Chapter 25

Hailey

I can hear the soft rhythm of Christian’s breathing as the morning light filters through the curtains. I lie still a moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Ever since Christian and I stopped using condoms a few weeks ago, he’s been absolutely insatiable, and I’ve loved every moment of it. Our time has been more than just fun. It’s peeled back another layer of Christian, and with it, my own defenses. The laughter, our night out at his club, the way he looks out for me without smothering. It’s all creating something tender inside me.

And we really are more of a team these days, he told me about his meeting with Cordelia and Davis not too long ago. Surgery for Addison is coming sooner rather than later, and that is a huge source of stress. I’m grateful he’s keeping me in the loop, though. I’m doing everything I can to make sure she’ll be ready.

Yet even with so many connections, so many shared goals, part of me waits for it all to fall apart, reminds me that it’s temporary, something I’ve scheduled myself out of at the end. As Christian sleeps, the silence wraps around me, pressing in on all sides, reminding me of the emptiness I’ve known for far too long. The emptiness that started when my parents left me behind.

I was eleven when they took off, too young to fully understand why but old enough to feel the sting of it. One day, they were there, promising to come back after their “trip,” and the next… They just didn’t. I waited. I waited for weeks, then months, thinking every car that passed by could be them, thinking every ring of the phone might bring news that they were on their way back. But no one ever came.

My grandmother tried her best, but I could see it in her eyes. She wasn’t meant to raise a child at her age. And then, when I was nineteen, she got sick.

I watched her fade, just like my parents had, but in a different way. Then one day I received a phone call at school. She had gone peacefully in her sleep.

Abandoned. That’s what I was. First by my parents, then by my grandmother—though it wasn’t her fault. I know that now. But the scars it left haven’t fully healed. I guess that’s why I got tangled up in Franklin’s nonsense, and why I’ve held on so tightly to Addison, to Christian, to this life we’ve built, even if I’m just waiting for it to be taken away.

I slide out of bed, careful not to disturb him, and tiptoe to Addison’s room to check on her. She gurgles softly in her crib, and I reach for her to get the day going. After her morning feed—she took to the bottle eagerly today, thank goodness—I feel the itch to stretch my legs outside, to show her the world beyond these walls. Her visits to the physical and occupational therapists continue to show that she’s weaker than she should be, and she’s also fighting yet another cold, but a walk around False Creek would do us both good.

“Let’s check the weather, sweet girl.” I hoist her onto my hip as we pad over to the window. The sky is a clear blue, promising warmth and the kiss of the sun. Perfect for a walk. But then I see her—Taylor—standing by a tree along the path that skirts the inlet. The path we would walk on. Her presence is enough to stir the pot of unease, knowing how much she unsettles not only me but Christian.

I sigh, turning away from the window. No, I won’t wake Christian. He needs the rest, and I don’t want to add to his burdens.

“Looks like it’s indoors for us this morning,” I whisper, kissing Addison’s forehead. We’ll just avoid any confrontation with Taylor for now. Her big eyes blink up at me, unaware of the drama unfolding around her. She’s content, snuggled close to my heartbeat, and that’s all that matters.

We retreat to the living room, building a fortress of pillows and soft toys, while Christian sleeps.

After a bit, I notice Addison’s breaths are shallow, a sign she’s not feeling her best today. I cradle her against me, and she feels warm, too warm. Her little nose is a battlefield of sniffles.

“Shh, it’s okay,” I murmur, brushing away the wisps of hair glued to her damp forehead.

Just then Christian stumbles out from the bedroom, his eyes squinting against the light. His sleep-tousled hair and bare chest paint the picture of a man at ease in his domain. But as he stretches, revealing the line of his boxers and the evident outline beneath, my cheeks flush.

“Morning,” I tease, unable to resist. “Looks like someone else is up early too.”

His groggy smile falters, and our playful bubble bursts with the sound of Madeline, his mother, clearing her throat.

Where did she come from? I didn’t hear the door chime when it opened.

Christian hastily sidesteps out of view, his tanned skin disappearing behind the doorway.

