L ove me some Jake and the Neverland Pirates . I’ve seen this episode like three times, but I could watch it again. This is what happens when you hang around two-year-olds for too long. You start looking forward to kiddie shows the same way you would Game of Thrones . Normally, we’d be making Play-Doh or baking cookies or making drawings for Daddy, but this morning, Things 1 and 2 are out of sorts .

They’re not quite feverish, but they’re cranky and listless. It might’ve been the frolicking in the snow we did earlier this week. If so, then I feel bad for taking them out on such a cold February day even though they had so much fun. We all did .

I smile .

It was a great day, and I’m still thrilled that Logan got to come with us. But ever since he got that call from work, he’s worked overtime every day, rarely coming home early like he was starting to do. I guess that’s how it is in his line of work. If a project is due soon at L. R. Group, then the world gets put on hold .

“Noooo!” Becca pushes away my offer of water and snuggles closer to the pillow. Her thumb is in her mouth, which she only does when she’s sleepy. Weird, because she just slept for two hours straight .

I feel her forehead. She’s definitely warmer now than she was half an hour ago. Reaching across the couch, I feel Price’s arm. Also warm, and there’s a slight flush to his cheeks. Their eyes are also glazed as they watch Jake on TV and outside, the snow falls in swirling drafts of confetti. Covering them both with a big chenille blanket, I head for the kitchen to prepare some soup. Maybe I can feed them while they’re hypnotized with Jake and the pirates .

I really hate to bother Logan at work, but I think he’d want to know that the kids are coming down with something. Especially since they’re scheduled to go home with Miriam this evening. He might not want them to go outside while they’re sick. I don’t know how Miriam would take to them staying an extra, unscheduled night at Logan’s place. Though it would be the best course of action for them, Miriam’s not exactly about best course of action for the kids .

I decide I’ll text him a photo of the twins just to inform him that they’re feeling a little under the weather. He doesn’t need to call or go out of his way to worry. I got this. When I come back with soup, the kids are asleep again less than an hour after they’ve awoken from their naps .

I take a pic of the sleeping angels and text them to Logan with the words: The babies are feeling poopy . No less than a minute after describing them as poopy, Becca twists and turns in her sleep, winces in pain, then finally wakes up in tears. From the sour change in the air, I realize she’s gotten sick in her pull-ups .

Ugh, must be a stomach virus. This could be bad. Especially if they’ve both got it .

“Shh, little one, it’s okay. Let’s get you cleaned up.” I lay her flat on her back while she cries, waking up her brother, and get her changed. She still refuses the cup of water and clings to my shoulder when she’s dressed again .

Unfortunately, Price begins having the same issue and I have to change him as well .

“Wow, you guys really are twins,” I mutter, changing him into a fresh, clean pull-up. I think of my mother dealing with my brothers when they were little, how she could’ve used a hand though she handled it herself. I could very well have twins as well. The fraternal kind, like Becca and Price, like my brothers, are a side effect of hyper-ovulation, when the ovaries release more than one egg per cycle, and it’s hereditary .

I think about a possible future. What if Logan and I continue this way? What if we become serious and stay together? What if I get pregnant with twins and then Becca and Price will have another set for siblings ?

I can’t let my brain go there. I don’t know what this is with Logan yet. I would like to think it’s love, but I’m not sure. It’s hard when he works so often and I’m mostly here just to do a nannying job. Logan’s text reply reads: Shit, what’s wrong? On my way .

I didn’t mean for him to leave work in the middle of a pivotal point of the project. I begin formulating a reply but suddenly, Becca needs changing again. I think I’m about to lose my mind. If I’m not changing, comforting, or leading one sick child to the bathroom, then I’m changing, comforting, or leading another. They both cling to me, crying, and my arms feel like they’re going to break off .

But I sit on the couch and hold them both. “It’s the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse…” I start to sing one of their favorite songs. “Come inside, it’s fun inside. It’s the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse…” Their cries turn to whimpers, but every time one twin begins to cry again, the other joins in .

