For some reason, my mouth twitches, too. “This is what pigging out is like,” I say solemnly. “Watch and learn.”
Mary giggles, and it turns into laughter. “Daddy is funny,” she says.
Cole laughs, too, spitting food everywhere. “Funny.”
I freeze with a forkload halfway to my mouth. “I am?”
Octavia says nothing, forking a tiny amount of food into her mouth. Her eyes sparkle, though, and I’m left staring at her, my food suddenly forgotten.
There’s something in the way her lashes curve over her eyes, the way her lips part that has me fucking breathless. She’s not looking at me, but I can’t look away.
Fuck me with a rusty fork. I can’t help myself when she’s right in front of me. My dick is hard and my skin prickling all over. I want her.
With my kids at my sides, at the kitchen table, on the night she’s leaving us.
Jesus Christ, Matt.
And you, dick. Down. Haven’t we been over all the reasons why this won’t be happening again? Why it was the mother of all bad ideas in the first place—and look where it’s led us. To Octavia leaving.
Easier said than done. Then again, what’s new?
The dinner has gone to ashes in my mouth. I put my fork down, unaccountably depressed. “So… is this like the last supper? Farewell dinner and cake?”
She laughs, covering her mouth with her hand.
It wasn’t meant to be funny. What’s funny about it? I’m asking in all seriousness, and I hate how tight my chest is. Because I fucked up badly, and I know it.
Still… Reasons, Matt. You know it’s for the best that she goes. You knew it’d be for the best if she’d never set foot inside the house, but you let her in anyway.
Like I said. Can’t help myself.
Can’t now, and couldn’t then.
Dammit.
The kids take their slice of cake to eat in front of the TV, squabbling about which program to watch. I can see them from where I’m sitting in the kitchen, their little heads bent together as they fight over the remote control.
I grin.
Strong-willed, cute little shits.
Reminding me so much of their mom.
And not only. It hits me as I look back at Octavia. It hits me every time just how much she reminds me of Emma.
Which is sick. Which is why I said no to her the first time—and the second, and the third. Why I told her not to wear dresses, like Emma liked to do. Not to be around my kids, act like their mom.
It scared me. I can’t replace Emma. Can’t let myself fall for a girl because she reminds me of my dead wife.
But she’s not a mirror image of Emma, is she? The more I get to know her, the more different she seems, in so many fucking ways. She’s more innocent, more fragile. Emma was tough like nails, tougher than she should have been at that age.
Octavia is softer, sweeter. More fragile. Easier to break. I can’t bear to be the one to break her.
My chest squeezes again. What the fuck am I thinking?
There’s a thick slice of cake on my plate, a pretty girl across from me, and I just… can’t do this.
Needing to punch something to feel better, or stop thinking, I push my chair back and prepare to storm out, find my poison and drink it up.
“Matt.”
Her soft voice stops me in my tracks. I sit back down. “What?”
“You said… you said your kids have the best nanny already.” Her eyes seem too bright. I can’t read her expression.
“That’s right.”
She pokes at her cake. A frown draws her brows together, then fades. A smile flits over her mouth and is gone.
Is that a good sign? Damn, I wish I could read her better.
“Look,” she says quietly. “My mom… we have some debts. I need the money.”
Of course she does. What was I thinking? That’s why she’s still here. It makes me feel like shit, and I deserve it. “I get it.”
“But I also love your kids. I love this job.”
I watch her face. Determination tightens her fine features, that core of steel of hers shining through her gaze. “Yeah?”
“Let’s forget what happened last night,” she says quietly. “You need a nanny. And I need a job.”
“All right.”
What am I doing? Letting her go would be the smart thing to do.
I guess I’m not that smart. And as for forgetting… maybe she can, but I’m coming to realize I can’t. Not the damn hot sex, nor the fact she came to look for Cole with me, that she stayed with my kids today despite my assholery, cooked us dinner and made up her mind to stay.
Yeah, I can’t put it behind me and erase the traces. But I nod anyway, because she was right the first time.
I don’t just need a nanny.
I need her.
Whatever that means.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Octavia
I can do this.
After all, it was my decision—all of it. Insisting to work for Matt Hansen, practically pushing my way into his house and his life, and last night… it was my decision, too. Maybe not entirely conscious at the time, but still.
I agreed to it. I accepted it.
Wanted it like few things in my life.
Matt gives me the money I spent on shopping, and asks for a list of things I need for the house, for the kids, for the kitchen. It’s a strange feeling, running a house.
Then again… not really. I’ve run our house most of the time, since Mom is out working at all times. It’s weird because it’s another house.
His house.
Makes me feel like I’m part of his family. His girlfriend, his wife… Which is a trip down the rabbit hole.
Makes me wonder how he must feel.
I cast him a glance as I get ready to go and stop buttoning up my coat.
He’s sitting on the sofa, sprawled back, powerful shoulders pressed to the cushions, watching his kids play at his feet. His arms aren’t folded over his chest, his hands not clenched into fists, instead lying by his sides.
He looks more relaxed than I’ve seen him in days, his eyes sleepy, shaded by his lashes.
With his dark hair and beard, with those pretty eyes, that broad chest and long legs, God… He’s so handsome my mouth dries up.
This is such a bad idea…
I know I said we should forget all about it—but how do you forget your first night? Your first sex experience with a handsome guy, who also happens to be your boss and whom you’ll see day after day? I’m still smarting from the aftermath, but the sex itself? It was so good. Just thinking about it makes me throb deep inside.
Just then he looks up, catches my gaze and his gaze sharpens, narrows.
And he smiles, a faint, soft curve of his lips that brands itself on my soul and stays with me as I take the bus home and lie in my bed in the night.
He has beautiful smile, even hesitant and uncertain like now. I’d love to see him grin. As a matter of fact, what would his laughter sound like?
So I lie in my bed and wonder… what would it take to hear it?
The next couple of days pass smoothly enough. Matt went shopping like he promised and brought back everything I could think of and then some. We stuffed the fridge and cupboards, and there’s even ice cream and cookie dough in there.