I turn to the matriarch now occupying the room. Her arched eyebrow tells me she has seen far too much already.

“Would you like some coffee, Madeline?”

“Mrs. Bradford,” she corrects sharply. “And no, thank you. I’m concerned about Addison.” Her gaze moves over her granddaughter with the scrutiny of a general inspecting troops.

“Of course, Mrs. Bradford,” I reply, the title cumbersome on my tongue. I shift Addison’s weight, trying to soothe her without making it seem like an excuse to avoid further confrontation.

Christian re-emerges, joggers and T-shirt in place. “What’s got you here so bright and early?” he asks.

“Nearly eleven isn’t early, and I’ve been trying to reach you,” she says, her tone implying negligence on his part. “We need to discuss plans for Addison’s first birthday.”

“Right,” he nods, folding his arms across his chest. “Sorry I missed your calls.”

“Why isn’t she crawling yet?” Madeline’s question feels more like an accusation.

I glance down at Addison. “She just needs a little more time,” I murmur. But my soft reassurance is not meant for Madeline’s ears.

“You coddle her too much.” Her sharp tone cuts through the room. “She’ll miss her milestones if you keep this up.”

Christian steps in. “Mom, milestones for kids with Down syndrome can be different. She will reach them, but on her own schedule.”

“Addison can do anything,” Madeline insists.

“Absolutely. She’s fine,” Christian assures her, patting Addison’s back. “On her own time.”

Madeline’s lips press into a thin line, and then she abruptly turns her focus to me. “You can leave us now, Hailey.” It’s a dismissal, clear and cold.

I hesitate, but I know better than to argue. With a final, soothing stroke on Addison’s back, I hand her over to Christian and retreat to my room, closing the door behind me.

I don’t understand this rush to plan a small family party. Addison isn’t quite ten months now. I know Christian appeases his mother to keep the peace, but sometimes, she doesn’t understand Addison at all. I’m so grateful Christian does.

After I fold and put away the clean laundry, I get into the shower. I have the time if Madeline is going to monopolize Christian and Addison.

But I find myself fuming under the hot water. Madeline has a way of making me feel small and insignificant. I am the hired help, yes, but it stings to be reminded of my place so bluntly.

When I finally emerge, wrapped in a towel, the house is quiet.

“She’s gone. You can come out now.” Christian’s voice carries from the living room.

I dress quickly and find him downstairs, standing with Addison perched on his hip, her head resting against his shoulder. He holds out a mug, steam curling from the top in lazy wisps. “I made you some hot chocolate,” he says.

“Thank you.” I take the mug, feeling the heat seep into my palms. I can smell just a hint of cinnamon, exactly how I like it.

“I’m sorry about my mother,” he adds. “She can be…a lot.”

“Understatement of the year,” I mutter.

“Anyway, we’ve planned Addison’s party. My mom’s party planner is coming by tomorrow morning to assess the space for setup.” He shifts Addison to his other hip, and she snuffles against him.

“Isn’t it a bit early?” I ask.

“Yep, and she knows it needs to be only family and friends, but this is what she wants.” His gaze drifts off for a moment, pensive. “We’ll have to keep my parents separated, though. They’re like oil and water.”

“Does she know you’re seeing your dad?”

Christian’s jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. “I haven’t directly told her, no. I know it won’t make her happy.”

“Are you going to invite Taylor?” I ask, trying to get a gauge on things.

“I don’t know how I’d get ahold of her,” he says with a shrug, but there’s a flash of something in his eyes.

He knows, but he’s not ready. I’m not going to push it.

So maybe I’ll go for the other elephant in the room. “Your mother…”

He looks up, his brow furrowing. “She didn’t mean anything. She’s just…old-fashioned.”

“Old-fashioned?” I repeat. “She treats me like I’m nothing! Like I don’t belong here, and I don’t matter to Addison—or to you.”

He sighs, clearly uncomfortable with the confrontation. “You know that’s not true. You matter to Addison. And you matter to me.”

I shake my head, feeling frustration build into something hotter, something I’m struggling to contain.

His expression tightens, his patience wearing thin. “I’m trying to keep the peace. My mother’s difficult, and she has her opinions, but she’ll come around. She always does. You just need to give her time.”