It feels endless, but soon they’re falling away into a sleepy state again. Though my arms are killing me, I won’t lay them down. If I try, I know they’ll only wake up again and start crying. So I stick it out and keep singing. Once the show has ended, I press the remote button OFF with my toe and use my feet to close one of the light-colored curtains so the sunlight doesn’t bother them .

“I came over right when you texted.” Logan appears in the doorway. I didn’t even hear him come in. He always looks so incredibly handsome coming home from work. Every time I see him dressed in nice pants and buttoned shirt, his expensive, stylish watch, and his hair all perfectly in place, I get a knot in my stomach .

Immediately, I give him the universal sign for “Shhh…” with pursed lips and wide “don’t you dare” eyes .

He plucks Becca off my shoulder and flips her around to settle onto her father’s massive, tree-trunk torso. Something inside of me thaws. There’s nothing sexier than seeing a man taking care of his children, and the fact that he left work just to be with them has propelled him to superstar fatherdom .

“They definitely have a stomach virus,” I tell him, settling next to him, sighing. Just having him here is a relief, even though I could’ve handled it on my own. “Do you want me to take them to the doctor ?”

“Let’s wait a bit. If they’re still sick tomorrow morning, then we’ll take them .”

I appreciate his easygoing manner. So many parents are quick to take their kids to the doctor, especially rich parents with nannies. It’s like they’ve never heard of fevers being a normal part of the immune system before .

As we sit in silence, our hands nearest each other creep across the seat and link. His fingers feel strong and secure. I give him an appreciative smile. The kids sleep on our shoulders for over an hour, and my skin burns just having them stuck to me, sweating it out. I’m touched by his dedication. He should be working on the final leg of the project, not helping me at home .

The next day, he’s home again to help, telecommuting, fielding phone calls and joining into Skype meetings, all the while holding his kids and making sure they stay hydrated. He accompanies me to the doctor late in the day, and sure enough, a stomach virus is the diagnosis. Lots of fluids and keep them cool .

Check and check .

We work as a team to battle the Virus Monster. By the third day, little smiles begin to appear again, but this time, I’m the one not feeling well. When I can barely get out of bed the next day, Logan sits on the edge of my bed and tells me to stay there. He will take care of everything. Soon, hot soup is coming to my room, cold drinks, and warm blankets for my feet. Movies come on to keep me company, since I insist he stay away from me or else he’ll end up with it, too .

He doesn’t have to be here .

He could be at work, and I could be dealing with this alone. He could also hire backup to help me, but I’m grateful that he’s the one helping. Anyone outside of this, familiar with the divorce case, might say he’s doing it to be Super Dad. He’s only doing it for custody of the kids, but I know it’s not true. I know he loves them and loves taking care of me as well .

Upon waking from one of my feverish dozes, I find Logan sitting at the edge of my bed, painting my toenails pink with Becca. “Hi, Paisy,” he says, imitating Becca’s name for me, except it’s way cuter hearing it coming from a deep voice .

“Hi, Paisy,” Becca follows her father’s lead .

“Hi, guys .”

“Pink?” He holds up a bottle of nail polish. “Or purple?” Then another .

“Black,” I reply .

“Blaaaack?” Becca giggles. “Da-yee, Paisy wants black .”

“If Paisy wants black, then we’ll get her black. Because we love Paisy. Don’t we, love bug?” Silver eyes smile at me. I look away and blush, then glance back at him. Did he just say he loves me? Butterflies flit through my belly, the good kind, not the ones that have been making me sick lately .

“Yes,” Becca replies with utmost assurance. “We love Paisy .”

* * *

I f I was going to get sick anywhere, I’m glad it was here with Logan. Though there’s been nothing glamorous about running to the bathroom every hour, I feel like I’m at home. I feel like Logan’s my husband and these children are my own. I know I shouldn’t think that way, because he’s not and they’re not, but I can’t help it .

Home is where your heart is, and mine now feels like it’s in Logan Raider’s penthouse .

Which is still so hard to believe .

