Five Men and a Nanny: A Reverse Harem Romance

by Jess Bentley

  The shops here are adorable, swanky like the Magnificent Mile but still old-timey too. It’s like they are quaint on purpose, rather than by just outlasting progress.

  Sophia loves being in her stroller. It’s got all the bells and whistles, including this complicated toy contraption that hangs over her and jiggles as I push it. It’s got way more things than she is even interested in, but it sure looks impressive to everyone else.

  As a matter of fact, she has the best of everything, in multiples. This is the stroller she has in Chicago, too. Magda told me there’s a room full of strollers, cribs, and toys in every Worth Hotel all over the world. It makes it easy to travel light with her.

  I collect a few things in the general store, including some handmade lotions in tiny Mason jars. I guess people around here like to make things by hand for some reason. At twenty-four dollars for two ounces, I can see they still have pretty highfalutin ideas about what things should cost. But it is Nantucket, after all.

  I take the jars up to the old-fashioned cash register and slide them along the counter. The old lady steps up on her toes and leans over the counter to grin at Sophia, who kicks her legs and gurgles happily.

  The register area is kind of small, and I seem to be taking up most of it. I scoot out of the way so the other patrons can browse behind me.

  “That will be $63.41,” the lady tells me sweetly, and I try to conceal my shock. I take the Black Card from my bag and slide it along the counter, half concealing it with my palm. Not sure why I’m embarrassed, but I am.

  The woman frowns apologetically. “I’m afraid we are not set up for American Express, dear,” she informs me. "Do you have another method of payment?”

  My cheeks burn with embarrassment. This hasn’t happened to me in years, and I can’t believe it just happened when I am making a six-figure salary!

  “You know what, Margaret, let me take care of that,” comes a voice behind me.

  “Oh, you don’t have to that,” I babble nervously. “I can probably just go get cash.”

  I turn around to see a tall, doe-eyed redhead with a sad smile and the smoothest, most velvety skin I’ve ever seen.

  “Just add it to mine, Margaret, if that’s all right?”

  “Sure thing, Nina,” the old woman answers.

  My mouth gapes. Instantly I know it’s her. She’s trying not to stare at Sophia, but I know it’s her for certain.

  It’s Nina.

  It’s Sophia’s mother.

  She smiles wanly and takes the bag. “Well, I can tell you’re a perceptive one,” she sighs. “Do you think we could get a coffee or something?”

  My mouth is suddenly dry and I swallow hard.

  “You’ll probably have to buy me that too,” I say stupidly.

  She presses her lips together, smiling but not smiling at the same time. She looks like someone with a lot on her mind, maybe someone who could use a hug.

  “Yes, let’s do that.”

  Sophia continues to gurgle and chatter random syllables to herself, banging at the hanging toys as I roll her out of the shop toward small café. Nina leads the way, and I watch her walk. Her body is taut and muscular, much taller than me with that beautiful red hair. It’s too bad Sophia didn’t get that hair, because it really is spectacular.

  The thought occurs to me that the brothers probably picked her for that hair. They probably selected her specifically, hoping that Sophia would get red hair. They probably spent a lot of time thinking about…

  Okay, I have to stop that, I caution myself. Jealousy will eat you up. Don’t give in.

  Nina guides us to a table in the corner, away from the women with babies, the rich kids in their designer sneakers, and the older couples enjoying a shared scone. She sits in the chair and blinks at me, her expression pleasant and unguarded. Still, I can’t imagine what she must be thinking.

  “I don’t think Royce would approve of our conversation. I should probably say that right up front,” she shrugs. “If you’re not comfortable with that, I would totally understand if you want to leave.”

  “No, I think we’re all right,” I answer, watching the way her eyes change when she finally looks at Sophia. She looks pained, hesitant. Like she knows she’s not supposed to be doing what she’s doing.

  “You can hold her?... if you want?” I tell her timidly, realizing just how ridiculous that is. I’m telling Sophia’s own mother that she has permission to hold her?

  “I’m really not supposed to,” she whispers hoarsely.

