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“Come on, before Teddy wakes up.”
He groans but eventually stands as well.
I don’t know if it’s the lack of sleep or the intimacy of waking up next to each other or what, but he leans into me and presses a gentle kiss against my cheek then squeezes one of my hands in one of his.
“See you in a bit,” he tells me, and then he turns and heads off to his room, leaving me standing there with wide eyes and a thundering heart.
***
We settle into a routine as we slowly roll through the heart of summer, and it feels both wonderfully simple and incredibly complicated at the same time.
During the week, I nanny Teddy for most of the day until Colton gets home from teaching. We eat dinner together, and then I usually tuck away in my room to read or do yoga or work on the homework for my MBA.
On Wednesdays, I watch Teddy for a few hours so Colton can play softball with his colleagues, and on Fridays, I take care of Teddy into the evening, giving Colton a night off to go out and be with his friends.
He’s always back around ten, and during the time he spends showering and changing in his room, I slip downstairs to make some tea in the kitchen in my pajamas before he joins me. We usually chitchat then, just the two of us, about how the week went, how his night out was, or any little thing that pops up.
Then on the weekends, I’m free. Sometimes I hang out at the house, but often I meet up with Leighton, the two of us having regular Saturday Sundaes or going out for brunch. Sometimes we bum around at August’s house and watch movies on his massive TV.
It feels simple because it is. There’s nothing wrong with it. I get plenty of time off and time to myself.
But it feels complicated because…well, because I’m beginning to live for the evenings, after I’ve put Teddy to bed, when it’s just me and Colton.
We talk, a lot. About anything and everything. On Fridays, sure, but also on Tuesdays, and on Sundays. Our conversations aren’t limited to one night; they’re free-flowing, constant, and intimate on a level I don’t quite understand.
Part of me knows he probably used to talk to his wife like this. Casual, comfortable, at night after long days apart. Maybe I’m just fulfilling that role for him, being the person he can vent to at the end of a long day when he has no one else.
While I should feel like an interloper, I also know he probably needs the chance to talk to someone. Anyone. The nurturing part of my spirit wants to be that for him, regardless of whether or not it has larger meaning.
But there is another part of me that is slowly developing deeper feelings for him, and that part of me thinks I’m walking a tightrope and risking a dangerous fall at any moment.
Because a man like Colton doesn’t end up with a girl like me, so this…infatuation I have with him, this crush on my boss feels like a mistake on many levels.
***
I’ve been living at Colton’s for three weeks when I realize I need to talk to Leighton about my ever-growing feelings for the incredibly handsome man I work for, the overwhelming nature of them bubbling up to the point where I need to vent or I’m going to explode.
On a Saturday in June, the two of us take a day trip to Venice Beach for Leighton to get a new bathing suit, and then we stop to grab some lunch at a taco truck that’s been making splashes on social media, which is when I spill the beans.
“I think I’m falling for Colton.”
Leighton rolls her eyes, her reaction much more laid back than I expected.
“You act like it’s some big secret. I’ve been able to tell for a while.”
My eyes widen, fear lancing through me unexpectedly. “Do you think Colton knows?”
I can’t imagine anything more mortifying than having my boss find out I’m harboring feelings for him.
“No, you’re too much of a professional. Besides, the guy is only four months out from losing his wife. He’s probably still lost in the fog of his grief,” she tells me. “Unless you’re blowing him. Then I’d say he might have an idea.”
Snorting, I throw a tortilla chip at her.
“You’re disgusting.”
“I just wanna know what it feels like to be a cliche,” she says, holding her half-eaten taco over the small paper tray. “A nanny falling in love with her boss—it’s like from a romance movie or something.”
I scoff. “I am not in love with Colton Palmer,” I insist. “I’m just…very attracted to Colton Palmer. He’s got that sexy dad thing that I did not think was my jam but clearly is.”
