Billionaire Daddy & Nanny

by Mia Ford

  “Yeah, yeah,” Alexa said. “And pigs can fly, what else don’t I know?”

  I slumped down into a kitchen chair and crossed my arms over my chest. It wasn’t fair. I felt like a normal girl, but it was almost like there was something wrong with me. I obviously wasn’t normal. I’d never been kissed, much less had an actual date with a guy. But I still had needs. I still had crazy fantasies and dreams that made me wake up blushing.

  Why wasn’t anyone able to see through me and realize how badly I wanted a boyfriend?

  Just as I was about to ask Alexa what Steve looked like, the doorbell rang. Alexa’s head snapped up and she grinned. Turning to me, she pinched her cheeks and hurriedly tidied her hair in a knot.

  “Expecting someone?” I raised an eyebrow. “Like, maybe Jared?”

  Alexa licked her lips and shook her head. “Definitely not,” she said. “At least, I don’t think he’d try showing up without calling.” She rolled her eyes. “He knows that’s a bad idea.”

  I bit my lip. I couldn’t think of who would be at the door – especially without calling. It wasn’t like I had a ton of friends.

  I knew it must be someone for Alexa.

  “Can you get it?” Alexa asked. “I have to run to the bathroom.” Without waiting for my reply, Alexa darted off, grabbing her cosmetics case from the kitchen island before disappearing down the hall.

  With a sigh, I plodded towards the door and yanked it open. “Belle?”

  The sound of my mom’s weak voice was enough to break my heart. I gasped when I saw her standing there. She was shivering against the cold, and wearing a black jacket that I didn’t recognize. When I looked over her face, I felt my heart plummet. Her eyes were rimmed with red and her cheeks were bloodless, pale. Her normally full mouth looked thin and saggy, like she’d aged ten years overnight.

  I knew she wouldn’t just show up for no reason at all. There had to be something wrong – something really, really wrong.

  “Mom?” I said tentatively. “What are you doing here?”

  Mom was shivering uncontrollably. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body and hugged herself.

  “Come in,” I said quickly, wrapping an arm around her thin shoulders and pulling her inside the apartment. “How long have you been outside?”

  Mom looked at me with mournful eyes.

  “Mitchell’s dead,” Mom whispered. “He was in a car accident.”

  And with that, she collapsed against me.

  “Alexa!” I screamed loudly. “I need your help!”

  Fifteen minutes later, Mom, Alexa, and I were sitting together in the kitchen. The pasta had long been forgotten and I’d made tea for all three of us. Mom was clutching her mug with both hands, like it was some kind of magical, life-saving device.

  “I can’t believe it,” Mom said hoarsely. “One minute, we were talking about plans for dinner.” She blinked and a tear rolled down her cheek. I was close to crying myself. My chest ached and my heart was pounding, but somehow, the tears wouldn’t come. It was like I couldn’t be sad about Mitchell when I had Mom to take care of. She was, and always would be, my first priority.

  “I’m so sorry,” Alexa said. She leaned in close and put an arm around my mother. “I wish there was something I could do, Mrs. Rhodes.”

  My mom shook her head sadly. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. When I looked at her, I realized that she looked like a scared little girl. “Belle, what do I do? What happens now? Who’s going to take care of us?”

  “We will, Mom,” I said softly. I reached across the table and took her hand in mine. As I squeezed Mom’s fingers, her hand felt limp and cold in my grip. “Mom, everything will be okay. I promise – we’ve always survived, and that’s not going to change now.”

  Mom stared at me like she wasn’t even hearing my words.

  “Belle, I’d like you to come home for a few days,” Mom said in a strangled voice. “Just until everything’s taken care of. You can do that for me honey, can’t you?”

  I nodded, thinking of my finals and how much harder I was going to have to work now that I would be missing the last of my classes.

  “Of course I can come home,” I said. I squeezed Mom’s hand again. “I can stay for however long you need.”

  Mom nodded. “That would be great, sweetie.” She nodded slowly, like I was still talking. Just looking at her was enough to punch me in the gut – she looked like a shell of her former self, a husk of the confident woman I’d always known.

  I could tell she was still in shock.

  “Come on, Mom,” I said gently, pulling her away from the table and leading her over to the living room. “Why don’t you lie down for a little while? We can make some plans when you wake up.”

  Mom nodded. “That’s a good idea, Belle,” she said dreamily. “You’ve always been the best daughter.”

  As I watched my mom drift off into an uneasy sleep, I felt conflicted. Angry. Scared. I knew that everything was about to change.

  If only I’d known how much things would change, maybe I could have done a better job preparing myself for what was going to come next.

  But there was no way of knowing, and now I was coasting off into the void like a missile off course.

  The next couple of days were a blur. Between emailing my professors and packing a big bag, I barely had time to eat. Mom had gone home the morning after driving up to Alfred to give me the news, and even though I’d tried distracting myself, nothing had worked. I couldn’t even focus on studying – I was too worried about Mom, and what would happen to her now that Mitchell was gone.

