“Who’s that?” Declan calls over the buzz of his electric shaver. He’s not even dressed for the office yet.
“No clue!” I yell back. “Solicitor? Milkman? Friendly British neighbor introducing themselves?”
“Doubt it. No one’s that bloody friendly before eight. Probably someone trying to sell us overpriced jam.”
I snort back a laugh as I head down the stairs with kids in tow. Willow’s much too nosy to stop shadowing me now and Emmett’s sucking on his pacifier as he clings to my hip. Through the glass cut outs on the door, I can see it’s a woman on our front step.
It takes me a whole other second to realize just which woman it is, like the fact that it’s thenannywe’ve hired on.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath. “She’s early.”
“Oooh, Mommy said a bad word!” Willow gasps scandalously, bouncing on her feet. She tugs at my robe.“Mommy, does that mean you have to put a quarter in the swear jar? Mommy? Mommy!”
“Willow, shhh. Not now.” I turn toward the door and draw it open, putting on a polite smile. “Chelsea? I thought that was you. You’re an hour early.”
The brunette is in another long cardigan, her eyes bright from behind her large glasses. She holds up a white box full of pastries and a drink carrier holding several coffees.
“Good morning!” she chirps. “I’m sorry, I know it’s early. But I thought it would be nice to start the week with a treat. I stopped by Frans Café and picked the family up some breakfast. I hope you don’t mind?”
“Oh… that was… very thoughtful of you.”
“Mmm, are those donuts?” Willow says nosily from my side, sniffing at the air.
Chelsea laughs softly. “I’m afraid not. Brits aren’t known for donuts, sweetheart. But I’ve brought some tasty scones and treacle tart! I’m sure you’ll love those just as well.”
“Treacle… tart?” Willow stammers, raising a brow.
“Come in,” I say, stepping aside. “And thank you for bringing us breakfast. You didn’t have to.”
“It was no problem at all. It was on the way, and I’m a caffeine addict myself.”
“Then you’re in the right household. Between Declan and me, we probably have a pot a day.” I glance down at my robe and pajamas, still balancing an ever-fussy Emmett on my hip. “Do you mind if I head up to change? I’ll be down in a few minutes. Willow, why don’t you show Chelsea where the kitchen is?”
“Okay!” Willow squeaks. She pivots at once and starts the opposite way down the hall. “It’s over here!”
Chelsea exchanges a smile with me, then follows in Willow’s wake, clutching the box of pastries and coffee carrier.
I head back upstairs to change. I’m not the only one—Declan is in the middle of buttoning up his dress shirt. He cocks a curious brow at me as I enter our bedroom and gently lay Emmett down on the bed.
“She’s here already?”
“She said she wanted to start the day with a treat. She brought us coffee and scones.”
“That’s… a bit much, isn’t it?” he thinks aloud, turning to the floor-length mirror. He reaches for his tie next, looping that around his neck and tying the front knot. “Still, fair play to her. Smart to butter us up early. Weareher employers.”
I hum, coming up from behind him. I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders, but because of our significant height difference, I’m barely visible in the mirror. It automatically brings a grin to his face as he watches our reflection—barely the top of my head until I stand on tip toe and rest my chin on his shoulder, then press a kiss to the side of his neck.
“Thanks, babe,” I mutter.
“For what, love?”
“For doing this for us. For me.”
He turns around to face me, cupping my chin to draw us even closer. “What have I always told you? It’s my job to make your life easier. That’s what she’s here for. To take some weight off. Maybe then you’ll get some bloody words down.”
I laugh before we come together for a sweet kiss on the lips. Declan finishes with his tie and I throw on some real clothes (ones Ihaven’tslept in).
We come downstairs as a family, with me carrying a freshly diapered Emmett and Declan clutching his satchel, ready for another day at the office.