  “You’re what? Fuck that noise. Here…”

  I reach into the stroller, taking Sophia in my arms. She’s popping her lips, so she’ll probably be hungry soon, but we have at least five minutes until she goes ballistic.

  Watching the emotions that dash across Nina’s beautiful, movie-star features as she holds her child shatters my heart, over and over again in quick succession. She has obviously not been able to have this connection for quite a while.

  It’s a goddamn travesty, is what it is. I find myself completely enraged. Any shred of jealousy I felt has been pulverized to dust and replaced with absolute outrage.

  “Okay… I didn’t bring a bottle, so we don’t have a lot of time. I guess we’re going to have to keep it short,” I explain. “But something is really fucked up here, pardon my language. Can you tell me what happened?”

  Nina is transfixed, awestruck. She gazes into Sophia’s face, balancing her on her legs. She keeps opening her mouth in an exaggerated expression saying Ah! Clapping Sophia’s chubby little hands together, she keeps making the baby giggle.

  “This isn’t the guys’ fault,” she finally mutters, guilt in every syllable. “You can’t blame them. It just didn’t work out. It just wasn’t for me. I thought it was, but…”

  “So you weren’t run out of town? Forced to join witness protection? Threatened with incriminating photographs or something?”

  Nina glances up at me with one eyebrow quirked. A perfect, auburn eyebrow, I should add.

  “You have been watching way too many spy movies.”

  Or my best friend could be Jack Reacher’s wife, I remind myself.

  She resumes playing with Sophia as the waitress brings us a couple of espressos in tiny cups.

  “No, this was all me,” she says heavily. “As much as I adore her, I couldn’t promise everything to them, you know what I mean? I couldn’t be mother and wife… and wife, and wife, and wife, and wife. There wasn’t anything left of Nina.”

  She stares at me meaningfully, and I shift on the chair, aware my body is barely held together right now. That five-times wifely duty stuff just about tore me apart yesterday, honestly.

  “I can see what you’re saying,” I agree timidly. “But… Sophia?”

  “Well, let me tell you a story,” she begins wistfully.

  She sits up straighter, rearranging her features into a new expression, sighing charmingly. It sounds like she’s reciting a part in a play.

  “I grew up on a farm,” she explains, her voice somehow disconnected from the expression on her face. “We raised goats and pigs, chickens. Breeding animals tells you a little bit about people, if you’re paying attention. Like, chickens are terrible mothers. The chick that pops out of an egg doesn’t even make sense to the chicken. A hen has almost no idea what to do with the chick. Do you know what I’m saying?”

  I don’t even answer her. Did she just call herself a chicken?

  “But cows are different. Calves will stick by their mother as long as you let them. And pigs and goats are practically people. Some people think pigs are, but I think it’s goats. There’s a reason people use the word nanny for an old lady goat. Did you ever think about that? How you’re a nanny now?”

  Okay, and I’m a goat? I wonder. We have definitely entered choppy waters here.

  “Anyhow,” she continues with a heavy sigh, “I thought I was a nanny, but I’m a chicken. It’s a joke. You can laugh.”

  She looks up at me again, shaking h
er head slightly. I’m not sure that I believe she’s all chicken.

  “The brothers are here,” I tell her. “We’re leaving in the morning. Why don’t you come and have dinner or something?”

  “They have been more than fair to me,” she continues like she didn’t hear me. “I feel like you should know that. And I’m really happy to meet you, because I can see that Sophia is in really good hands. There’s just something about you… you’re a natural. What’s your name?”

  “Bunny,” I smile.

  She smiles back at me, and it’s dazzling, like she popped out of the pages of a magazine. Her teeth are so perfect they look like they’re made out of porcelain. Actually, I’ve heard people really do that.

  “So you haven’t been mistreated? But don’t you miss her?”

  My voice cracks at the end, and I’m not sure why. Sitting here, I don’t know who I’m supposed to sympathize with. The moment I saw her, my allegiance flew to her, but now… I don’t know? She would just give Sophia up? And mean it? Forever?