I stare at him. How can he possibly believe that? His actions indicate the exact opposite. He placates her because she’ll never change.

“It’s complicated, Hailey. My mom… She’s just protective of Addison, and she’s old-fashioned about family. She doesn’t understand our situation.”

“‘Our situation?’” I repeat, stunned. “I’m a situation?” Anger and hurt rise in my chest. “I’m not just the nanny. I love Addison like she’s my own, and I’ve been here for you every step of the way. But your mother looks at me like I’m disposable, and you never say a thing. Sometimes, I feel like you see me that way too.”

His eyes widen in shock. “That’s not fair, Hailey. I’ve never treated you like you’re disposable. You know I care about you.” His face softens for a moment, but then he shakes his head. “I’ve got a lot going on right now. Addison’s eventual surgery, work, Taylor coming back around, my mom… I’m trying to keep everything together.”

“And what about me?” I ask.

Christian’s shoulders sag, and for the first time, I see the cracks in his armor. He looks exhausted, worn down. “I’m not trying to push you aside. I’m just… I don’t know how to deal with all of this. I’m scared, Hailey. I’m scared I’ll lose Addison. I’m scared I’ll lose you. And when my mom’s here, I don’t know how to navigate it. It’s all too much.”

I look up at him, tears stinging my eyes. “I don’t want to be on the outside anymore, just because that’s convenient for you.”

He holds out the arm that doesn’t have Addison, pulling me tightly against him. “You won’t be,” he murmurs. “I promise, I’ll do better. I don’t want to lose you, Hailey.”

Before I can speak further, his phone rings. He fishes it out of his pocket and reads the screen. “It’s the guys. They want to go golfing. Is that okay?”

I nod, because what else can I do? “Go have fun. We’ll be fine here.”

“Call if you need anything.” He presses a kiss to Addison’s forehead before setting her in her playpen, her little hands reaching up as if to keep him close.

“Will do,” I promise, but as soon as he’s gone, I begin to worry. Addison’s been too quiet today, too lethargic. “Hey, sweetie,” I coo, reaching for the thermometer. Her skin remains warm to my touch, and her nose is a red, snotty mess.

“Let’s see how you’re doing, huh?” I take a video of her with the thermometer reading and send it to Cordelia, hoping I’m just overly cautious. She texts back almost immediately.

Cordelia: Monster cold. Hang tight. Worst is over.

I let out a breath and pull Addison into my arms, whispering reassurances I hope are true. We spend the day curled up together, her tiny frame fitting perfectly against me, despite Madeline’s earlier admonitions.

“Nobody knows you like I do,” I tell her, brushing a kiss to her forehead. “You’ll hit those milestones when you’re ready, and not a second before.”

The day is done, the night is still, and the clock on the nightstand reads 11:22 p.m.

“Stop it,” I whisper to myself, a stern admonition.

Christian has never promised me anything—not a future, not even an actual relationship other people know about—yet I got myself into this. We did agree to be exclusive, and I have no reason to doubt that, so why does jealousy rear its head now? I flop over to my other side.

The sound of the back door closing rouses me from a restless slumber. My heart thumps as I feign deep breaths, eyes closed but mind acutely awake. The familiar creak of floorboards signals his approach, and then he’s here, slipping into bed beside me. A cloud of cheap perfume invades my nostrils, a scent that’s all wrong for him.

“God,” he mutters under his breath, likely assuming I’m asleep. “Why can’t you just move into my room already?” There’s a longing in his voice that tugs at something within me, but I fight the urge to respond.

His breathing eventually evens into the telltale rhythm of sleep. I lie motionless, tears tracing warm paths down my temples. What did he do all night that he couldn’t check in? Why didn’t he think of Addison or me even once?

A small sob catches in my throat, and I stifle it with a pillow pressed against my face. A harsh truth settles in my bones. I’m falling for him, and that has to be a mistake. Once again, I’ve chosen a man who doesn’t have what I need to give. Things have to change. Otherwise it relegates me to the role of convenience, always there, never chosen.