Another week passed at the Wellington mansion, and Louis and Stan were busy getting Louis ready for his new school. The kitchen table was littered with pamphlets on the private, all-boy academy Stan had attended when he was younger, but Louis had always gone to public school and wasn’t so sure about it.

Remy listened from the other end of the kitchen, making breakfast as Stan explained to Louis all the unique programs the school had.

“But it’s all boys,” he whined. “And I have to wear a uniform with a tie. What ten-year-old wears a tie?”

“I think he’s got you there,” Remy added, bringing over a fresh cup of coffee for Stan.

“Thanks,” he said, his hand snaking out to run along her leg, out of sight of Louis.

Her eyes fluttered closed before she caught herself and coughed. “You’re welcome. Louis? Bacon or sausage this morning?” she asked, hating how the words came out much higher-pitched than normal.

“Bacon,” Louis replied as if it was obvious, and Stan shot him a look. “Please, Remy?”

“That’s better,” she said and pulled the bacon out the fridge.

“Look, there’s an archery program and a boating program,” Stan pointed out, and Remy heard the shuffling of more papers.

“Boating? Really?”

“Yep. I think you’ll really like this school. The teachers are amazing, the class sizes are small, and you’re not stuck in the same room all day long,” he added. “It’s the perfect school for an adventurer such as yourself.”

Remy grinned, listening to them talk and sounding more and more like father and son than the two reluctant people who had been thrown together in a house. Theresa was blown away by their progress after her latest visit and had asked if Stan reconsidered talking to the therapist. Remy explained she had yet to bring it up again, but wasn’t sure if they needed it. Of course, she spoke too soon. Later that same night, she went to Stan’s workshop to check on him and came in at the tail end of him raging at something, slamming his hand down on the worktable and sending his tools tumbling to the floor around him. She helped him pick them up as he snapped at her that he could take care of it.

“Yes, I can see that,” she snapped right back, tossing the tools on the table.

“You don’t understand,” he replied, sitting down hard in his chair, rubbing his forehead hard as if to chase away whatever still haunted him.

“You’re damn right I don’t, and you know why? Because you refuse to tell me anything!”

“Like you tell me everything,” he muttered bitterly. “I know you’re still hiding shit, so don’t sit there all high and mighty, and act like I’m the only one in this relationship who’s keeping secrets!”

She had thrown her hands up in the air as she yelled in aggravation and slammed the workshop door shut behind her. Louis was in bed for the night, so she went to her studio, turned on some music by Two Steps from Hell, picked up a brush, paint, fresh canvas, and painted her anger onto that blank white space. She had no idea how much time had passed before the studio door opened and Stan rolled inside. She ignored him, running her brush frantically over the painting, unfocused on what she’d created until Stan’s hand grabbed hers gently, pausing her in her work.

“Remy,” he whispered, and she scowled at him, but his eyes were locked on the canvas in front of her.

Covered in paint and panting from her exertion, she turned to take in her latest piece and gasped. The painting was of two people clutched in each other’s arms, embracing in a kiss. Rain fell around their bodies surrounded by dead flowers and new buds springing to life around them. They were clearly naked, and Remy dropped the brush in shock when she realized she’d essentially painted what she wanted for her and Stan.

“I…I wasn’t even paying attention,” she’d told him.

“At least if I ever don’t know what you’re upset about I can come in here,” he mused. “It’s beautiful. Is this what you want?”

“I do, but I’m scared,” she whispered.

He drew her into his lap and hugged her close, resting his chin on her shoulder. “To be fair, I am too. I’m sorry for not being able to tell you everything yet.”

“Same,” she replied, leaning back into his arms. “You know, I think you should keep this one.”

“Yeah? Where would you want me to keep it?”

“Your bedroom… just a thought.”

He turned her to face him and the kiss warmed her to her toes. They’d stayed in her studio for a while, talking quietly and admiring her latest painting. Last night, she almost followed him to bed, but her uncertainty at taking that next step held her back. Stan didn’t push or try to convince her otherwise. He rolled beside her to the bottom of the stairs, kissed the back of her hand, and left it at that.

