The Nanny

5. Paige

His expression is genuinely stunned, which makes me feel a little better about being duped. At least it doesn't appear as though he did it on purpose—just a storm of circumstances that got him through the door without me being my usual meticulous self.

"Blimey," he says. "What do you reckon the chances are of that?"

Right now? One hundred percent.

Part of me wants to grill him on what he actually knows about running a household and looking after children. Almost every man I've ever known, including my father, left child rearing and housework to their partner. It's one of the reasons I've preferred raising Joey on my own. Most of my friends seem to be parenting solo anyway or relying on nannies, who are also women. Might as well cut out the stress of having to consult a partner or pretend to consider another opinion. What I want, I get. Easy and clean.

Chloe is drooling around her fist, and her brown eyes are fixated on me. She looks healthy and happy. Points for him. Despite the choices I've made, true single parenting, especially of an infant, has substantial challenges. It's why I've always had a nanny. A female nanny.

But maybe this arrangement will be fine. As long as I feel safe and Joey is safe, our employment deal will stand. Prove to my sister she doesn't know me as well as she thinks. Not only can I keep a nanny for a whole year, but a male nanny at that. Who wouldn't be impressed by that flexibility?

Of course, the only way out would be if I could find a woman named Ashley to replace this one. Then my sister would be none the wiser since all she knows right now is the name of the person I hired. But if women in England aren't called Ashley, finding a substitute might be too tall of an order. My mind spirals into a few other scenarios where I could get rid of the male Ashley in favor of a female one, but all of them require elaborate ruses and a high chance of discovery when Gwen comes to visit. She'd sniff out my lies like she always does.

"If you don't need me," Ashley says. "I'll go unpack. Send us a text, yeah, when you fancy the curry? Me and Chloe will come down to sort out the takeaway order."

"Oh, I—" But he's gone from the kitchen before I can mount a protest. Did I agree to the curry? I'm not even sure I like Indian food.

On the counter, beside the sink, is the dirty bottle. The temptation to clean it is very strong, but if I start doing his work for him now, there'll be no end. I've never lived with a man before, but I've seen and heard enough from friends. Give them an inch, and they'll take a mile.

Rather than succumbing to the urge to clean, I scoop Joey and his car off the tile floor, and I carry them both into the living room. If I can't see the bottle, it won't bother me so much.

~ * ~

Since I don't let Joey watch television or have any other electronic devices, I'm reading him a book when Ashley and Chloe wander into the living room.

"Tea time?" Ashley asks. "I'm feeling a bit peckish."

Words are coming out of his mouth, but the meaning might as well be a foreign language. "You're looking for a cup of tea?"

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "No, that'd be 'do you fancy a cuppa'." He adjusts Chloe in his arms, and she snuggles into the crook of his neck.

I cannot deny the appeal of a man with a baby. Something instinctual is sprouting in my abdomen, as though my ovaries are flowering, watered by the tenderness and warmed by their obvious closeness. Whatever else I might believe about other men, he seems to be a good father.

"If tea is a cuppa, then what is the tea you're asking about?" Joey takes the book from my hands when I don't turn the pages fast enough.

"The evening meal?"