Page 161 of Nine Week Nanny

“Only if you promise not to tell anyone.”

FORTY-THREE

Sloane

The sheets are tangled around our legs, still warm from the friction.

I lie on my side, catching my breath, and Pope’s arm is heavy across my waist. His hand traces slow circles on my hip, lazy and unhurried.

“This place is incredible,” he murmurs against my shoulder. “Not what I expected.”

I glance at the exposed brick wall, the wide-plank floors creaking under every step. “Built in the 1800s. It was a single house once, but they carved it into a quad sometime in the eighties. I got lucky. It’s the only unit with an original, working fireplace.”

He props himself up on an elbow, eyes roaming the room. “How’d you find it?”

“A nurse I work with was moving out. I jumped on it. My parents had to help with the deposit and two months’ rent to move in, but it was worth it.” I smile faintly. “Feels like mine.”

His gaze lingers on me, not the room. “It suits you.”

I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling fan creaking overhead. “I thought you said you were leaving today.”

“I was.” He leans down, brushing a kiss to my collarbone. “But I wasn’t about to miss the tour. Best guide in Charleston.”

I snort, shoving lightly at his chest. “You were skeptical the whole time.”

“Until the guide pointed out the house where Washington stayed. I thought that was pretty cool.”

I laugh, the sound spilling out easily, not forced. “Admit it, you liked it.”

His mouth curves. “I liked watching you take it all in. You looked like you belonged here, like this city was already yours.” His fingers trail down my arm, sending a shiver racing through me. “I liked being in your world.”

My throat tightens, but I manage a whisper. “So when do you leave?”

His hand stills, then slides lower to link with mine. “Plane’s at five tomorrow morning. And I don’t want to get on it.”

The words hang there, thick and dangerous. My chest aches, and I swallow hard, torn between hope and fear.

“You don’t want to leave,” I repeat quietly. The part I don’t say out loud is thatyou will anyway.

His grip tightens. “Not this time. Not from you.”

I want to believe him. God, I do. But I remember what it felt like to watch him shut me out in Palm Beach, to realize I’d been foolish enough to think I mattered when he could walk away so easily.

What if Charleston is just another version of that? What if I’m just another detour, another mistake he’ll regret once he’s back in his world?

I bite the inside of my cheek, hard, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “Pope, I’ve loved this time with you. But you and I both know this could never work. You live in Palm Beach, and I live here.”

His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist, steady, patient. “I don’t agree that it can’t work.” His voice steadies. “Let me show you.”

My chest tightens. “How?”

“Next Friday,” he says without hesitation. “Lennon’s done with school at three. I’ll charter a plane, and we’ll be here by dinner. We’ll stay the weekend. He will be pumped. You can show him Charleston.”

My breath hitches, the images rushing in before I can stop them. I can already imagine Lennon racing through Charlestowne Landing, pressing his face to the glass at the aquarium, digging for shark’s teeth at Sullivan’s Island, even in the cold. My throat goes tight with a hope I don’t want to trust.

“Are you allowed to travel with him like that?”

“Of course. We don’t have any restraints. He would be over the moon to see you.”