“Remy, what do you think?” Louis asked, and Remy jerked away from the counter. “You okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, sorry, dozed off for a second,” she said, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist and trying to ignore the knowing look from Stan.

“What do you think? This private school or public?” Louis asked.

She shuffled through the brochures. “Well, I went to public all my life, and we never had any of these programs. I think you should listen to Stan.”

Louis plopped his chin on his hands, clearly terrified, and stared down at the brochures.

“How about I make you a deal?” Stan offered. “You start at the private school, give it until their fall break, and if you hate it—if you absolutely can’t stand it—we’ll enroll you in public school, and I’ll never make you go back to private again. Deal?” he asked, holding out his hand to Louis.

Louis smiled brightly and took it. “Deal!”

“Good. Now, you are stuck with Remy all day, I’m afraid,” he said, rolling back from the table, and Remy noticed he wore a suit.

“Where are you going?” she asked, rolling her eyes when he smirked at the disappointment in her voice.

“My dad really needs me to be at the office for a meeting today.”

“My grandpa?” Louis asked, perking up.

Stan blinked a few times then nodded. “Yeah, your grandfather. Would you… would you like to meet your grandparents soon? And your aunts and uncles?”

Louis played with a brochure for a minute, and Remy held her breath, wondering if he would get upset again. “Yeah. Do you think they’ll want to meet me?”

“Definitely, kiddo. They’ll love you as much as I do.”

Louis hopped out of the chair and rushed to Stan, hugging him tightly for a second before darting off upstairs.

“Where are you going?” Remy called after him. “Breakfast, remember!”

“I know! But I want to give Stan something for his office!”

Remy shrugged her shoulders when Stan looked to her for an answer. “No idea.” She went back to cooking breakfast, pulling the bacon and eggs from the burner as Louis sprinted back down the steps. He held something small in his hands, and Remy peered down the hall, trying to see what it was. Louis gave him another hug and then ran into the kitchen. Remy made him a plate and went to see Stan off.

“What did he give you?” she asked.

“A tiny ship he painted himself. He said he might have borrowed some materials from your studio. I hope you don’t mind.” He held up the small bit of scrap canvas with a little ship painted in the center.

“It looks like you have a tiny artist in the house,” she said. “That’s really good, actually.”

“Now I have something to decorate my boring desk at work.” He tucked it carefully into his pocket. “Too bad I can’t take the other canvas with me to work, too.”

Her cheeks hot and her body screaming to fall into his lap as she had last night, Remy forced herself to take a step backwards. “You have to get to work, buddy boy.”

“Sadly, I do. You sure you’ll be okay alone all day?”

“We’ll be fine, Dad,” she said and rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “Go on, get outta here.”

He reached for her hand and squeezed it, a promise in his eyes, before he went to the front door. A car waited for him out front, and Remy closed the front door behind him, pressing her back to it and wondering how much longer she could hold out before he charmed his way right into her heart and she found herself in his bed.

She spent the rest of the morning helping Louis decide what activities he might want to do and found the shopping list Stan had set aside. “Why don’t we go ahead and knock this out?” she said. “I’m not sure I feel like being cooped up all day.”

“Can we get some ice cream on the way home?”

She texted Stan to let him know what they were up to, and he gave her the green light. “Stan said go for it. Right, shopping!”

He groaned as they walked to the cab parked out front of the house. “What is it with women and shopping?” he muttered.

The cab driver, an older man with a knit cap, barked a laugh. “Kid, you’ll be asking that for the rest of your life. Best case scenario, accept it and move on.”

“He has a point,” Remy added.

The shopping list wasn’t difficult though it was long, and after they were halfway through, she could tell Louis was done. They stopped at an old-fashioned diner on the way home and grabbed lunch and milkshakes to enjoy at the house. Louis took a liking to the yard as she hoped he would, and they were talking about plans for a treehouse by the time they finished their burgers and fries and dug into their milkshakes. She drew out a bag she’d kept hidden from Louis the whole trip and handed it to him, laughing at his milkshake mustache.

“Here, take a napkin first,” she said, giggling as he wiped at his face.

“What’s this?” he asked, peering into the bag. His mouth fell open as he pulled out the paint set she’d picked up for him. “Is this for me?”

