Patrick

I’m desperate. If this next woman doesn’t work out, I’m screwed. Thankfully, she comes highly recommended by my brother’s fiancée, Scarlette.

Checking my watch, it’s one fifty-five. I’ve got a minute to throw some water on my face before she gets here. The last two people were painful and I could use a minute to cool off.

There’s a firm knock on the door. Guess I don’t have time to cool myself down. I walk over and grip the door handle and pray to whoever is listening that this woman will be the answer to my prayers. Blowing out a breath, I pull the door open, completely unprepared for who greets me.

Damn.

“Hi, I’m Carsen.” She reaches her hand out for me to shake. I take it in mine and remind myself to breathe.

Carsen is stunning. And young. Her hair is long and dark blonde with a pretty wave to it, and her eyes are a striking shade of clear blue-green. Her skin is peaches and cream flawless, the kind you want to skim your fingers across. She smells sweet, like spring flowers; lilacs maybe. She’s tall and lean, a dancer’s body or a model’s. Christ, pull your shit together. She’s interviewing to be your nanny, not your girlfriend.

Clenching my jaw shut, so my mouth doesn’t hang open, I take a moment before I say, “Thanks for coming. I’m Patrick. Come in.” My voice and movements feel stiff and awkward. It’s been a very long time since my body has reacted this way to a woman, probably since Maggie. I step aside for her to walk past.

“Thanks for the chance; here is my résumé.” She hands me a folder and leans down and slips off her shoes. Her skirt rides up her long legs, highlighting the curve of her firm ass. Am I drooling like a damn dog? I avert my gaze as soon as I realize I’m ogling.

“Let’s go sit in the living room.” I lead her to the couches and point to one of them for her to sit in.

Her eyes scan the room, taking it all in. I’ve got a gorgeous house. It’s what I do for a living. I own a contracting company with my brothers, and it’s a successful one. I outdid myself on the house. High ceilings, teak floors, expensive appliances and furnishings, and the best interior designer in town came in to add the finishing touches. Despite all of the beauty, it’s painfully empty.

“Your home is beautiful,” she says and now her appraisal of me starts. Scanning me from head to toe. I’ve got one leg crossed over the other, feigning relaxation. I’d love to know what she thinks of me and wonder how much Scarlette told her. She probably sees me as an old lonely single dad. She’s right. Not where I thought I’d be at thirty-four.

“Thank you, Carsen. Do you mind telling me about yourself?”

She sweeps her hair over one of her shoulders and sits up straighter. She’s got a quiet confidence about her; it’s endearing. “Of course. I’m twenty-three years old and plan to start UVA in the fall. I got accepted into the art program. Only a couple of night classes per semester, so I’d be available for you when you need me. And I’ve got experience with children and babies.”

“Have you been a nanny before?” I ask.

“Yes, for a little boy. It was a four year job that I loved. He was twelve weeks old when I started the position. It ended because the family relocated. Of course, I have all of my previous employer’s information for you on my résumé.” She points at the folder now sitting on the coffee table where I left it. I pick it up and flip through the pages of credentials, references, and résumé. Very organized. “Plus, I’ve babysat for years. And…” She sighs and tucks her hair behind her ear as if she’s trying to collect herself. “My mom is a single mother. In order to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table she worked constantly. I pretty much brought up my brother. But now he’s eighteen and heading off to college this fall. He doesn’t need me anymore.” She lets out a soft little laugh and looks down when she does it. “How old is your daughter?”

“She’s eleven months old, almost twelve.” My smile spreads across my face thinking about my beautiful baby girl, my pride and joy.

“Is that her picture?” Carsen gets up and crosses the room—her gait is graceful, she has to be a dancer—to the mantel and pulls off a framed photo of Maeve. It was taken at Christmas. She’s in a red velvet dress, a red bow in her thin strawberry blonde hair. Her toothless smile melts me every time I see it.

“Yes, that’s her.” My voice has a formal edge to it. I wish I could relax a little around this woman. But relaxing around anyone isn’t really in my nature.

“She’s beautiful.” She studies the photo for another minute and sets it down. Returning to her seat, she crosses her legs. It’s impossible not to notice the contraction of her lean muscles. Damn. It’s been way too long since I’ve been with a woman.

“She is, isn’t she?” I say, a small crack forming in my rigid exterior. If you want to see me reduced to a pile of mush, start talking about my baby girl.

Carsen nods.

“What other qualities do you bring to the table?” As much I like talking about Maeve, Carsen is here for a reason.

“I’m certified in CPR, first aid, and pride myself on being patient and dependable, with strong time management and organizational skills. I’ve been told I’m a good cook. And I take my commitments very seriously. I would love this position.” Her voice has a sweet smoothness to it. It’s sexy.

My first impression of her is that she’s mature for her twenty-three years. It’s in the way she listens and speaks, in the way she carries herself with a quiet confidence. Maybe it’s because she had to bring up her brother. Forced to grow up too fast.