  Even though I’d lived with Mitchell and Mom as a teenager, I never really got to know my stepfather all that well. He was nice enough – Mom really loved him – but he never made too much of an interest in my life. I could count the number of dinners we’d had as a family on one hand…most of the time, Mom was too obsessed with spending as much time with her husband as possible.

  It probably sounds like I was a little neglected. Some people would likely say that, but I’m not sure I could agree with them. After all, I didn’t mind. I’ve always been an introvert, and the idea of spending family dinners with a man I barely knew always made me want to break out into hives. So, while Mom and Mitchell flirted over fancy wine and Italian cuisine, I normally read books in my room and snuck down to the kitchen for late-night snacks after everyone else was in bed. I’d always thought of it as doing Mom a favor, like giving her the time with her husband that she seemed to need so desperately.

  I never imagined that I’d have to be the one who supported my mother through something like this. Mitchell had been so full of life, so energetic. The fact that he was dead didn’t even resonate with me.

  Friday morning, Alexa drove me to the train station. We hugged for a long time before I left.

  “Are you gonna be okay?” Alexa squinted at me against the early morning sun. “I know you haven’t been doing so well lately.”

  I sighed. “I don’t know,” I said. “I just have to go be there for Mom.” And I have to manage not to break down at the sight of Jackson, I added silently in my head.

  As much as I wanted to tell Alexa all about how nervous I was at the thought of seeing Jackson, I knew I couldn’t let her in on my little secret. After all, I didn’t think she’d exactly understand. Alexa could have men eating out of the palm of her hand in a matter of minutes. I knew that she wouldn’t believe me when I told her what a jackass he really was…she’d probably lie, and say something like “Oh, I’m sure you just haven’t gotten to know him yet.”

  “Okay, well, I’ve got to run,” I said, smiling tightly. “I’ll see you next week.”

  Alexa nodded. “I’ll miss you, bestie,” she said. She air-kissed my cheeks and then I climbed out of her car into the blistering cold.

  Alfred, New York was beautiful in the summer months but the winters were cold, snowy, and dreadful. I hated the cold. In another life, I was probably a beach bum – tan and
bronzed and worshipping the sun all day long. But in this life, I’m a pale little mouse, I thought as I glanced down at my phone to check the time. And that’s not going to change any time soon.

  The train from Alfred to New York City took almost three hours. I couldn’t relax the whole time – I kept thinking about Mom, and how much she must be hurting. I wished that I’d stayed with her the whole time, that I hadn’t let her leave. She must be so alone, and so sad, I thought nervously as I rubbed my hands together for warmth. I need to work hard on being a better daughter to her.

  When I got into Grand Central Terminal, I grabbed my bags and walked quickly towards the entrance. Mom had said she’d be waiting for me, but after a few minutes went by and I didn’t see her, I pulled out my phone.

  Mom didn’t answer until the fourth ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Mom, it’s me,” I said. “Um, I just got into the city. Are you here? Are you coming to pick me up?”

  “Oh, Belle, it’s so good to hear your voice,” Mom said. She sniffled. “I sent a car, well, actually, Jackson heard you were coming and sent a car for you. I told him that was okay – are you going to be meeting up with us at the church?”

  I frowned. I hadn’t spoken to Jackson in years – why the hell was he reaching out now?

  “Are you sure?” I wrinkled my nose. “That doesn’t sound like something Jackson would do, Mom.”

  “Belle, be easy on him,” Mom warned. “He’s just lost his father. Don’t you remember what that feels like?”

  A weird mix of guilt and embarrassment seeped into my chest. She was right – I should understand exactly how Jackson was feeling. My own dad had died when I was a little kid, but I didn’t really remember him. Mostly what I remembered before Mom married Mitchell was how it felt for the two of us to be out there on our own. I remembered the little nights in our cramped kitchen, the way Mom would make macaroni and cheese for dinner. We’d spent the whole evening camped out in front of the television, watching all of our old favorites.

  “I know,” I said. I sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just kind of a surprise, that’s all.”

  Mom made a funny little noise with her mouth. “Well, maybe now the two of you will finally be close,” she said after a pause. “You’re both older now. Maybe that’s finally going to happen.”

  Fat chance, I thought, thinking of Jackson’s sneer after he’d tricked me into embarrassing myself at Mitchell’s party, years before. But to Mom, I said: “I’m sure. Okay, Mom. See you soon.”

  After we hung up, I dragged my suitcase out of the terminal and onto the street. It was bitterly cold. I hadn’t expected much of a change from Alfred, but this was astonishingly brutal. Wind whipped across my face, stinging my eyes and making them tear up. My lips were so chapped they ached, and my fingers gripped numbly at the handles of my suitcase.

  When I looked up, I saw a black Town Car parked right in front of me. There was a man standing in front, holding a sign that read: “Belle Harrington.”

  I rolled my eyes. Of course, Jackson would do something like this – it was ostentatious, loud, and completely unnecessary…. just like him.

  “Miss Harrington?” The driver stepped forward when he saw me glance over the car. “Is that you?”

  I nodded. As he tried to grab my suitcase from my hands, I held tightly onto it.

  “Miss, let me take your bag,” the man said. “Please.”

