New York Nights (A Heart of the City romance Book 2)

by C. J. Duggan

  I felt the shift in him, heard it in his sigh. ‘Oh, joy,’ he said. That’s when I did look at him because now we had something in common: the dreaded visit of his mother.

  ‘Well, I’ll be at work so …’ He shrugged one shoulder casually, and in a flash my moment of mutual bonding had changed to hating him because, unlike me, he had a means of escape, and I was so envious.

  ‘Don’t let her get to you,’ he continued.

  I stilled my scrubbing, and narrowed my eyes.

  ‘This isn’t her house,’ he said, and with that he slipped on his dinner jacket and exited the room.

  He’d probably intended his words to make me feel more at ease, but they had no such effect.

  As romantic as it was to be sleeping on the fifth floor with access to the roof terrace, I felt strangely separated from the rest of the house. And although that was probably intentional, it didn’t exactly help. Baby monitor or not, I was terrified that I might sleep through Grace’s cries. But the fear soon slipped away when a bone-deep exhaustion settled over me.

  It felt like I’d barely shut my eyes before I flinched awake from a dream. A dream that had me thinking I had slept through the entire night, only to run down the staircase to Grace’s room to be met with Penny Worthington holding Grace, looking at me with a hateful, disapproving stare as she shook her head. It was a terrifying dream, but no more than the realisation, having glanced at the time, that only three hours had passed. But they had passed with not so much as a peep from Grace. This was unusual.

  I dived out of bed, taking to the narrow stairs, my heart racing, wondering if nightmares did come true and I would find Penny Worthington in Grace’s room. So when I opened the door and found Ben, I felt only momentary relief. He was sitting in the chair by the window, nursing Grace and reading her a bedtime story. I hadn’t heard her cries. I had slept through them. I was so fired.

  I stepped into the room, wringing my hands together. ‘Ben, I’m so sorry I didn’t—’

  He held his hand up, continuing the story he was reading by lamplight. I stood there feeling awkward, listening to the story unfold, afraid to move. I wasn’t sure what I should do. A sleeping Grace lay limp in the crook of his arm. Ben read on as if I wasn’t there at all. Had I not been mortified about my slip-up, I might have taken the chance to appreciate that Ben was holding his little daughter. It was a truly beautiful sight, something I hadn’t seen all week. I desperately wanted to creep away, wait on the landing for him to come out and dress me down for not being on my game. Maybe I had oversold my ability. I had thought I could conquer anything, having looked after the Liebenbergs’ boys, but being on my own with all this, far away from home, it was almost like I was set up to fail – exactly as the Worthingtons had expected. Maybe Penny’s visit was bang on with timing: day four meltdown mode and she was going to be here to catch the show.

  Ben closed the book, placing it to the side as he gingerly edged himself out of the chair, his concentration fierce as he moved carefully. I stepped forward, instinctively wanting to help, but thought better of it. He was managing just fine, and Grace was certainly in a sound sleep. Ben walked over to the cot, placing her slowly down, supporting her head in the most loving way.

  It was only when she was settled on the mattress that he glanced at me, silently asking for help. I walked over, grabbed the blanket and tucked Grace in securely. I was glad the light was dim, and he couldn’t see how red in the face I was, how embarrassed I was that he’d had to come and do my job because I had slept through her cry. That I wasn’t there when she had needed me. What if Ben hadn’t been home? I shuddered to think.

  Ben gestured with his head toward the hall. I squared my shoulders, psyching myself up for the onslaught that was to come, the verbal lashing I deserved. He didn’t have to tell me, I knew I had let him down. Hell, I had even let the Liebenbergs down. Seemed like their glowing reference and belief in my ability was seriously misplaced.

  I began, wanting to be heard first. ‘Mr Worthington I am so, so sor—’

  ‘Mr Worthington?’ he repeated, his face screwed up as if the sound of it left a bitter taste on his tongue.

  I stammered, thinking that it was a better to show respect at a time like this. Clearly not.

  ‘Ben,’ I corrected, and he seemed somewhat more at ease. ‘I can’t even tell you how sorry and embarrassed I am …’

  Ben crossed his arms, forehead furrowing as he stared at me, listening to every word that tumbled from my mouth. I hated the way I sounded, I hated how I had put myself into this position, that with each stammer I was only proving how incapable I was.