  “Who do you think she looks like?” Nina muses. “I kind of think Spencer, mostly, with a little bit of Brock. Maybe she’ll have light brown hair, that would be perfect. Right in the middle. And I hope she keeps these blue eyes. They’re gorgeous.”

  Sophia arches her back, making an irritated grunt. She kicks Nina right in the abdomen and Nina takes both her feet in one hand to protect herself. I watch the gesture closely, on alert for any inappropriate action. Even though I know that’s ridiculous, since Nina is her real mother.

  “Is she okay? Is she hungry?” Nina asks.

  “I bet she is hungry,” I answer, irritated that I know this and she doesn’t. “We should get back. The driver is waiting for us around the corner.”

  Nina picks Sophia up, looking her in the eyes one last time, then kissing her on the forehead. She hands her back to me and brushes her fingertips together as if to clean them. As if Sophia were dusty or something.

  Fumbling with the straps, I get the baby all buckled in and down the last of the coffee without looking back at this woman. I don’t understand her. She doesn’t make sense, like a comic book character with no allegiances. Like, I don’t know she’s a good guy or a bad guy.

  “Think about dinner,” I suggest again, hopefully. “Tonight? Seven o’clock? I mean, if everyone is on good terms, maybe this could be something new for us. Maybe we could all be… you know…” My voice trails off. She shakes her head and shrugs.

  “I really can’t,” she sighs. “I’m a chicken.”

  Chapter 15

  Spencer

  It is with great pleasure that I finally finish the edits on the employment contract. It’s a complicated thing, coming in at around two hundred pages. After Nina, it was obvious that the original contract wasn’t exactly watertight. Royce made no bones about pointing some of those vagaries out to me.

  But, technically, I wasn’t wrong. I just didn’t expect her to… you know. Run off.

  This new contract has lots of new safeguards in it, for both of us. Some of this I did not run past Sully or Royce. They’re just going to have to live with it, if we ever need to access the provisions for Bunny’s postnatal depression. I’m not sure how I would even outline that with Sully, so I simply had to come up with something on my own.

  Though she would never admit it, I wonder how much of Nina’s flaming exit had to do with depression. It was so sudden. It almost didn’t seem real.

  As the last pages are coming out of the printer, I hear the car in the drive. My chest gets tight again, knowing that they’re home. I wonder if this is going to be the new normal for me: excitement whenever I know they’re near. My girls.

  Oh, wow. That is a wonderful feeling.

  Sophia must be hungry, because I can hear her fussing in the kitchen. I gather the papers and cross the house, eager to join them. When I enter the room, Bunny smiles at me and picks up the bottle.

  “Did you want to feed her?” she asks, holding the bottle as it drips water from the automatic warming unit. “She’s ready now, if you like.”

  “Actually, I would love to feed her. And you can have all of this.”

  I hold out the papers, trying to conceal my pride. I did, after all, just make this for her. And she seems to understand, her eyes going wide.

  “Oh! Are those my new papers? The whole kit and caboodle?”

  “Hopefully, more caboodle than you ever dreamed of,” I quip.

  She raises her eyebrows. “Wow, Spencer. I’m not sure I ever heard you made a lawyer joke before! I like it!”

  Sophia kicks her heels out, smacking her lips and fussing as Bunny arranges her on my lap. She gazes up at me expectantly until I draw the rubber nipple across her lips. Then she latches on instantly, gobbling it down like a pro.

  “We can start baby food any time,” Bunny murmurs. She strokes Sophia’s cheek fondly then sits down.

  “Already? She’s not that grown-up yet.”

  Shrugging, Bunny draws her finger across the top of the stack of papers.

  “The book says we can. I’ve been researching. I have a lot to learn. For instance… did you know that she knows her name now? Try it. Just say it to her.”

  She’s looking up at the ceiling, at the whirling fan as she sucks her bottle and I do try it.

  “Sophia,” I whisper to her.

  Immediately she turns to me, blinking and alert. My heart leaps.

  “Is that for real? She did that because she knows her name?”

  Bunny grins triumphantly. “Yes! I only tested it like four thousand times!”

