Page 160 of Nine Week Nanny

Her lips press together like she’s fighting a smile she doesn’t want to give me.

She sets her cup down, keeping her eyes on mine. “Do you realize this is the first time we’ve ever sat across from each other in public?”

I arch a brow. “If you remember correctly, our first encounter was very public. Hotel bar, crowded room.”

“That was before we knew each other,” she counters, keeping her tone even. “Before secrecy became the rule.”

She’s right. After that night, it was after hours, sneaking out in the middle of the night, stealing touches when Lennon was gone.

Hiding. Always hiding.

“You’ve got a point there. That’s why staring now, we do it right.”

“Yeah.” Her eyes sharpen, studying me. “But I can’t tell if you’re here because you actually want me, or because you hate losing.”

The words land sharply, but I don’t flinch. “Both might’ve been true before. Not now.” I lean in, steady. “I came because I want you.”

For a second, she watches me, biting her top lip like she’s weighing whether she believes it. Then she pivots, her voice softer, seemingly deciding to keep it lighter for now. “Tell me more about Lennon and this adoption.”

“Crazy, huh?”

Her lips press together, her eyes shining, but she doesn’t let it linger there. “When I was with you, it was always temporary. You made it clear his aunt would take him eventually. Now you’re adopting him? What changed?”

I lean forward, no hesitation. “Temporary wasn’t enough. He deserved more than to wait for someone else to decide if he mattered. I decided. I petitioned. I think Camila meant well, and I know she loves him, but every day I could see him shrinking, feeling like none of us wanted him.”

She studies me like she’s trying to reconcile the man she left in Palm Beach with the one sitting across from her now. “You’ll really be his father.”

“I’ll always be his brother. But now I’m choosing to be the father-figure he’s never had, too. We’re a team,” I say quietly.

Her brow creases. “And how are you going to manage that? You don’t exactly have the kind of life that leaves room for school runs and bedtime stories.”

“I’ll keep a nanny. Of course I will. But—” My mouth twists. “None of them will measure up to you. You set the bar too damn high.”

A flush rises in her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away. And for the first time since I walked back into her life, she lets the genuine smile break free.

Her throat works as she swallows, blinking fast.

“He misses you,” I add quietly. “We both do.”

Her voice trembles, barely audible. “I miss him, too.”

I don’t press. I let the words hang there, proof that even after everything, some part of this still belongs to both of us.

She clears her throat, fingers tightening around her cup. “Okay,” she says, her tone brisker now, like she’s saving herself from sinking too deep. “If we sit here much longer, I’ll be late for the rest of the day I don’t have planned.”

A smile tugs at my mouth. “So what’s next? You’re the local, you tell me.”

She stands, slipping the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “Walking. Downtown is meant for wandering.”

I fall into step beside her as we push out into the street, the late-morning sun bouncing off brick facades and wrought-iron balconies. She sets the pace, weaving us past shop windows and art galleries, pointing out a bakery she swears has the best croissants and a boutique that doubles as a bookstore.

I don’t interrupt. I just listen, watching how alive she is here, how settled. Palm Beach had felt like hiding. This feels like belonging.

She glances sideways at me, catching the look. “What?”

I shake my head. “Just wondering how long it’ll take before you start giving tours.”

Her lips curve, a spark of humor back in her eyes. “I’m considering a moonlighting gig. You willing to ride in a horse-drawn carriage with me, Mr. Boardroom?”