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“Uh-uh.”
“Well, I do. And it smells yummy.”
The eggs! I darted back to the stove and stirred them just in time. They might’ve been a little browner than I typically liked, but at least they weren’t burned.
“Dada!” Zoe’s shout bounced off the kitchen walls.
I turned around just in time to catch my daughter as she leapt for me. Of course, being so little, she didn’t jump very far. Her tiny arms wrapped around my knees, and I swear to god, I felt them wrapped even tighter around my heart.
Bending down, I grabbed her under her arms and lifted her until she could wrap her tiny arms around my neck. I held her tight. “Love you, Zo-Zo.”
“Lub you, Dada.” She gave me a smacking kiss to the cheek then shrieked, “Bacon!”
And I had to laugh. Honestly, I wasn’t sure which she loved more—me or bacon. I was too afraid to ask. “It’s almost ready. How about you sit at the table with Briar, and I’ll bring you your bacon?”
“Bacon!” Zoe screamed in my ear, and I winced.
The next thing I knew, Briar’s husky laughter filled my ears. It was such a welcome reprieve from my daughter’s piercing screams, I smiled reflexively. Then I opened my eyes and she was right there. In front of me. Smiling. Only her eyes were on Zoe and not me.
Briar held her arms out to Zoe. “Come on, peanut. Let’s go sit so your daddy can finish cooking your bacon.”
“Bacon!” Zoe happily dove from my arms to Briar’s.
As Briar walked over to the table with Zoe, I heard her ask, “Want to sing a song? ‘ABCs’? Or ‘Going on a Bear Hunt’?”
“Hunt!”
For the first time in a long time, it felt like everything was clicking like it should at home. Zoe was happy. She had an amazing nanny. But I felt off. Like I was missing something.
The thought bugged me as I ate breakfast with Zoe and Briar. I still laughed and enjoyed my time with my daughter, but I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with our dynamic.
Throughout the day, I checked the video feeds in the house whenever I could. But I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. Briar and Zoe played dolls, watched Sesame Street, had a snack, and now were getting ready to come visit me.
What wasn’t I seeing? What was off?
It clearly wasn’t Briar or Zoe. They both loved spending time with each other. And Briar was amazing—she kept Zoe engaged, never lost her cool, and was a pro dealing with the toddler tantrums.
What the hell was bugging me then?
And then I realized.
I wasn’t watching Zoe.
I was watchingBriar.
The way the light bounced off her blonde hair. The way she ducked down to talk to Zoe on her level. And the way that action made her skirt cup her tight little ass.
Fuck.
I had the hots for my daughter’s nanny.
I was the proverbial pervy dad.
The realization did not improve my mood the rest of the day. I sucked on set. I flubbed lines. I called my costar Briar instead of Bobby—and he was a guy so that one really stood out.
As I walked to my trailer for my break, Adam passed me my phone. My fingers itched to check the video feeds again, but I knew I had to treat this as an addiction and go cold turkey.
No more creeping for me.
