The Nanny and the Playboy

At least she’d gotten the chance to feel love.

****

Wayne watched her go, and every single part of him was screaming to go and get her. Damn it.

He was being a fucking asshole, and there wasn’t any excuse for that.

Brian came out of the room with a towel around his shoulders. “Your girl is doing well. The break wasn’t that severe. A couple more weeks and she’ll be good as new. She’s a strong one. Pretty damn amazing, if I do say so myself.”

“How is she?”

Brian was a friend, and Wayne had helped him through college when he needed it. No one knew of Wayne’s part in helping Brian off the streets and turning his life around. He kept his business to himself, and he only allowed the world to see what he wanted them to. The pictures of himself, Timothy, and Temperance were already too much.

“She’s … withdrawn most of the time. Rarely speaks. Gets to work, and then leaves. She seems upset all the time.”

“Don’t tell her you work for me, or that I’m the one paying you.”

“She’s the one from the newspaper, right?”

“Yes.”

“I figured as much. The image was always a little blurry. They zoomed in on you and the kid.”

“Thank you for the update, Brian.” Wayne left, climbing into his car and going straight to the office.

Robert would get his nanny, and Temperance would once again be caring for other people’s kids while putting her own future on hold to help others. He nodded at Frances, and she held up a stack of letters for him.

“I’ll be in for the contract sign in just a moment.”

He didn’t say anything, heading into his office and putting the large stack of mail on his desk. Three weeks and his life had returned to somewhat normal.

Rubbing at his eyes, he leaned back in his chair and released a sigh. It wasn’t normal. His life was so fucking empty. The apartment still had the toys on the table. The cleaner had tidied them away when she came to clean, and he’d put them back exactly where they’d been. He’d even gone into Timothy’s room and put everything back after she cleaned it up.

He missed them both.

Timothy’s giggle. The way he ran past him making plane noises. Temperance’s laugh along with her humming as she did something.

The scents that filled his apartment were gone. No cookies baked, or spaghetti and meatballs. Did anyone else know what Timothy liked?

“Here you go, sir,” Frances said. She had a clipboard in front of her. He looked at them and just stared, the writing going blurred.

“Do you think I’m a monster?” he asked. There was no answer, and he turned to his very reliable PA. “You can answer freely.”

“I really don’t know what to say right now.”

“Just the truth.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster. I believe you’ve made decisions that are not necessarily very good.” She pulled the clipboard to her. “Did it really hurt for you to keep the boy?”

He shook his head. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I miss them.”

“Them?”

“Temperance and Timothy. What the magazines were saying were true.”

“About her being a gold-digger?”

“No. We were having a relationship.” He shook his head. “It was only a couple of days away, a week in total, and yet … my apartment has never felt empty before. Now it is. I can imagine them there, you know, dancing, laughing, singing. I’m going insane.”

Frances took a seat in the chair opposite his desk. “If you feel this way, then why did you do it? Why did you prepare and plan everything?”

“Because I didn’t think for a second that I’d want it all, or that I’d want it for longer than a couple of days. I know, I’m an asshole.” He growled, throwing back his chair. “It’s not supposed to be like this.”

“Do you love them?” Frances asked.

Wayne paused. His heart pounded, and as he looked at Frances, he couldn’t lie to her. “Yes.” Just by saying that, he felt ecstatic. He loved them both.

“Have you thought to putting a call through to see what is happening to Timothy, or maybe even ask if you could start adoption papers?” Frances asked.

He took another seat. “I could do that?”

“Yes. You can.” She smiled at him. “When are you going to realize that you can do anything so long as you put your mind to it?”

“Temperance?” he asked.

The smile dropped. “It may be easier to win Timothy back. I saw her in that hospital room. You hurt her, and even if she does love you, you’d have to win her back.”

He rubbed his hands together, trying to figure something out. “I need to be able to get Timothy back. I need to prove to her that I know I was wrong, and it’s not just a bunch of words.”

“Maybe start by sending some flowers.”