“Someone mentioned you might be in need of your own paints.” A horrible thought hit her, and she choked on a fry.

“Remy? You all right?” he asked, giving her a helpful whack on the back.

“Yeah…just, what did you see when you went to get the stuff from my studio?”

“Nothing, a lot of pictures,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “Why?”

“No reason.” Inwardly, she breathed a sigh of relief and made a mental note to cover up the naked painting of her and Stan. “What did you think of them?”

Louis sucked down his milkshake and smacked his lips. “Kinda dark, but I liked them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Can you teach me some stuff?”

“Of course. Whatever you want, kid.”

She ruffled his hair, and they stared at the two largest trees closest to the house, making plans for a treehouse. She asked him to help her carry their trash inside as she hurried to her studio, draped a sheet over the naked painting, and came back with her sketchbook and charcoal. She found an old blanket in one of the linen closets, and they marched across the lawn for a lesson in drawing under the partly cloudy sky. She handed a sheet of paper and hunk of charcoal to Louis, and they whiled away the afternoon drawing the trees and the treehouses they’d talked about that quickly turned into castles towering over the house. They were having such a good time, she almost didn’t notice the woman standing on the back patio glaring at her, her arms crossed over her chest and a look of disgust on her face.

“Louis, stay behind me,” she said, putting herself immediately between the strange woman and Louis.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. I’m sure everything’s fine. I want you to stay behind me, and when we get to the patio, duck inside, lock the door, and grab the phone, just in case. Can you do that?”

He nodded, his eyes wide and fearful, his hand shaking as he grabbed hers clumsily.

“Everything’s fine, kid. I’m only being cautious.” Keeping her body between Louis and the woman, Remy marched across the lawn to the patio. “Hi, can I help you with something?” she called out when they were close enough. Louis did exactly as she told him to, and Remy relaxed slightly when she heard the lock on the door slide down.

The woman heard it too and sneered. “Not very trusting, are you?”

“Of a stranger standing on my back patio? No, not usually.”

The woman’s sneer turned into a pissed-off snarl, and Remy took a step backwards instinctively. “This is not your home. This is the home of Stanford Wellington. You are not welcome here, you know that?”

“Beg pardon?” Remy asked, confused.

“You heard me. I know all about you gold-digger types, and him letting you back into his life after everything you did. You know he’s been through enough!”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, lady.”

“Melody O’Connell. That is my name, and you would do well to remember it.”

“Okay,” Remy said slowly. “Melody, I think you have me confused with someone else—hell, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I think you should leave.”

“You’re the one who needs to leave, you and your son!”

Remy turned to see what she pointed at and saw Louis at the back door, the cordless phone clutched in his hand. “My son? He’s not my son, he’s Stanford’s son. I’m the nanny.”

Melody’s face went completely blank, her hand falling to the side. “You’re the what?”

“The nanny. Remy Reagan, his nanny. He hired me when he found out he had a son.”

“You’re not… you’re not the mother?”

“No. His mom died. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bother him about it.”

Melody glanced at Louis again and waved, her whole demeanor changing in an instant. “Well now, that makes this a very different situation indeed.”

“Uh huh. So do you normally go around confronting the women of single men? Or only the ones whose pants you clearly want to get into?” Remy asked smartly, a grin on her face.

“I want no such thing.”

“Sure you don’t. That’s why you came over here to clearly try and chase me and my not son away,” Remy argued. “I suggest you leave before I call the cops—or better yet, I call Stan and tell him you’re harassing his son, who has enough issues to deal with already.”

“I wasn’t harassing him.”

“But from the look on your face you were about to. Just shove off, lady, and I think you should leave Stan alone.”

Melody’s perfectly shaped eyebrow arched as she tapped her pointy-toed shoe on the patio. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Because he doesn’t need a woman like you in his life.”

Melody’s narrowed eyes widened, and she cackled darkly. “I see what’s happening here. Oh, my sweet dear, you really think he would feel anything for you? You’re his nanny, and you’re not even that pretty.”

Remy bristled at the insult but kept grinning. “Ouch, burn. Get out,” she snapped.

