Nanny for the Neighbors: Chapter 17

Jack and I are silent on the drive back to the boys’ apartment. I don’t know what to say. My head is spinning. My lips are still tingling from the kiss. I don’t know what to do.

Honestly, I’m scared. Scared of how much I like him. I was perfectly comfortable admiring Jack from afar, nourishing my secret, unrequited crush. But now he’s told me that he feels the same, the whole thing suddenly feels dangerous. Like something could actually happen between us. As I turn the car into my parking space, scenarios flash through my mind. I imagine kissing Jack, running my fingers through his short hair. Curling up with him on a sofa. Raking my hands down his muscled back as he moves slowly on top of me, his lean, sweaty body pinning me to the mattress—

I shake my head hard, trying to displace the images.

No. No. I can’t. I promised myself that I wouldn’t date again. Besides, how would that even work with my job? If Seb found out, he might get rid of me. There’s no point jeopardising my whole livelihood, just to pursue some stupid crush.

I need to pull myself together.

I cut the engine. We both just sit in the front seats for a moment, silent.

“Beth,” Jack starts. “I’m—”

“It’s fine!” I tell him sunnily. I can barely look him in the eye. “Let’s head upstairs. I think jellybean needs her nap!”

He nods, picking her up, and we both head back inside.

When we step into the flat, the first thing I see is Cyrus draped over the living room sofa, wearing a t-shirt and a pair of tight black boxers. My eyes run automatically down his tanned, muscled thighs before I can force myself to look away.

I’m not sure what his deal is. So far, all I’ve seen him do is sleep, go clubbing, and lounge around the flat half-naked. He’s clearly not lazy—the biceps bulging out of his t-shirt make that pretty obvious—but I have no idea what he does all day.

He lifts his arms immediately as we step inside. “Missed you, ladybug,” he calls. “Come here.”

I carry Cami over, and he hugs her to his chest. “Missed you too, Bethie.” He tugs one of my curls.

I feel myself blush, turning to the shopping bags. “Another late night?” I ask lightly. “Or are you just a fan of naps?”

I don’t mean it as a jab, but an irritated frown flickers over his face, so fast I’m not sure I even see it.

A door in the hallway clicks open, and Seb steps into the living room. He looks surprised when he sees all of the bags, like he didn’t even know we were going shopping, then clears his throat.

“Jack, one of the betas found a glitch with the dialogue in the Emerald Lagoon scene. Said that the mermaids skip a few lines in one of the dialogue pathways.”

Jack swears under his breath. “On it.” He bends and passes Cami her lion toy. “Here’s your favourite,” he emphasises, making Cyrus scowl. “Hey, it’s bigger than your bunny, huh? It must feel nicer to cuddle.”

“The bunny is softer,” Cyrus argues. “Crap, where is it?” He starts patting around the sofa for the toy.

I step in between them before they start a dick-measuring competition over their stuffed animals. “I think Cami’s ready for her nap,” I say diplomatically, extricating her from Cyrus’s arms and carrying her to the cot in the corner of the room. She flops down on the mattress, but her eyes are wide open, so I stroke her hair back, singing under my breath. I can’t remember any lullabies, so I just sing ‘The Room Where It Happens’ from Hamilton very quietly, and hope she finds it soothing.

Eventually, her tiny eyes close. Jack disappears into his bedroom. Cyrus mutters something about the gym, grabbing his bag and heading out of the front door. And then it’s just me and Sebastian.

“Good trip?” He asks tightly.

I nod. “Jack got a lot for her.” I can’t quite keep the reproach out of my voice.

“Can I help unpack it?”

I blink, surprised at the offer. “I… sure.”

He sits down on the linoleum and opens up the first bag. After one last glance at Cami, I join him, sitting on the floor at his side. Together, we unpack the clothes and toys in silence. I watch as Sebastian methodically pulls out each item of clothing, removes the tags and hangers, and folds it into a perfect square. All of his movements are so careful and precise, it takes me a few minutes to realise that his hands are shaking.

“Hey. Are you feeling okay?” I ask.

“Yes.” He doesn’t elaborate, picking up a yellow t-shirt covered with smiling flowers. In the middle, in glittery letters, are the words Dad’s Favourite Girl. “I assume you picked this one out,” he murmurs, sounding annoyed.

I shake my head. “It must have been Jack.”

