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“Wow!” His eyes light up as he follows the rotation of the door, and I laugh despite the squirming in my stomach. After finally clarifying where I stand with Roman, I only feel more nervous. It was easier to pretend this wasn’t happening at all than to acknowledge it, put a label on it.
And Leo barging in on us this morning only confirmed how risky this is. I don’t want to confuse him or my role in his life.
But even without Roman added to the equation, I know it’s too late for that. I love this little boy more than any nanny should love their client’s children. I’m not sure if I’d ever survive leaving him now.
We head up to the top floor, where Roman’s office is, glad to find that we skipped the marketing department on the floor beneath. I don’t feel like facing Brandon after having sex with his best friend, though I know Roman will have to warn him about our new little fake marriage arrangement.
As soon as Leo sees his dad’s mahogany office door, he runs in. Roman’s face brightens and he stands, taking Leo into a tight bear hug.
He isn’t the same man he was a few weeks ago, and the change takes my breath away, leaving me dumbfounded. He’s really trying to be better — because I asked him to.
I try to rearrange the soft smile lingering on my face as I close the door behind us.
“Look what I got!” Roman shakes a bag of McDonald's, and Leo grins.
“Chicken nugs?”
“Yep.”
I’m shocked he would even allow greasy food in this pristine office, especially considering his obsession with healthy meals. His fridge is full of fruit and veg, most of which go rotten because Roman isn’t there to cook and Leo despises anything green.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Call me when you want me to pick him up.” I make to leave, but Roman calls me back.
“Madison, stay. I bought extra food. You like the grilled chicken wraps, right?”
“Yeah, Madison.” Leo is already munching on a nugget, perched on Roman’s knee like the happiest kid in the world. “Stay!”
My chest flutters, and I frown. “How’d you know my McDonald’s order?”
Roman shrugs, pulling out two boxes of fries and setting them down over napkins. “That time Brandon burned your mom’s roast chicken so we had to have takeout instead. We went to pick up everyone’s order.”
“I’d forgotten that.” Slowly, I sit, feeling lightheaded by his sharp memory. That must have been at least two years ago, and I distinctly remember Roman picking unhappily at his own Filet-O-Fish, claiming he didn’t enjoy cheap, greasy food.
But I do.
“Got you some mozzarella sticks, too.” He pops a fry in his mouth, then slips over another box.
I open it up hungrily, letting out a noise of satisfaction. “Fried cheese is my weakness.”
“I know. Brandon used to put all these on your plate.”
How much has he noticed throughout the years? How much attention has he been paying?
I thought it was none, that we were mutually ignoring one another’s existence, but now I wonder if I was wrong.
“Where is Uncle Brandon?” Leo asks, ketchup smeared all over his mouth.
Roman grabs a napkin and wipes it off quickly. “You can see him on your way out, bud.”
“Is that wise?” I raise an eyebrow.
He matches my stare with an equally defiant one. “Just say the word.” An echo of this morning.
An offer for me to worm my way out of this situation before it becomes explosive.
I know what I’m risking. Brandon is protective. He wouldn’t want me dating a man twenty years older than me, one with a history of being a womanizer, even if he does happen to be his closest friend. This is betrayal, plain and simple — but no amount of guilt can keep me from wanting Roman.
So, I keep my mouth shut and instead help Leo open his Happy Meal toy. Later, when Roman’s desk is a mess of empty bags and boxes and Leo is rolling his new toy car along the walls, we lock eyes again.