After a week, Logan finally returns to work but only because I insisted I would be alright without him. He needs to catch up and burn the candle at both ends now to get the final project ready in time for city approval, and I won’t get in his way. I’ll be a fly on the wall, a bug on a rug, a ghost for a host. I’ll just work on my business stuff while he comes home late every night .

Whatever it takes to make sure he’s happy with his project .

The kids are going back to Miriam for a week to make up for their being sick here at their father’s, and I think she’s going to have a coronary when she finds out I was sick, too .

“So, this whole time, they could’ve been with me but they’ve been with their sick nanny instead. Nice.” She huffs at the door, keeping the kids at bay so they don’t run back into the penthouse. Miriam has definitely caught on their preference of me over her and it’s become a silent, seething rivalry .

“Logan was here, too. It wasn’t just me. They needed him.” I probably shouldn’t have said that. I’m not supposed to talk about anything Logan does or doesn’t do. But it doesn’t hurt to mention that he was home caring for his children, I suppose .

It’s like a fire has been lit under her butt. The thought of the four of us, home together, behaving like a family during a health crisis, brings out the envious bitterness in Miriam. “They needed their mother is what they needed,” she spits. “One day you’ll understand, Miss Carrington. Hopefully not too soon .”

She leaves and I’m left wondering what she means. She’s afraid I’ll get further involved with Logan, isn’t she? She’s afraid I’ll one day get pregnant with his baby and she’ll have to face the fact that he moved on with his life without her. What an attention whore .

As I’m closing the door, the doorman steps out of the elevator holding an envelope. He hands it to me and tips his hat. I don’t have any money for him, but he waves me away. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’. Mr. Raider does enough for me, as is.” He smiles, tips his hat again, and leaves .

The envelope is made out to me, even though it’s been couriered, not mailed. Miss Paisley Carrington. What’s so important that it’s been sent here by hand instead of mailed to my apartment? Even though I technically still live there, because I still pay my rent, I haven’t seen my place nor Caitlyn in almost two weeks. Someone knows I’m not living there anymore. Someone knows I’m here full-time .

Inside is a subpoena from none other than my father’s law firm. They want me to come and testify at the hearing next week about the things I’ve seen as Logan’s live-in nanny. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe my own father would allow for me to be put on the stand when he knows I don’t want any part of this .

Logan apparently has received notice at work, because he calls me. Enraged, he hisses through the phone, a sound that still reminds me of those first days of working here when he was curbing his anger any way possible. “This is insane,” he yells. “I don’t know what they’re trying to pull, but you can’t do this .”

“What choice do I have, Logan?” My heart pounds against my ribcage. I don’t want to upset him, but a subpoena is a subpoena .

“Paisley, they’re going to ask how often I’m there, how much of the kids’ time you spent with them versus me spending with them …”

“And I’ll tell them the truth, that you’re a wonderful father who doesn’t hesitate to run home when his kids are sick, who feeds them and holds them when they’re crying. It’s the truth, Logan .”

“But it’s not always like that. I do spend lots of time away. They’re going to use that to make me look like a bad parent.” I hear him pound his desk as he grunts. “This is fucking ludicrous that your own father would put you in the middle .”

Logan put me in the middle, too, by inviting me back .

I did, too. I could’ve said no and refused, but I couldn’t help myself either .

“This is all of our doing,” I say. “Not just my father’s .”

Logan sounds like he’s counting to ten in an effort to control his rage. He did promise he would speak nicer to me, but I know this is infuriating. “Please call your father and try to talk some sense into him .”

“Logan, I’ve tried .”

“Try again,” he snaps then hangs up .

So that’s how you hang up with someone you love ?

Got it .

I know exactly how this is going to go. My father is going to say that it’s the nature of his business, that he’s just doing his job. He’s going to say I have an obligation to my family before I have one to my employer, and he’s going to say that the truth will set everyone free. Fuck that. The truth will only serve Miriam’s purpose and pit Logan against me, and I don’t want any part of that .

Unfortunately, I may not have a choice .