The Alpha’s Nanny (Lori and Gabriel) novel Chapter 22

**The Ocean Remembers Everything**
**By Julia Allan**
**Chapter 22**

The atmosphere at dinner was thick with an unspoken tension, an almost palpable silence wrapping around the three of them. They sat at the table, forks clinking softly against plates, each lost in their own thoughts. The only interruption to the quiet was Emilia, who fussed occasionally, her tiny whimpers punctuating the stillness. Lori had thoughtfully brought over the baby carrier, allowing Emilia to be nestled safely while they attempted to enjoy their meal in relative comfort.

After the last bite was swallowed, Lori excused herself, retreating to her room for a much-needed shower. Meanwhile, Gabriel remained in the living room, cradling Emilia in his arms. He gently set up the mamaroo, a soothing contraption designed to mimic the calming motions of being held, before opening his laptop to tackle some work.

Lori felt a wave of gratitude wash over her as she closed the door behind her, cherishing even these fleeting moments of solitude, however brief they might be. She dashed to her room, shedding her clothes with a sense of urgency, as if the fabric weighed her down. Glancing at her phone, she noted the absence of notifications. Not that she had expected any, but a small flicker of hope lingered in her heart that perhaps the Fullers might reach out, if only to acknowledge her existence.

With a heavy sigh, she contemplated the futility of holding onto that hope. Maybe it was time to let go, she mused, her thoughts swirling like the steam rising from her shower. Did she truly need closure? Did she need to stand over her son’s grave to find peace? The image of Mrs. Fuller’s face flashed in her mind—an expression of pure anger and disgust that haunted her. It was as if they believed that by hiding their son away, they were punishing her, making her pay for her past mistakes.

The hot water cascaded over her, washing away the remnants of her exhaustion and frustrations. She hoped against hope that Emilia would sleep soundly through the night, allowing her to indulge in the luxury of uninterrupted rest. Yet, deep down, a nagging sense of doubt crept in, whispering that such a wish might be too optimistic. As she stepped out of the shower, her hair dripped water onto the floor, a reminder of the chaos that often accompanied motherhood.

Once back in her room, she dried off quickly and slipped into a nightshirt, opting to forgo a bra. After all, she would be breastfeeding soon enough, and comfort took precedence over modesty. Standing before her vanity, she combed her damp hair, wishing for a hairdryer to hasten the drying process. The thought of going to bed with wet hair was unappealing, but Emilia’s cries soon broke her concentration.

The sound of her daughter’s hungry wails echoed through the house, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching her door. Lori braced herself, knowing what was coming. Sure enough, a gentle knock followed.

“Coming!” she called, moving swiftly to open the door. Gabriel stood there, his expression a mix of concern and helplessness as he held the wailing baby.

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