At the very least, I want her to know what she’s getting herself into being a nanny for me. Since my entire life changed six months ago, I’m not the same man. Gone are the days when I was open and free. I can’t pick up and go on a long ride on my Harley or stop in for a beer at happy hour with my brothers. Guarded and restricted are better adjectives to describe me and right now my only focus is work and my daughter. “My life is very complicated at the moment. My work takes up a great deal of my time. I need someone to move in here and be available to take care of Maeve, especially during the day. Making meals for Maeve would be necessary and running an occasional errand as well. I will do my best to be home at a set time, but there will be a late night occasionally, and I will let you know that ahead of time. You’ll have set days off as well, usually the weekends.”

“That would work perfect since I’m only going to college part-time in the evenings. I was able to save money from my nanny position to finally get started. I can be available for you all day and my class schedule shouldn’t interfere with yours,” Carsen says.

The baby monitor sitting on my coffee table lights up with some cooing sounds. She’s awake. “Oh, looks like she’s ready to get up from her nap. Can you wait here? I’ll bring her down.”

“Sure,” she says and smiles, a slight rose color dusts her cheeks.

As I go up the stairs to Maeve’s room, I can’t stop myself from thinking of the gorgeous woman in my living room. If only she had a severe case of acne or a nose shaped like a beak. I’m not sure if I should offer her the position or tell her that I’ve chosen someone else, even though I don’t have any other options. I’m attracted to her, which is problematic for multiple reasons, but the main two are she’s young and she could be my employee. It’s a recipe for disaster.

Sure, I’m disciplined enough to keep it in my pants, but damn if she isn’t one of the sexiest women I’ve ever laid eyes on, and she’d be living under my roof. Not to mention I’m technically still married, not that Maggie seems to care. If she did, she would’ve reached out to me by now. It’s been nearly six months and not a word. Complete radio silence. Never saw it coming. I keep telling myself that if I give her all the time and space she needs, maybe she’ll come back to me. I’m either optimistic or stupid and lately I’ve been running low on optimism.

When I open the door to Maeve’s room, she’s standing in her crib babbling incomprehensible baby talk along with a slew of ‘da-das.’ “Are you ready to get up now, baby girl?” I lift her up into my arms and lay a kiss on her round, warm cheek. “Let’s go downstairs. I have to introduce you to someone.” I make quick work of changing her diaper and put her in a cute one-piece outfit that “Auntie” Scarlette bought for her. It’s pink and has big elephants on it.

Down in the living room, Carsen is where I left her, sitting there looking beautiful, if a little nervous. Taking a seat on the shag area rug, I set Maeve down with me and grab a few toys out of her toy chest and lay them in front of her. Normally she’d go for the plush lavender dog, but today she gets on all fours and crawls over to Carsen. When she gets close to her, Carsen joins her on the floor.

“Do you want to play with the dog or giraffe?” Carsen asks and reaches for the stuffed animals.

Maeve takes the dog from her and puts it directly in her mouth. Carsen and I laugh at my daughter as a trail of drool hangs from her mouth. “She’s cutting two teeth at the moment,” I say and push myself up to a standing position. “Do you mind watching her for a second? I’m going to grab her some milk.”

“Sure. Maeve and I will hang here until you get back.” Her eyebrows raise up and down at Maeve and the tone of her voice has a sing-song quality to it that my daughter seems to enjoy. She can’t stop looking at her. I know the feeling.

It only takes a minute to heat up Maeve’s milk, but when I go back to join them, my heart warms seeing Carsen holding my girl. They’re making goofy faces at each other and Maeve is flailing her pudgy arms in the air, the sweet sound of belly giggles filling the room.

“What are you ladies up to?” I ask, holding up the sippy cup I made for Maeve. When she sees it, her hands open and close, her way of telling me she wants it. “Here you go.”

Maeve pops the cup in her mouth and Carsen sets her on the floor next to her. Taking a seat next to them, I watch how the girls interact. It’s natural. Not like the last nanny, who was strict and impatient. Carsen is great with my baby. I know in my heart that she is the perfect person for the job; I’m just going to have to do my damnedest to ignore how sexy she is.

“When can you start?” I ask her.

A stunning smile spreads across her face and I can’t help but notice how perfect and white her teeth are. “I can move in tomorrow.”

* * *

“I can’t believe your wedding is a month away,” I say as I cut up pieces of green beans and put them on Maeve’s high chair.

Scarlette and Braeden invited us over for dinner tonight. It’s perfect timing. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Carsen since she left this afternoon. I’m hoping Scarlette will give me more dirt on her. We all take our seats around the dinner table. Scarlette made buttered chicken and rice for the adults and pasta for Maeve. My mouth waters; it smells delicious.

“Do you believe it? I’ve been losing my mind with work and finishing preparations for the big day.” Scarlette squeezes Braeden’s hand. “But it’ll all be worth it in the end to be married to this guy.”