  Seriously, Sarah. Just stop talking already!

  As if he was reading my mind, he cut me off again.

  ‘Sarah.’ He said my name as if pained, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Do you always talk this much?’

  I closed my gaping mouth, instinctively wanting to respond but knowing that by talking I would be proving his point.

  Ben looked at me as if he was bored, or maybe he just wasn’t a confrontational person by nature, and wasn’t keen on having to fire me in the middle on the night. Surely this wouldn’t be a problem for him, so why now was he choosing to be so coy about it?

  ‘You didn’t hear Grace because I turned the baby monitor off.’

  ‘Why would you do that?’ I asked, a little annoyed. Was he deliberately trying to give me a heart attack?

  ‘Well, I figured you wouldn’t want to be subjected to a chapter and a half of Charlotte’s Web, even though I must say it’s getting really good. Charlotte has promised Wilbur that she will help him, but he’s not going to know how until morning, so, yeah, cliffhanger.’

  I stared at him. Was he for real? Maybe he was taking the piss or deliriously tired. Maybe I was too.

  ‘You know that book has a pretty sad ending, right?’

  ‘Uh, spoiler alert.’

  ‘Hey, look, sorry, but just be warned, there will tears, and most probably not Grace’s.’

  ‘Geez, now I want to skip through and read the ending,’ he said thoughtfully.

  ‘No, you can’t do that, you have to allow yourself to get emotionally invested in the story and the characters, otherwise it will be just meaningless and hollow.’

  Oh my God, were we really talking about Charlotte’s Web?

  ‘Anyway, you shouldn’t have done that, it’s a work night and you probably have to get up early in the morning. It’s my job to get up to her.’

  ‘You looked like you needed a rest after a few days of single parenting, so I thought I’d let you sleep. I know how that feels – sleep deprivation is a whole new form of torture.’

  My interest piqued. Was there no Mrs Ben Worthington? Maybe there was, and he had full custody, or she was off on a girls’ bonding getaway, or couldn’t handle Penny Worthington’s visits.

  ‘It must have been quite the juggling act with work,’ I said, in a way that wasn’t exactly a question.

  Ben leant against the wall, but he didn’t seem defensive, merely contemplative. ‘Nikki’s been a great help, but she has her own crazy red-headed brood to deal with.’

  I smiled broadly. ‘Red hair?’

  Ben smiled. ‘Fire red. Her husband’s Irish, a wild woolly ginger. Imagine my mother’s horror that a man with no money and no social status had infiltrated the Worthington bloodline.’

  ‘This sounds like a plotline from a Jane Austen novel.’

  Ben laughed, moving away from the door out of fear of waking Grace, but that wasn’t my fear: my fear was that he would stop, that he would shut down one of the most unexpected and endearing traits I had seen in him. When he laughed, his whole face lit up and his hardened edges softened. That someone could look so different had me transfixed. I wanted to make him laugh again.

  ‘It’s a sweeping saga, all right,’ he said, plunging his hands into his pockets and moving toward the stairs. My heart sank a little, thinking he was heading back to bed, although since he was fully dre
ssed, it appeared he hadn’t even made it that far.

  ‘Have you been home long?’ I inwardly kicked myself. That’s none of your bloody business! No questions.

  If Ben seemed annoyed by the question he didn’t show it. ‘Only an hour. I just crept in here to check on Grace, and there she was, looking at me with those big eyes of hers.’ He was staring into the distance as though he were in another place, and he smiled just like the first time I’d seen him walk into Grace’s nursery on Lafayette. It had given me hope that this ivory-towered monster of Manhattan had a glimmer of softness. Despite being able to do little more than read her a bedtime story, he loved her deeply, that was evident. I saw it in his eyes, which matched Grace’s. I saw it in the way he carried her as if she was made of the most delicate china.

  It was something to behold, and I was saddened when he blinked and shuttered the emotion, snapping back into the Ben Worthington I had come to know.

  ‘I’ve turned the monitor back on, so if Grace wakes for a feed or —’

  ‘I’ve got it, thanks,’ I said.

  Ben turned down the stairs and I stepped forward and grabbed the banister.

  ‘So does this mean I’m not fired?’

