Page 37 of Obsessed Mr. O’Brian

Lola pulls her head back just far enough to give Millie a skeptical look.

“I’ve never visited this city before. Where are we going to explore first? Maybe a park with magical trees? A bakery with secret recipes? A princess’s castle with pretty dresses?”

For a blissful moment, I see the world from her described perspective, where even the mundane holds a sparkle of wonder. Then reality comes crashing down and all the risks shrivel my joy.

“Will you come with me, Ms. Lola?” Millie asks.

My daughter scrunches her features in a defiant no. Her nanny hums and pats her back.

“I can braid your hair if you like?”

Lola perks up.

I rush through getting dressed, loathe to miss even a second of their interaction, and return in time to witness my angel’s slim fingers weaving a second braid into my daughter’s hair. She finishes and wraps a small translucent band around the end.

Lola pats her head. Millie smiles in pure adoration.

This. I want this. Every day. I want to watch Lola grow in Millie’s love.

This is what Lola and I lacked with Regina. My sense of devotion to the woman I thought had saved me crumbles to dust as I feel everything she stole from us deeply in my bones.

After the revelations I found in Millie’s drawings, the hatred festering in my soul finds a new target.

Regina.

She lied and manipulated and hurt so many people on so many different levels. Her motives or intentions don’t matter. She was never going to be the mother Lola needed or the partner I craved.

I should tell Millie her best friend—who must not have been a very good friend at all if she ultimately stole Millie’s accomplishments and man—is not dead, but I can’t. She’ll pull even farther away if she knows Regina could come back.

Regina never will—she made that clear when she faked her death and ran away from our daughter—but Millie is too softhearted to see the selfish liar underneath the sickly sweetness.

When Lola patters back to the array of toys, Millie rises from the edge of the bed with stiff movements. I curse my oversight, rush to my bag for pain relief, grab her barely steaming mug of water from the bedside table, and intercept her before she reaches the bathroom. She accepts the mug and the medicine. I take the handle of her bag as she swallows the pill. She lifts a quizzical brow as she notices. I roll her suitcase into the bathroom and lift it onto the counter before joining her outside the door.

“Thank you, Mr. O’Brian,” she says.

“You’re welcome, Ms. Grant,” I play along.

Before she can disappear into the bathroom, I tuck her hair behind her ear, kiss her temple, and leave her gaping after me as I cross the room.

She slips into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her. When she emerges a few minutes later, I struggle to breathe.

In a long-sleeved, flowy top and khaki pants, with her hair freshly braided and the barest of makeup on her face, she gives off wholesome teacher with a hidden naughty side. Countless sexual fantasies play through my mind, and I wonder if I skipped my horny phase because she wasn’t around.

I clear my throat and adjust my painfully hard cock before lifting the diaper bag off the counter. Millie guides Lola through the final stages of preparing for the day before joining me by the door.

Lola hesitates. Her thumb disappears into her mouth.

“C’mon, baby. Let’s go exploring,” I coax.

Millie holds out her hand.

My daughter chooses her new nanny over her father, but aside from a twinge of jealousy, I my overall reaction is relief. This morning has been the easiest, quietest morning of my life ever since Lola entered it, and it’s all because of Millie.

For the first hour of our expedition, worry keeps me on edge and I consider aborting my sinister plan for the relative safety of the hotel room, but then I realize how often Millie checks in with Lola—not only with the eyes of a caretaker but also with the gaze of a woman who truly cherishes a child—and relinquish my title as Lola’s sole caretaker. Our new nurse nanny is more than capable. I slough the weight of responsibility off my shoulders and fill in the role of protector and provider.

We explore the local park where Millie does indeed make the trees seem magical with her tales of fairies as the wind rustles the leaves. Lola gets so fixated, she forgets to try darting into traffic, and with her face pointed upward, she even pulls her thumb out of her mouth a few times so she doesn’t have to hold up her arm.

Millie chooses a random bistro for brunch, and I unconsciously brace for a meltdown. Lola would rather starve than eat food, hence the feeding tube, and most days she’d rather scream than sit at a table, so I only go to restaurants for business purposes.