His Nanny Mate (Moana and Edrick Morgan) novel Chapter 68

#Chapter 68: A New Page

Edrick

Now that the issue of Moana’s pregnancy was settled, in our household at least, I felt much more at peace than before. Ella seemed to get happier by the day, and would chatter away about her future sibling almost every night at dinner. The issue of figuring out how to best bring it up to my parents was still something I would have to deal with, but at least I had a little time; it’ wasn’t as though my father was walking around my penthouse and would see Moana’s growing belly, unlike Ella, who would’ve seen it happening before her very eyes. Part of me wanted to keep up the lie and tell my parents that I wasn’t the father, but I knew that it would be useless with Ella running around. Eight year olds don’t exactly make the best keepers of secrets.

Things seemed to settle down into a new normal over the next several days. The servants were kind to Moana and helped her whenever she needed it, but she was still mostly independent with her work. However, I couldn’t help but wonder if she would really still be considered a ‘nanny’ once she got further on in the pregnancy, and especially once she had the baby. I had the money to continue paying her for caring for Ella, of course, but I did wonder occasionally if it would be appropriate — especially once my family found out.

I just kept telling myself that we could cross that bridge when we came to it, though, and that bridge was still quite a ways away. I could take some time to think about the best plan of action as to how to address it when that time came.

I noticed that Moana seemed to be spending more time doodling in her sketchbook — well, not really doodling, as she was admittedly far better than that. Whenever she had some time to herself while Ella played or was busy with her violin and piano lessons, I would catch her sitting in some sunny corner with her sketchbook in her lap.

If I was being honest, it made me a bit curious. She seemed so focused on her drawings; what, exactly, was she drawing?

She caught me looking a few times, too. But I wasn’t only looking at her sketchbook.

When I would see her in the sunlight, her hair would turn an even more fiery shade of red. And, as the pregnancy progressed, she seemed to have a maternal glow about her that made her even more beautiful. I caught her sometimes looking at me, too, and we’d both quickly look away at the same time with an unspoken rule between us to not say anything about it.

But, when I couldn’t sleep at night, I kept those images of her in my mind; particularly the one image that was still burned into my memories of the morning that I found her sleeping with Ella. Sometimes, just thinking about it made me fall asleep, but most nights it kept me awake more than anything.

I tried not to think about her. It wasn’t the right thing for me to think about her. Even though she was carrying my child, she was still the same as before: my very human nanny. I couldn’t have any sort of romantic relationship with her, and that was final. Even the thought of it had to be cast out of my mind before things went too far.

That was why, one night, I decided to climb out of bed and get myself a drink; maybe the alcohol would make the picture of her in the sunlight leave my mind.

I quietly walked to the living room, barefoot in nothing but my pajama pants, and poured myself a glass of wine at the minibar. I sunk down into the large, plush armchair with a sigh, and swirled the red liquid around in my glass before taking a sip.

“Bleh.” I made a face to myself as I realized that the wine had gotten too warm and now tasted foul. I got up and grabbed the bottle, shuffling over to the kitchen to dump it out into the sink. When I was finished, I walked back to the minibar and decided to go for the old tried and true: whiskey.