Page 5

THREE

ALEJANDRA

A shrill ring pierces the silence, making my heart leap into my throat.

I try to dismiss it, but the heavy pressure in my chest refuses to lift.

I’ve been waiting for this call all morning.

After yesterday’s interview, I tossed and turned all night, each answer echoing in my mind, a relentless cycle of self-doubt making me feel like I missed the opportunity.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself, and pick up the phone.

“Alejandra Orozco,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm even though I’m already feeling nervous.

“Miss Orozco,” the voice on the other end is deep, with a slight gravel to it. It’s him—Gage Donovan—I can tell immediately. “This is Gage Donovan. I’d like to offer you the position of live-in nanny for my daughter, Zoe. How soon would you be able to start?”

I freeze.

It’s real. He’s offering me the job. This is it.

I swallow hard, trying not to sound too eager. “Thank you, sir. I’m... I’m grateful for the opportunity.” I clear my throat, trying to keep my composure. “As for moving in, I can do it as soon as possible. I don’t have much to pack, and I’m ready to start right away.”

He gives a short, clipped response. “Good. I’m due to head out on a deployment soon, and I need someone here with Zoe. I have two weeks left of my family leave to help get things situated before I have to get ready to deploy.”

His words are professional and direct—like everything in his world. There’s no warmth, no small talk. It’s all business. His military mindset is on full display, and I’m reminded of how much some of these parents have to give up when it comes to their kids.

I’m about to speak when he continues, as though he’s not even aware of the impact of what he’s saying.

“I have a room next to the nursery all set up for you. There’s a private bathroom connected. We’ll need to go over my schedule, Zoe’s care routine, and any other specifics. I expect things to run smoothly while I’m away. Do you have any questions?”

I shake my head, though I know he can’t see it. “No, sir. I understand. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

There’s a brief silence before he responds. “Alright then. I'll... uh... see you soon.”

The line goes dead, and I sit there for a moment, staring at my phone.

I got the job. I’m moving in.

But as much as I’m relieved, I’m also nervous. I’ve never lived with someone I didn’t know, especially not someone like Gage. He’s a Marine. He’s used to being in control. I don’t know if I’m ready for the kind of environment I’m walking into. I mean, I don’t even know what he does in the service.

But then there’s Zoe. My heart softens just thinking about her, and that’s the only thing that matters right now. I’m here to care for her. To make sure she’s safe. And if I can do that, then everything else will fall into place.

Moving in is harder than I expected. The packing itself is difficult, but it’s the profound emotional toll of severing ties that weighs the most.

I find myself looking back at my small apartment one last time before I load up my car with the few things I own. It’s a strange feeling, leaving behind the life I’ve built here in San Diego. But it’s not just for me—it’s for my family back in Mexico.

I glance at my phone, scrolling through pictures of my younger siblings, their bright smiles sending a pang of longing through me.

They don’t know everything I’ve sacrificed to help them.

They don’t know that this job means I’ll be even further from them, that I’ll be missing their birthdays, and the day-to-day life that I’ll never get back.

But they need me. I’m the oldest, and I’ve always been the one to hold things together after our father passed.

I’ve always been the one to carry the weight, no matter how heavy.

So, I carry on. I pack up my things, drive to the house, and take the first step toward a new life.

When I pull up to the curb, the house looks so quaint.

Until you get inside, I’ve never been inside a home like this—especially not one belonging to a single military man.

There’s an air of discipline about it. Everything is sharp and clean, and I’m instantly reminded of the kind of life Gage must lead.

He opens the door before I even ring the bell, as though he’s been waiting for me.

He’s freshly shaven, his hair a little overgrown on the sides, but man, is he gorgeous.

Gage towers over my five-foot-five frame, with dark brown hair and piercing green eyes.

I have to avert my gaze so it doesn’t seem like I’m checking him out.

I totally am, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Welcome,” Gage says, his voice firm but not unfriendly. He doesn’t offer me a hand or even a smile—just a stiff nod, I’m here to do a job, and he expects me to do it well.

I nod back, not wanting to push too hard or make things awkward. He moves to the side, and I step over the threshold into my new home.

