If You Give a Single Dad a Nanny: Chapter 27

I LOOK UP AT THE Stafford’s charming two-story Cape-style house. It has a wraparound porch with a swing, similar to mine, and a bright red door. The sidewalk has been cleared of snow from the storm we had last night, and ice crystals are clinging to the trees surrounding the property.

Lola sprints up the porch steps, with Dylan and I trailing behind her. She swings open the front door, leaving it wide open as she races down the hall, shouting for her Gigi and Papa.

Before Dylan can follow her inside, I grab his arm. “Are you sure about this? What if your parents are upset that you invited me?”

He raises a brow. “Have you forgotten my mom’s multiple attempts at setting us up? Trust me, she’ll be over the moon when she sees you’re here.”

We’ve fallen into a new normal in the weeks following my art show. Our morning routine is the same, but our afternoons look much different than before. Waffles and I pick up Lola from school now, and we hang out in my art studio until Dylan gets home from work.

I was worried that Johanna might be disappointed since she usually watches Lola after school. However, Dylan assured me she was genuinely happy about the change. We haven’t told her we’re dating yet, but she must suspect it since Dylan spent the night with me in New York and because of the changes we’ve made to our schedules.

Most nights I have dinner at Dylan’s, then wait downstairs for him while he puts Lola to bed. With his demanding work schedule, I want to make sure they get quality daddy-daughter time whenever possible.

These last three weeks have been the best of my life. After Lola goes to bed, Dylan and I cuddle on the couch while he reviews financial reports, followed by mind-blowing sex. We’ve agreed to not have sleepovers, and it’s getting more difficult to say goodbye to him each night.

Dylan leans in to kiss along the edge of my jaw. “Everything is going to be okay. I promise.”

“I believe you.” I look up at him with an appreciative gaze.

Now that I’ve had a glimpse of what it would be like to be a real family, I can’t shake the feeling that this is where I belong.

Dylan tucks a piece of hair behind my ear as he gently cups my cheek. I lean into his touch, and he seals my mouth with a possessive kiss. Without thinking, I grip the collar of his jacket, tugging him closer, a moan escaping my lips as he slips his tongue inside my mouth.

“Lola, I told you not to leave the door op—”

Dylan and I freeze, spinning around to find Johanna standing in the doorway. Her eyes dart between us, a broad smile lighting up her face.

There’s no doubt in her mind that we’re dating now.

My cheeks turn red as I release my grip on Dylan. I’m mortified that Johanna caught me kissing her son. I expect her to make a dramatic response about what she just saw, but she ignores it entirely.

“Marlow, what a pleasant surprise,” she says, pulling me in for a bear hug. “Dylan didn’t tell me you were coming.” She gives him a disapproving look.

“I hope you don’t mind.” I nervously bite on my lower lip.

“Of course not.” She waves off my concern. “You’re always welcome. Why don’t we go inside? Dinner’s almost ready.”

I follow her into the foyer, taking in the inviting atmosphere I remember from the last time I was here last Christmas Eve. A living room is on the right, and on the left, a stairway leads to the second floor. Like Dylan’s house, whites and grays dominate the space. What sets it apart are the personal touches—photos of the Stafford siblings, a stack of quilted blankets, and various knickknacks.

“Are Cash and Harrison here yet?” Dylan asks.

“Harrison called earlier and said he has a meeting he can’t miss, so he won’t be able to join us tonight.” Johanna frowns. “Cash got here half an hour ago. He’s in the kitchen with your dad and Lola.”

She guides us down the hall to a farmhouse-style open-concept kitchen, featuring exposed ceiling beams, butcher-block countertops, and sage-green cabinets. A massive wooden dining table, with seating for ten, is on the opposite side of the room.

Dylan’s dad is at the kitchen island tossing a salad. He’s wearing tortoiseshell glasses, and with his short black hair and brown eyes, he bears a striking resemblance to Dylan.

“Honey, look who’s here,” Johanna says in a singsong voice.

Mike sets the tongs on the counter and comes over to greet us.