“I’ll leave, but this won’t be the last you or Stanford sees of me. I have him right where I want him, and sooner or later, he’ll figure out which one of us is best for him.”

“Melody, who told you I was his mom?” she asked curious.

“Stanford, of course.”

Remy barked a laugh and waved at Melody. “Okay, then, that’s all I needed to know. If you’re not off this property in two minutes, I’m calling the cops. Fair warning.” She hurried inside after Louis unlocked the door to let her in. They both watched Melody throw her hair back, stick her chin up, and march towards the front of the house. Remy, with Louis right behind her, ran to the front windows to peer out and be sure she left.

“Who was that?” Louis asked once she was gone.

“A very mean woman,” Remy told him. “Don’t worry. I have a feeling she won’t be coming back.”

“We left our sketches outside. Can we go back out?’

“Yeah, we should be safe. Bring the phone with us this time.”

Remy and Louis stayed outside beneath the trees until a whistle echoed out to them. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Stan at the edge of the patio, waving his arm over his head.

“Stan’s back. Good timing. I’m starving,” she mused, closing her sketchbook.

“Are you going to tell him about that lady?”

“Yep. Why don’t you get washed up? We’ll show Stan our treehouse plans after dinner.”

Louis handed her his sketches and raced across the lawn to hug Stan. He was still talking excitedly to him about everything they’d gotten for school and the art set Remy had bought him when he suddenly stopped talking and stared at Stan, visibly horrified.

“Louis, what’s wrong, kiddo?” he asked worriedly.

“Your shirt… I’m sorry, Stan,” he muttered.

Stan glanced down at his shirt and the charcoal smudges covering it. “It’s just a shirt, bud. Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you guys had a good day.”

“We did. Now go wash up,” Remy urged and gave Louis a gentle nudge towards the house.

“Are there drinks with this dinner tonight?” Stan asked as he followed Remy into the kitchen.

“You and I both could use one.” She brought out the half bottle of white wine from the fridge and emptied it into two glasses. “You should look at those sketches, by the way. He’s got some natural talent and a huge imagination.”

Stan shifted through the sketches. “These are his?”

She nodded, drinking her wine and trying to decide the best way to approach the topic of Melody’s unexpected visit. “Yep. I bought him some paints while we were out and thought I’d show him some sketching techniques.”

“You know, if you ever decided to stop being a nanny, you’d make a great art teacher.”

“Maybe one day. So, we…ah, had an unexpected guest this afternoon.”

“Oh? Who was that? Not my parents?” he asked quickly.

“No, not them. Your neighbor, Melody.’

Stan’s face paled and he chugged his glass of wine, avoiding her gaze. “Is that right?”

“Yeah. Care to tell me why she thought I was your son’s mother?”

He gripped the arms of his chair and shrugged, trying and failing to look innocent. “I have no idea. Is that what she said?”

“She showed up on your back patio, trying to chase me off. Stan, she told me that’s what you told her,” she stated and watched his face crumble as he hung his head. “Wow, you are something else.”

“Can I explain, please?”

“Yes, please do, because I spent a few minutes being utterly insulted by a woman who thinks she’s better for you than I am.” Remy didn’t mean for the words to come out sounding so full of hurt, but Melody’s words had stung. She tucked her hair behind her ears, ducking her head as if she could hide her feelings from Stan. He pulled them out of her whether she wanted him to see them or not.

“Remy, I want nothing to do with that woman, which is why I lied to her. I had hoped she would leave me alone, but I see I was wrong.” His hand reached up and uncrossed her arms so he could hold her hands. “I’m sorry you had to deal with her. I’ll take care of it, promise.”

Remy sniffed hard and nodded. “I was more worried about Louis.”

“She won’t bother either of you again, I swear it.”

A smile crept across her face and tears burned in her eyes before she wiped them away quickly. “Thanks I…uh, I guess I’ll go get washed up for dinner, too.”

“Remy, you know how I feel about you, right?” he asked uncertainly.

She glanced quickly down the hall to make sure Louis wasn’t in sight and brushed her lips against his. “I do.” Her hands slipped out of his and she darted upstairs before that simple touch turned into anything else and they risked Louis seeing them together.