  “That is so cool, Sophia. Sophia. Sophia, you’re a baby genius!”

  We sit in silence for a few moments. The only sound is Sophia’s satisfied suckling, and the breath that comes out of her nose. I know in a few minutes, she’s going to be happy and sleepy, going down for her morning nap. I love it that I know this.

  “You’re such a good daddy,” Bunny sighs. “All of you, I mean. You’re all wonderful with her.”

  “You’re wonderful with her too,” I smile, catching her eye.

  She’s beautiful, relaxing in a pale green chemise with bright pink Chucks on her feet. Kind of an interesting sense of style.

  “Can you tell me what’s in the papers?”

  “Oh, yes,” I begin again, automatically sitting up straight in my chair and assuming my formal lawyer position. “It is essentially the same document as before, with some substantial additions regarding relations—”

  “Wait,” she interrupts, her expression dark.

  “But I thought we were all on the same page.”

  Shifting uncomfortably, she takes a deep breath. “Actually, can you tell me about Nina first? So I know?”

  I don’t want to say anything. I feel like I’m suddenly confronted with the door that I hate opening. I don’t want to look at what is behind that door.

  “Perhaps another time? Perhaps you could ask Royce?”

  “No. I’m asking you. I know you’ll tell me everything you can, Spencer.”

  Sophia finishes her bottle and slumps, instantly dropping off to sleep. She doesn’t just fade into sleep, she plunges into it, as though off a cliff.

  Bunny slides from her chair and reaches for the baby, gathering her up and putting her back in her stroller, which doubles as a bassinet.

  “Um. Well. We found Nina in Chicago. She was there acting on a soap opera. A lot of celebrities come to the hotel, as you know,” I begin. “After Brock and Trey had a few… unsavory relationships… Royce got the idea that our dynasty was at risk. He could just see Brock or Trey with a few out-of-wedlock children, creating hard feelings everywhere they went. Which I don’t mean to be judgmental about in any way. You know what I mean?”

  “I understand what you mean,” Bunny assures me, nodding sagely. “People be cray.”

  “Cray. Exactly. So Royce floated the idea of us finding someone who could satisfy all of us, to protect all of us and more importantly, to pro
tect our child. Or our children. It seemed like a great idea. Well… it seemed like a tolerable idea.”

  “Tolerable. Yes.”

  I cringe slightly. “I don’t mean that as an insult. Not that you personally are being tolerated… I mean, ideally we want to adore you. We do adore you, Bunny. Actually… There’s something about you that makes you—”

  “Can we just talk about Nina? And then maybe get back to how fabulous I am?”

  “Certainly. Ahem. So, where was I… right. Nina caught our eye. Royce was completely up front with her. She was perfectly amenable. Enthusiastic, even. And she was particularly intrigued by our lifestyle, by the celebrity that it brought her, by the travel.

  “So we began with the idea that there might be an heir, at some point, but she was pregnant within a very short period of time. She lost her job with the soap opera and often complained that pregnancy interfered with her ability to find a replacement. That was the real issue, I think. She enjoyed our company, and she enjoyed our lifestyle, but she did not appreciate that it would… take over.”

  “So she lost her dream,” Bunny adds.

  “I suppose that’s basically it. It became a battle between her acting career and the family that we thought we had already agreed to.”

  “I guess if that’s her priority… she was probably very sad.”

  I shrug. I want to dredge up a respectable amount of sympathy for her, but I still feel betrayed. It’s hard for me to say it out loud, but I still feel like she abandoned us before she tried.

  Bunny reads my features and reaches out to touch my hand. She slips her warm, nimble fingers between mine and squeezes. A feeling of relief rushes through me.

  “Well, in our disappointment, we were probably too insistent. I mean, it was all settled in our minds. And she dropped us… and Sophia… a week after Sophia was born. A week. Without even saying anything, lawyers appeared. Lawyers. Good ones.”

  “Plus, she broke your hearts,” Bunny whispers.

  Bowing my head, I just look at our intertwined hands. She did break our hearts, but somehow that feeling seems more remote today. Like it’s receding in the rearview mirror, finally.