  Ben looked at me with a curious mixture of confusion and amusement in his eyes, one that made me feel foolish for asking.

  A ghost of a smile passed over his mouth, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come, and he plastered that serious expression onto his face. ‘Only if you spoil the ending to Charlotte’s Web,’ he said and continued down the stairs, leaving me smiling and wondering if I had seriously just dreamt the entire exchange.

  Chapter Ten

  It was a beautiful sunny day and I had longed to take Grace for a walk in her pram. I had wanted to go to Bleeker Street and pick up some cupcakes from the Magnolia Bakery for afternoon tea in the park, then maybe sit out on the roof terrace with Grace in her bouncer while I read to her. But I couldn’t do any of that, not with Penny Worthington about to arrive. I had to focus on making sure everything was perfectly in place. The fridge and cupboards were stocked with nutritional food; I had fresh fruit in the bowl, and fresh flowers on the table. There was bottled water and freshly ground coffee. Mercifully the cleaner had been the day before, so if Penny wanted to run a white glove over a mantle she was welcome to do so.

  There was only one way to get things done in a five-storey house with a baby: strap them to you. As if continually climbing the stairs wasn’t hard enough, transporting Grace around in a BabyBjorn carrier was giving me a serious cardio workout. Luckily, Grace seemed to love the motion, and why wouldn’t she? I would have given anything to be carried around for the day, especially after surviving on less than four hours of sleep.

  ‘Okay, Grace, if you’re not going to sleep tonight, that’s fine, but I really, really need you to be happy today, like seriously happy, when Grandma gets here.’

  Grace stared up at me as I folded the laundry, screwing up her face as if over being strapped to my chest. She grizzled a little and rubbed at her face.

  I sighed. ‘Just one day, please.’

  But before I could panic about Grace’s trembling chin and reddening face, the doorbell rang. On cue, Grace let the floodgates open, wailing at the top of her impressive lungs. This could not be happening.

  Leaving the pile of folded washing on the bench, I endeavoured to soothe Grace, swaying from side to side while trying to free her from my body.

  ‘Here we go, Gracie, you’re free, is that better? Don’t cry, we have company.’

  And as if to press the point the doorbell sounded again.

  Jesus. Impatient, much? Unlike Penny Worthington, I didn’t have a doorman or maid service, there was just me. No wonder she was expecting me to fail. She was probably already rolling her eyes at her driver.

  ‘Just a sec,’ I yelled, which was probably incredibly uncouth of me, but by the third doorbell ring I didn’t care – by now Penny would be able to hear Grace’s screams, so what did it matter? Before she even set foot in the house she was judging me, and I was doomed. I adjusted Grace against my shoulder and opened the door, only to find not Penny Worthington, but a man – a much younger man, though unmistakably a Worthington. Possibly with even more striking and clearer blue eyes than his siblings, but maybe that was the sunlight? His hair was brown, with a little length to it, and even though he was a step down from me I could tell he wasn’t that tall, probably my height – five-four. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit but without the formality of a tie.

  His surprise mirrored my own as I snapped my mouth closed, looking past him to see a car waiting for him: definitely a Worthington.

  ‘Well, this neighborhood just gets better and better looking,’ he quipped.

  ‘Sorry, can I help you?’

  ‘Oh, sorry, I’m Alistair,’ he said, holding his hand out.

  I shook it the customary three times. He had said his name with some kind of expectation that a light bulb would go off. It didn’t; I was still very much in the dark.

  He laughed. ‘You have no idea who I am.’

  ‘Sorry, I don’t.’

  ‘That’s okay, my ego is only slightly damaged. I’m Alistair Worthington. I’m Ben’s baby brother.’

  Okay, so that I did not guess. ‘Oh, right, sorry, I’m not fully up to speed on who’s who in the zoo, so to speak.’

  Alistair looked at me as if trying to solve a puzzle. ‘You’re Australian?’

  Grace’s cries had become louder, and I was amazed he could even pick it out. ‘Guilty,’ I said, rocking Grace as a means to soothe her.

  Alistair’s eyes shifted to her and he smiled. ‘This must be Grace. I’ve never met my niece before, I’ve been away.’