“I’ll show you around,” he says, and it’s clear there’s no small talk to be had. Everything is business with him.

He leads me through the house, and I try to take it all in—though it’s hard not to feel out of place here.

The home is a charming two-story house with sleek, modern furniture, gray walls, and hardly any decor.

There’s a quiet, almost cold feeling to it, and I can’t help but notice how everything is perfectly in place.

I feel my nerves tightening as I walk behind him, wondering what’s to come.

But then we reach the family room at the back of the house, and something changes.

I notice Zoe lying in the swing, her tiny body gently swaying back and forth. The swing moves almost imperceptibly, the soft rhythm of it making me pause. I’ve never cared for a newborn full-time. Not that I doubt my abilities.

She’s so small. So fragile.

My breath catches in my chest. Zoe looks so peaceful, so tiny in that swing, and it pulls at something deep inside me.

She doesn’t have a mother. I can see that now. There’s no woman here cooing at her, no one holding her close and whispering sweet words to her. It’s just Gage. And the silence.

And now me.

Something about that breaks my heart.

I take a hesitant step forward, my heart aching as I watch Zoe’s little face.

She’s barely old enough to lift her head or make sense of the world around her, and already she doesn’t have one of the most important people in a child’s life.

Her mother. The person who brought her into this world, who should be here for her.

“May I?” I motion to the couch.

“Of course,” he clears his throat. “Make yourself comfortable. This is going to be your home, too.”

“Her mother,” I begin to ask but he cuts me off before I can even finish asking.

“She’s not in the picture.” His jaw ticks, and I can see whatever it is, it’s a sore subject. “And if she ever comes to the house, not that I expect her to, you call me immediately and don’t let her inside.”

Duly noted. It obviously ended really badly between them.

I sit down on the couch nearby, watching her, my chest tight.

How could anyone leave a baby like this? How could anyone just walk away from something so pure?

I know nothing about motherhood, not really. My relationship with my mother was not close or affectionate. But I feel it now. This natural instinct. The protectiveness.

It’s overwhelming.

Her little hands twitch, and she makes a soft sound in her sleep.

I feel my heart twist at the thought that she doesn’t have the woman she needs right now.

The one who should be here, rocking her to sleep, giving her everything she deserves.

Instead, it’s just me and her father, who—well, he seems like he’s trying.

But he’s not the one who’ll give her the warmth and love that only a mother can provide.

I reach out to adjust her blanket slightly, my fingers brushing against her soft skin. The tenderness in me grows stronger with each movement, and I can’t help but feel that if I don’t do something—if I don’t help her—who will?

I feel a surge of compassion for this little girl. She’s so young, so innocent. Zoe deserves more than this cold house, more than the strict schedule Gage will expect me to follow. She deserves a mother. She deserves to be held, loved, and cared for in a way that no one can replace.

I gently pull the blanket around her, hoping she won’t wake.

Gage steps back into the room, his footsteps steady but heavy. “She’s fine,” he says, his tone casual but detached, like this is all routine.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “She’s beautiful,” I manage, my voice softer than I intended. “You’re very lucky, Mr. Donovan.”

He looks at me for a second, but he doesn’t smile or say anything else. He just stands there, arms folded, watching as I settle in.

“Thank you.” There’s something between us now. A tension I didn’t expect. His eyes linger on Zoe, and I wonder if he sees what I do—the loss, the absence of her mother, the load of responsibility pressing on us both.

But then his gaze flicks back to me, cold and calculating, and I know that I’m not supposed to get too close.

He’s the father. I’m the nanny. That’s all this is.

Just do your job, Ale.

“So, do you need help to bring your things inside?” Gage shifts uncomfortably. “I can grab them out of your car while you get acquainted with Zoe.”

I can see the weariness in him, in the way he stands, the tension in his shoulders.

It’s subtle, but it’s there, like a quiet storm simmering beneath the surface.

There’s something about him—something that speaks of battles fought, both outside and within.

I can’t imagine what he’s going through.

A man like him, a Marine, taking on all this responsibility by himself. It must be exhausting.

But I also know that I don’t have the luxury to ask questions or to get close. This job is strictly professional. I need it. I’m here to care for his daughter.

Nothing more.