“Hey, son.” He smiles and gives Dylan a pat on the back. “Marlow, what a pleasant surprise. It’s good to see you again.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stafford.”

He chuckles. “Please, call me Mike.”

I hear giggling in the corner and turn around to find Cash and Lola at a craft table near the bay windows overlooking the backyard. As I step closer, I see they’re coloring pictures of unicorns. Lola’s tongue is poking out in concentration as she tries to stay within the lines.

Cash is next to her, hunched over in a chair that is far too small. It’s so sweet that he’s willing to play with Lola. His shaggy brown hair covers most of the scar spanning from his ear to his chin, and I wonder if that’s intentional. Dylan mentioned he was in some kind of accident growing up but hasn’t elaborated.

“Guess what, Uncle Cash?” Lola chirps.

“What’s up, ladybug?” Cash pauses from drawing to give her his undivided attention.

“I’m going to be a daisy in Alice in Wonderland,” she says slowly.

I beam with pride when she gets the name right. We’ve been practicing.

Cash lets out a low whistle. “A daisy, huh? That’s an important role.”

“Uh-huh.” Lola bobs her head up and down. “Daddy and Marlow have been helping me practice every night.”

“Is that so?” He glances over at Dylan with a knowing look. “That’s very nice of them.”

Before either of us can respond, Johanna claps her hands to get our attention. “It’s time to eat,” she announces.

The table has been set with dishes and silverware, and there’s a pan of lasagna along with a salad and homemade breadsticks in the middle. Everything looks mouthwatering. Now I know where Dylan got his culinary skills.

My heart melts as Dylan helps Lola onto her chair and tucks a napkin into her shirt so she doesn’t get her clothes dirty. He comes over to me next, pulling out my chair.

“Thank you,” I say as I scoot in. “Don’t I get a napkin too?” I wink.

“How could I forget?” he teases as he grabs another napkin from the table and places it in my lap.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Mom,” Cash says as he dishes up a large serving of lasagna. “It’s a welcome break from eating out three times a day.”

Dylan told me Cash is overseeing the training of a team for Stafford Holding’s new office in London and has been spending a considerable amount of time there.

“I’m always happy to make you a home cooked meal, sweetheart,” Johanna says enthusiastically. “Oh, that reminds me. I ran into Everly’s mom at Main Street Market the other day, and she told me Everly is living in London, running the Townstead’s European division. Why didn’t you tell me? Have you seen her yet?” Johanna peppers Cash with questions in between bites of her salad.

“Theo mentioned it,” Cash shrugs. “But I haven’t seen her.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Johanna pouts. “She’s a nice girl.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Cash says, averting his gaze.

Dylan leans over to whisper in my ear. “The Townsteads live on the other side of town, and we grew up together. Theo and Cash have been best friends since elementary school. Everly is Theo’s twin sister.”

I nod as I take a sip of my water.

“Marlow.” Johanna turns to me. “I almost forgot to tell you that you should bring Waffles next week. We have a big backyard that he’d enjoy.

I blink at her in shock, not sure if I heard her right. “Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s quite the handful, just ask Dylan.” I nod to him.

“Daddy’s teaching Waffles how to sit,” Lola blurts out as she shovels a forkful of food into her mouth.

“Dylan? Training a dog? Now this I gotta see.” Cash flashes a mischievous grin. “How’s it going, big brother?” he taunts, as if he already knows the answer.

Dylan glares at Cash over his glass of water. He’s had several more unsuccessful training sessions with Waffles. He’s given up on the online videos and contacted a local training facility for advice. I suggested we hire a professional trainer, but he is determined to do this on his own.

“Trained or not, we’d love to have Waffles over,” Johanna says sincerely. “Don’t you agree, Mike?”

“Absolutely. He’s welcome anytime,” Mike assures me from his spot on the other end of the table.

“Thank you.”

Dylan gives my leg a reassuring squeeze. He must know that his parent’s gesture means a lot to me.

Being here gives me a comforting sense of belonging, a stark contrast to feeling like an outsider in my family while growing up. The Staffords have welcomed me with open arms, flaws and all, and a part of me never wants to leave.