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I sighed when Nori took Daisy’s place. Her hair was damp, and she was changed into a pink t-shirt and pajama set, ready for bed.
Jon, it’s a bad sign when your best friend’s daughter joins your children’s nightly bedtime routine. You’re taking advantage.
“All right, Nori. We’ve been practicing. How do you say goodnight? Show me goodnight?” Simone and I waited with bated breath as she touched her lips with her fingers and placed her hand in her open palm. “Okay, good. You got the first part. Show me night.” She repeated the motion instead of flipping her palm over her arm. “You were so close, Nori.”
I signed ‘goodnight’ to her repeatedly before stealing a hug and sending her to her mother. It was then that I had finally gotten a good look at Simone. The woman looked dead on her feet, and rightfully so. She’d been caring for my gang of children and Nori throughout the day for weeks while I searched tirelessly for a live-in nanny. So far, I couldn’t find anyone that would fit the bill. The candidates were either too authoritative or too lax. One believed that discipline of all forms was a social construct and abusive and expressed that children should “free roam” and choose their own path. I found that to be dangerous rhetoric, and she was dismissed immediately. My children would swing from the chandeliers if you let them.
“I’m gonna tuck the kids in. I fixed their lunches for school already. Is there anything else you need?”
“I’ll tuck the kids in. Thank you for preparing their lunches. Are you okay to drive home?”
Simone sighed and scrubbed her face with her hands.
“I probably shouldn’t, but I don’t want to crash here. Anthony would have a hissy fit.”
“Just relax in the living room, and I’ll have Anthony come pick you up.”
“Thanks. I think I might take you up on that offer,” she said, bending down to pick up Nori. I waited until she left my office to continue my conversation.
“Hey, Anthony. Can—”
“I heard everything. I’m on my way.”
* * *
Anthony knocked on the front door twice before letting himself in. His cane thudded heavily against the hardwood floors. He walked like a man with a purpose, a man on a mission to collect the three loves of his life—Simone, Nori, and the little one on the way. He paused in front of Simone, who lay sprawled on my living room sofa with her mouth wide open and an arm thrown over her head. Nori lay on top of her, mimicking her mother perfectly.
“This is unacceptable, Jonathan,” Anthony said brusquely without taking his eyes off his family.
“I know, and—”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Jonathan. Simone is pregnant and should not be working so hard that she can’t drive a few minutes down the road. At this rate, I’m wondering if she’s still my fiancée or yours. I haven’t had quality time with my family in over a month. When Simone’s not working for you, she’s sleeping, and while I’m thrilled that Nori gets to spend the day socializing with Daisy, my little partner in crime has been missing in action. Enough is enough, Jonathan. You have one week to find a nanny. One week. Not a week and a day—oneweek. Do I make myself clear?” My shoulders sagged in defeat. “Do I make myself clear?” he repeated.
“Yeah, Anthony. We’re clear.”
“Good. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
“No, I don’t think so. I have some more interviews lined up next week. Hopefully, there’ll be a decent candidate in the bunch.”
“Do you think you’re being too picky?”
“What do you mean?” I asked with furrowed brows.
“Do you think you’re being too picky?”
“There’s no such thing as too picky when it comes to your children, Anthony. Not all of us are lucky enough to have our children’s birth mother care for them.”
A pregnant pause lulled between us.
“How has co-parenting with Eliza been?”
“Fucked. That’s how it’s been. She’s only had the kids once since I was awarded full custody. She’s supposed to get them tomorrow evening, but I doubt it. She’ll come up with some bullshit excuse.”
Anthony shook his head and picked up Nori. I knew he wanted to say, “I told you so,” but he was too much of a friend to do it. He understood that while Eliza was a shit partner, I didn’t regret her because regretting her meant regretting my children. My romantic love for Eliza died long ago—before she cheated, dragged me through a messy divorce, tried to overturn the prenup, and demanded sole custody of the children. I remembered the exact moment when I realized I was no longer in love with Eliza Baker. We were at a fundraising event, and she spent the evening dragging me around from one influential person to the next. She introduced me as, “This is my husband. He’s a lawyer.” Clearly, my profession was worth more than my identity as a human being. After that, I threw myself into my work, believing that was all I was good for. She cheated—poorlyat that. She didn’t respect me enough to even try to cover her tracks.
“Hopefully, she comes around,” Anthony said as he roused Simone from her slumber.
“I doubt it,” I remarked, looking away as the couple shared a tender moment. They whispered a greeting to each other as Anthony caressed her stomach and kissed her lips.