“Ah.” Seb looks down, his hair falling into his face. “Right.” He studies the shirt for a few seconds, then folds it up, adding it to the t-shirt pile.

I sigh, some of the anger in me fading. I’m still not thrilled with the way he’s been acting, but the poor guy looks absolutely exhausted. Maybe I should cut him some slack. “Look. I get that this is a lot to process.”

“I would say that’s an understatement.” He picks up a pair of tiny pink socks and stares at them, an odd expression on his face. He looks almost longing.

“And I do sympathise,” I continue. “I really, really do. It’s not fair that Cami’s mother kept her secret from you. It’s not fair that you’ve become a dad overnight. But it’s more unfair that a tiny baby was abandoned on your doorstep. Whatever’s holding you back from Cami, you need to get over it. Now. She needs you to step up and be her dad.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “It’s more complicated than that,” he says stiffly.

“How? You had sex, now there’s a baby, and she’s your responsibility.”

“I’m not talking about responsibility, I’m talking about capability. I’m just not—”

We’re interrupted by a sudden cry from the crib. Seb looks up immediately. “Is she okay?” He asks, sounding alarmed.

I nod, standing and stretching out my back. “Hungry, I think. It’s been a while since she ate.”

He jumps to his feet. “I can make her a bottle.”

I’m surprised. “You know how?”

“I watched you do it yesterday.” He heads to the kitchen. Bemused, I pick up Cami and carry her over to the sofa. She squirms, crying quietly, and I rub her back, offering her the lion Jack picked out. She clutches at it, sniffling.

“That’s it,” I tell her. “Don’t worry. Your dad is making you some food.”

There’s some clattery kitchen sounds, then Seb reappears, offering me a warm bottle.

“Thanks!” I jog Cami on my knee. “Do you want me to show you how to feed her?”

He’s silent for a few seconds. “I guess you should,” he says eventually. I have to try not to laugh at his face. He looks like a man who’s been sentenced to death.

“Here.” I pat the sofa cushion next to me. He eases himself down, and I put Cami in his arms. He holds her away from his body, like a bomb that he’s scared will detonate.

I put my hand on his bicep. “Relax your arms,” I say quietly, ignoring the hard muscle under his shirt. “She won’t feel comfortable if you’re all rigid.”

He does, holding Cami a little closer.

“That’s good. Keep her upright, with her head in the crook of your arm.” He doesn’t move, so I gently manipulate his arms until he’s holding Cami properly. She stops crying and blinks up at him, her brown eyes curious. I hand him the bottle. “Tilt it, so there’s not too much air getting in the top. She should latch on pretty quickly.”

He holds the bottle to her mouth, and watches as she latches onto the rubber teat, gulping away happily. I rub her belly. “Aw, you were hungry, huh?”

His brow furrows. “Did Jack not feed her enough this morning?”

I shake my head. “We tried to give her a morning snack when we were out, but she was too excited.”

Seb doesn’t say anything, looking wide-eyed at his daughter as she cuddles up to him, glugging away. Slowly, he reaches up and brushes a curl away from her cheek with his finger. She makes a happy noise, kicking her legs, and his lips part.

I smile. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “It does.”

Cami drinks up her whole bottle without any extra encouragement, then starts to fuss again.

Sebastian startles. “What did I do?”

“Nothing. You did great. She just needs to be burped.”

“Why?”

“Babies can’t really burp by themselves. And they swallow air when they drink.”

“That seems like an evolutionary issue,” he says dryly.

“It’s easy.” I drape the burp cloth over his shoulder, then rearrange Cami in his arms. “Just pat her on the back.”

He hesitates, then gives Cami the most pathetic, gentle little tap imaginable. He barely even touches her.

I shake my head. “Harder,” I say. “Give her some firm taps.”

He pats her again gingerly. She squirms, her face reddening with discomfort.

“Harder, Seb. She can handle it. If you don’t burp her, it can be really uncomfortable for her.”

He stares at her, then gives her a slightly firmer pat. Cami suddenly starts wailing, wriggling in his grip, and all of the colour drains out of his face. He shoves her back into my arms. “I can’t,” he rasps, “I can’t do it.”

“But—”

He jumps to his feet and hightails out of the room, leaving me with a very fussy baby and a lot of questions. I stare at his bedroom door as it swings shut, then turn back to Cami.

“What is his issue?” I murmur into her ear, patting her back. She squirms, pulls a face, and spits up down my back, then flops happily against my shoulder, snuggling into me.