  I glared at him. “I can manage on my own,” I sniffed. “I didn’t hire you, after all.”

  The man’s expression soured, then darkened. “I see,” he said stiffly. “Very well.”

  As I dragged my suitcase towards the backseat of the car, I felt a hot anger wash over me. I hated Jackson, for making a scene like this! It was like he’d known everything about his plan was going to make me supremely uncomfortable…and yet, he’d done it anyway.

  Climbing into the back of the warm car was a relief. My boots were caked with snow and ice and my toes were still numb, but at least the exposed parts of me were beginning to warm up. The heat was blasting full-force from hidden vents all around the back of the car, and I shivered inside of my down jacket.

  The driver didn’t speak to me again. He guided the car expertly through New York City traffic. As we drove past Central Park, I couldn’t help but look out over the wintery expanse and sigh. Just when I thought I was done with the city, there was always something magical that pulled me in when I least expected it.

  I’d expected the car to take me somewhere, anywhere, to change. Instead, the driver parked in front of St. Paul’s Chapel. I gasped as I realized that Mitchell’s funeral was inside. The chapel was grander than any church I’d ever seen before, and I felt awkward as I lugged my suitcase away from the sleek car and through the front doors.

  Mom was waiting for me, in a severe black dress that made her look twenty years older. Her eyes were still rimmed with red, but she looked a hell of a lot more composed than she had when I’d last seen her. She pulled me into an awkward hug. I didn’t want to release the grip on my suitcase, but Mom didn’t seem to notice I was carrying luggage and for a moment, we stood there uncomfortably with our arms wrapped around each other.

  “Belle, I’m so glad you’re here,” Mom whispered into my neck. She was wearing so much perfume that it almost choked me. “I didn’t know…I didn’t know what to do without you.”

  The sound of her voice stung me. “I’m sorry, Mom,” I told her. We pulled away but Mom kept a firm grip on my hands, clutching and squeezing my fingers painfully hard. “I know this is really hard for you.”

  Mom nodded. “It is,” she said softly. “But I know you’ll help me through it, Belle.”

  I swallowed nervously. “Am I late?”

  Mom shook her head. She glanced around – there were tons of people, all clad in black, shuffling from one end of the vestibule to the other.

  “Mitchell was so loved,” Mom said. A tear dripped down her cheek and she wiped it hastily away. “He was just such a wonderful man.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again, feeling lame. As the sound of music began to play, Mom linked her arm with mine and we walked down the aisle of the church together. People were staring – for a moment, I thought it was because I was still carrying a suitcase – but Mom kept her head up and her chin lifted as she walked resolutely towards the front pews.

  And that’s when I saw him.

  Jackson Rhodes, my stepbrother.

  He was seated at the front of the chapel, in a dark Calvin Klein suit. His blonde hair was a little longer than I remembered – he’d pushed it back from his forehead in a glossy pompadour – but his grey eyes were just as chilly. When he saw Mom, he smirked.

  “Hello, Anne,” Jackson said in a slow drawl. “So pleased you could make it.”

  Mom’s cheeks pinked but she didn’t say anything. Just as I was about to snarl something back at Jackson, Mom grabbed my elbow.

  “Belle, behave yourself,” Mom hissed into my ear. “This is a place of God!”

  Jackson kept his eyes glued to my body. “Hey, Sis,” he said smugly. “How’re you?”

  I fought the urge to smack his smug, gorgeous face. “I’m fine,” I said curtly. “I’m sorry about your father, Jackson.”

  For a moment, the icy look in Jackson’s eyes wavered. But seconds later, his cruel smirk was back on his face.

  I wondered if he ever smiled.

  Just as Jackson opened his mouth, the priest stepped up to the pulpit. I glared at Jackson and smirked, as if to say: “I see you can’t exactly sass me back now!”

  Jackson glared right back.

  Mom squeezed my hand and tugged me down into the pew. As the priest began to speak of Mitchell’s life, Mom began to sob. I knew at that moment that I had to forget about Jackson – I was there for Mom, and she was my priority.

  --

  After the funeral, Mom and I took a cab to the reception. It was being held at a restaurant a few blocks away. I didn’t think I
was hungry, but at the mention of food, my stomach started cramping and twisting. By the time the cab pulled up, I was starving.

  A group of Mitchell’s female friends spotted Mom and pulled her into a tight hug. Before I could say anything, they’d tugged her away to the side of the room and encircled her with sympathy. I stood there, feeling awkward. He was only my stepfather, I wanted to say each time that someone wished me sympathy. And I barely knew him.

  A black car pulled up in front of the restaurant and Jackson climbed out of the backseat. He wasn’t smirking anymore – his eyes were narrowed into tiny slits and his mouth was set in a thin line. I watched him brush past the crowds of women and disappear inside.

  This is my chance, I thought. I hated the idea of apologizing to him, but I knew it was what Mom would want. And I had to admit, I felt terrible for Jackson. His father had just died – I knew it must be a horrible feeling.

  “Jackson,” I called loudly, following him down a narrow hall. “Jackson, I wanna talk to you for a minute.”