the lake.

It might be man-made or something, but it looks peaceful. Not many people have been out riding their toys and making waves that come crashing through the gate.

I feel blessed for being able to live here, even if it’s temporary.

_______________

After dinner we all settle down in the living room, letting Avery choose what movie she wants to watch.

She’s been talking non-stop about getting back to school to see her friends and wants to try out in their gymnastics program this year, along with a book club, chess club, and a STEM program that meets twice a week.

Holy moly, Morgan was not kidding, also what crazy ass school does he send her to? It must cost a fortune.

I fall asleep halfway through the movie, waking up when Morgan shakes my shoulder. “Hey, all three girls fell asleep and I got them in bed… I hope that’s okay.”

I snort and sit up, rubbing my eyes with the palms of my hands. “You’re their father, Morgan. Of course it’s okay. I’m sorry for falling asleep.”

He shrugs and holds out his hand to help me up off of the comfortable couch. I feel like I can just lay back down and go to sleep. For forever. Why is every piece of furniture he has so damn comfortable?

I place my cold hand in his, and hold myself back from holding onto him longer.

I thank him and head down the hall towards my bedroom, stumbling to my bed after I close the door, removing my clothes along the way.

I curl up in my bed and close my eyes, basking in the warm and soft bedding, dreaming of dark hazel eyes and a smirk on a gorgeous face.

I’m screwed.

____________

The weeks pass by so effortlessly, Avery is loving school and we set up a large calendar that is posted in the kitchen with all of her daily activities. She decided to hold off on the chess club at least.

She went to an orientation and said she didn’t like it. So she has book club, gymnastics, and STEM. I pick her up at four o’clock from school every day and she talks non-stop about her friends and birthday parties she’s been invited to.

She also wants to try out a new hairstyle almost every day. Thank goodness for the internet and tutorial videos. I can barely braid my own hair.

Nessa, I sigh, poor Nessa. She really despises school. Luckily I ordered a million different workbooks, flash cards, sticker books, and a massive white board that she has a blast with marking all over.

So far, so good. She knows the alphabet, and her numbers up to twenty, but gets distracted when we work on shapes, colors, and writing.

She also falls asleep when I read to her.

It’s going to be a long ride. I’ll most likely keep her home until she heads off to Kindergarten, if Morgan agrees.

Luckily their requirements aren’t too awful.

Tilly is just a sweetheart. We’ve been working on potty training, coloring, singing, and she knows most of the alphabet.

She counts to ten, and she knows the common shapes and colors.

Other than ‘homeschooling’ we spend our days baking, walking around the neighborhood, playing in the yard, and driving to the park.

I grocery shop on days that Morgan is home.

Everything else, I just order online and have it shipped to the house.

I don’t know anyone here to really ever go out anyway.

I also don’t mind the girls having a more low-key life until Morgan gives the all-clear once his divorce is final and the paparazzi leave him alone.

I now have a mini library in my closet, more clothes than I know what to do with, and my debt is dwindling with this insane salary.

I’ve been doing a lot of online shopping, buying everything I was never able to before.

Even stuff as simple as moderate skin care products, a hair straightener, and a good hair dryer.

I don’t know how long this all will last, so I’m also saving up like crazy.

The more time Morgan and I spend together on nights that he’s home is making my walls shake and want to crumble down. We mostly talk about the kids, meal planning, and what shows he wants to start watching. Nothing personal.

No hockey. Nothing flirtatious. Nothing like what I’ve been dreaming of every damn night.

Pre-season started this week and Morgan said that the games go on too late for the girls, but he set the TV up on the correct channel for me to watch before he left earlier. The girls are all huddled around me on the couch, snacks in their laps, and blankets curled around us.

“I’ve been to a few of dad’s games. They’re loud and intense… the guys always seem to get hurt, too.” I frown at Avery and scoot her closer, wrapping my arm around her shoulders.

“There are doctors and medics at the games, right? I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s been training so hard these last few weeks. And the construction starts on the home gym next week so that he can become stronger and faster on the ice, right?”

She chuckles and leans her head against me. “Yeah… Just wait ‘til you watch him play. He’s so fast, it’s hard to keep up with. He’s a center forward.” I frown as I look up the different hockey positions before the game starts on my phone.

There are six men on the ice for each team. Three forwards - left, center, and right. Two defensemen, and the goalie. Then there are all of the different plays, penalties… Periods. The different ‘lines’. They’re called strings in football. I’ll try to remember that.

The announcers begin their spiels. The guys are playing some team in Canada, the Knights, and I squirm in my seat when Morgan’s name is called and I watch him skate out.

He’s tall and imposing while walking barefoot around the house, but in his gear, on those thin blades.

Hell, even with the helmet, he looks like a Viking ready to slaughter.

Damn.

I watch the clock on my phone to make sure the girls aren’t up too late and sit at the edge of my seat as we watch the game.