  ‘Oh, really? I’m sorry, she’s just tired. Do you want to come in, Ben’s not in but —’

  ‘Oh no.’ He held up his hand. ‘That’s okay, I just thought I’d take a chance and call in. I was surprised that the door opened. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name …’

  ‘Oh, Sarah, I’m Grace’s au pair.’

  When Alistair smiled there was no mistaking his being Ben’s brother, he was just a younger, shorter, clean-shaven version. And he didn’t look like he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  ‘Well, things have certainly changed. I never had an au pair who looked like you when I was a boy,’ he teased.

  I didn’t know quite how to respond to that. Luckily Grace was squirming enough in my arms to give me a distraction.

  ‘More’s the pity,’ he added. ‘Lovely to meet you, Sarah, and Miss Grace, I’m sure we will be seeing much more of each other.’ He bowed his head and readied himself to leave. ‘Oh, by the way, can you do me a small favour? Don’t tell Ben I stopped by, I want to surprise him.’

  ‘Okay, well, did you want to surprise your mother? I’m actually expecting her sometime today.’

  Alistair’s smiled broadened. ‘Oh, you poor thing.’

  I wanted to wholeheartedly agree with him, but thought better of it.

  His eyes went from me to Grace. ‘I’ll tell you what, since you’re doing me a small favour, I’ll do one in return,’ he said, reaching into his suit pocket and retrieving his phone, then dialling with a devilish look in his eyes. He placed his finger over his lips.

  ‘Frieda, is Mother there? It’s her prodigal son, Alistair.’

  I jigged Grace more intently, urging her not to cry; her face changed from thunder to smiles and I knew I was onto something as I continued to bounce and make silly silent faces, praying she would stay happy.

  ‘Hello, Mother, yes, I’m back in New York, just landed.’ He winked at me. ‘Just wondered what you were up to today – I thought I might take you out on the town?’ He listened intently, his eyes shifting to me and Grace in the doorway; even Grace seemed to be transfixed by the conversation.

  ‘Oh, you don’t say? Well, surely this Sarah won’t mind if you leave it for another day?’

  My heart dared leap from f
ear to hope.

  ‘Of course you can, slip into your best Chanel, I’m on my way … Okay, excellent, see you soon,’ he said, and ended the call.

  ‘Well, as much as I am relieved, I’m also partially offended that it didn’t take much to sway her away from us.’

  Alistair laughed. ‘Don’t be, she hasn’t seen me in months, so it’s been a while since I’ve taken her out for lunch. There was no way she would turn it down. Now you’re free for another day.’

  I sighed. ‘Thank you, I appreciate that. I haven’t even been here for a week, so we’re still finding our way, aren’t we, Gracie?’

  Grace shoved her fist into her slobbery mouth.

  ‘Well, if that’s the case, you won’t need Mother on your doorstep. I’ll make sure she’s suitably distracted until you settle in,’ he said, giving me another boyish grin.

  ‘Thanks, Alistair.’ I could hardly believe that, aside from Nikki, there was another nice Worthington in the world. I had been convinced there was no such thing.

  ‘My pleasure,’ he said. ‘Remember, you never saw me.’

  I shrugged. ‘I didn’t see a thing.’

  Alistair laughed. ‘Well, we’ll make a Worthington out of you yet.’ And with that he slid into the car and was driven away.

  Meeting Alistair Worthington was the unexpected delight of my day; well, that and the freedom of no Penny Worthington visiting. Even Grace’s mood seemed to have picked up, now that she wasn’t feeding off my vibes of impending doom. We didn’t get to Magnolia Bakery or the park, but we did manage to lounge under the umbrella on the roof terrace. Me, Grace and a bottle of formula on the daybed: things were definitely looking up. Sure, most people my age were probably binge drinking and partying and sleeping their lives away. But all was not lost: come the weekend and my days off, I wouldn’t have a baby permanently strapped to me. I would go out exploring, because, to be frank, the thought of Ben and me being in the same house all day did nothing for me; a supreme conversationalist he was not and I was harbouring a terror of the weekend dynamic. In the Liebenberg house my weekends were treated as sacred and were respected, aside from the odd one here and there when I had to work. I wasn’t entirely sure how weekends would work here. Could Ben change a nappy? Sterilise bottles and prep formula, handle the endless crying should it strike Grace not to be all smiles?