“It sure will, babe,” Braeden says and gives me a sympathetic look. It’s the same one he’s been giving me since my wife walked out on me and Maeve six months ago and didn’t so much as leave a note and hasn’t reached out since. I get it. He feels bad that he and his girl are getting married and my wife ripped my heart out. I’m not over it, hell no, but I hate seeing my brothers feel sorry for me and think they’ve got to lessen their excitement for the joys in their own lives. It isn’t right. Damn Maggie for doing this to us.

It’s remarkable how quickly a cloud moves over the dinner table. “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry, Patrick,” she apologizes, not out of accountability, but to voice the unfairness of the situation.

“Please, guys. Don’t worry about me, okay? Your wedding day is coming up and it’s a big deal. Don’t feel like you’ve got to censor yourselves around me.” I lift my wine glass and take a generous swallow.

“Of course, man. Let’s change the subject. Didn’t you have to interview nannies today?” Braeden asks. The perfect segue for me to ask about Carsen.

“Yes. Two of them were horrible, but the woman you recommended, Scarlette, was great.” I try to tone down my enthusiasm about her. It’s hard though. Thinking about her gets me a little giddy. And I don’t get giddy.

Scarlette’s face lights up. “Isn’t she great? I’m glad you liked her.”

“She had a chance to meet Maeve.” I look at my daughter who’s piling spaghetti noodles into her mouth. “Carsen was great with her. I offered her the job. She’s moving in tomorrow.”

Standing up to refill our wine glasses, Scarlette says, “She’ll be fantastic. I’ve never met a more mature twenty-three-year-old. She was wonderful to mentor.”

“Is that how the two of you met?” I ask, not quite remembering exactly what she told me about Carsen. Since Scarlette teaches at Charlottesville High School, I assumed it was there.

“Yes, she wanted some volunteer hours in the school to pretty up her UVA application. I know her mother; we had waitressed together years ago, so when she reached out to me, I wanted to help her out. Carsen’s mother works hard and would always swap shifts with me. It worked out and I was able to get Carsen right in. She assisted me in class and always stepped up to the plate doing any admin crap I handed her. She’s a hard worker and I was sad to see her go when the semester was over. I’m sure she’ll be a fabulous teacher one day or whatever she decided to do with her degree, but her art is stunning.”

“She briefly mentioned that she was going to UVA for art in the fall part-time, but never said anything about what she’d like to do with her degree,” I say.

“She got accepted into the studio art program. She’s going to be great at whatever she does though. She didn’t have an easy upbringing and she thrived nonetheless.” Scarlette gives me a slow shake of her head.

It’s becoming clear to me that Carsen is a go-getter. It’s nice to hear it from someone I trust, like Scarlette. “Thank you for the recommendation. I think she’ll work out just great.” And I’m definitely going to keep my hands off her.

“You’re welcome,” she says.

“Did you hear that Jax and Amelia are moving in the house this weekend?” Braeden asks.

Nodding, I say, “Yeah, he told me at work yesterday that it was finally time.” I’m happy for my brother Jackson. He got his shit together and found a nice woman, proposed to her, and built them a house. Both of my brothers’ lives are moving forward while mine continues to stay stagnant.

It’s best for me to keep my feelings to myself. Talking about it only upsets everyone and gets me nowhere closer to figuring out why my wife left me, if she’s ever coming back, or even if she still loves me.

“Hey, any word from the private investigator?” Braeden asks before he takes a huge bite of chicken.

Scarlette throws him a death stare. So much for keeping the mood light.

“No, it’s okay, guys. You’re curious, I don’t mind answering questions. I still have him on hold.” I decided to hire a P.I. to try and find Maggie at least. “Part of me wants to leave it alone. If she wanted to talk to me, she’d do it.” If she doesn’t want me or our baby, maybe I should accept it and get over it. Easier said than done though. At this point I’ve been contemplating seeing an attorney. It’s on my to-do list just to see what my rights are at this point. There’s only so long that I can swim in denial and it’s starting to get old.

“What about from her mother?” Braeden asks, a tentative slant to his brow.

Draining my wine glass, I set it in front of me with more force than is necessary and say, “No. Not a word and I have no intensions of calling her.” Maggie’s mother is just that, Maggie’s mother, or as I always thought of her as the ice queen. If Maggie reached out to confide in her, there is no way she would let me know. We were never close and in the ten years we were married never once came to our home to visit. Not even after Maeve was born. Maggie did go to Florida to visit her, but she went alone. She’s extremely protective of her only child and I don’t doubt that Maggie has reached out to her. The last contact I had with her mom was months ago after Maggie first went missing. There’s been no contact since then.

If I knew why, maybe this wouldn’t be so damn hard. I’ve got no answers to the swirl of questions wracking my brain. Did you fall out of love with me? Did you regret having a baby with me? Why did you leave and not tell me why? Did I not love you enough? Is it over between us? These are the things that keep me up at night, that only allow me to sleep for three or four hours at best.

Maeve starts to fuss and bang on the tray of her high chair, sending small bits of saucy spaghetti and beans all over the floor around her. It’s the perfect distraction. I stand up and unhook her out of her seat and take her in my arms. “What’s the matter, peanut? You seem tired. Want to go home and get to bed?”