The Omega Nanny Read online

  Thomas wondered what she’d think of his having lunch with Nora.

  We’re friends, Thomas reminded himself firmly. Friends have lunch together.

  Among other things, said Felicity saucily.

  Thomas made as much noise as he could while unwrapping his burger, as if noise could actually drown out Felicity’s chiding. “Figured out what you’re going to wear to Connie’s marriage yet?”

  “Clothes,” said Nora primly, and Thomas laughed. “The weather’s supposed to be lovely, but it’s going to rain Friday morning. The ground could still be wet.”

  Thomas frowned. “What’s that to do with anything?”

  Nora raised an eyebrow. “Well, your mother did say the ceremony will be outdoors—”

  Thomas stared at her. “I… you talked to my mother?”

  Nora didn’t seem to think much of it. “I ran into her at the store. Goodness, Thomas, don’t look so shocked – I do know her, you forget I was friends with Connie for years. Besides, she already knew I was coming.”

  “Right, right, sorry.” Thomas shook his head, wondering why the idea of Nora and Darla talking was so disturbing. “I forgot the details of the ceremony.”

  Felicity giggled.

  “I’m surprised you knew them in the first place,” said Nora, amused.

  “I’m not completely oblivious.”

  Keep telling yourself that, Bear, said Felicity.

  “Debatable,” said Nora, watching him with a keen eye. Just as Thomas was popping a fry into his mouth, she changed the subject. “How’s the new nanny?”

  Thomas began to choke, and Nora quickly scooted to his side and began to pound on his back. Thomas leaned forward, grabbed one of the cups of water, and drained most of it, tears streaming from his eyes.

  “He’s fine,” said Thomas, throat still stinging a little bit. “Jessie likes him. Connie likes him. Nice kid.”

  “Mmm,” said Nora. Her hand was still on his back; he could feel the weight of it, though it didn’t feel much warmer than his own skin. She began rubbing his back with the flat of her palm – it was nice enough, almost soothing after the incident with the fry. “That’s good, it’ll be a worry off your mind, to know Jessie’s being looked after.”

  He could tell her. Open his mouth and say the words. Not just Jessie. I think I want to have a relationship with him.

  Nora was his friend. She’d listen. She’d offer advice. She’d reassure him that it was all right, that whatever he felt for Kieran didn’t negate the way he still loved Felicity.

  Thomas turned to Nora, ready to do just that.

  She smiled at him. Just a small smile.

  Felicity hovered behind her, biting her lips in the way she had, her gaze solid and unyielding. She was almost clearer in the overcast light of Nora’s office than Thomas could remember seeing her, and she looked… not disapproving, exactly, so much as worried.

  If you tell her, she won’t stand in your way, Bear, said Felicity softly. But she won’t go to the marriage on Saturday.

  And then Darla would ask why.

  And Connie would worm the answer out of him.

  And Kieran, skittish and cautious and clearly prone to flee, once confronted with a family determined to pull him in and keep him there – might never actually come back.

  “You must feel quite relieved, knowing that he’s there for Jessie,” said Nora.

  “Yes,” said Thomas, his heart sinking a little bit. “I do.”

  * * *

  The jittery feeling that Thomas had felt all afternoon was replaced by a cool calm the moment he stepped into the dark laundry room. He could hear the laughter on the other side of the door, and the thin strip of light that shone underneath it was strangely calming.

  Thomas took a breath, and went into the kitchen just as one of Jessie’s Lego towers fell over and crashed to the floor, while Kieran and Jessie both shouted in glee. Thomas stood in the doorway, shaking his head regretfully.

  “Should have waited for the inspector to look at it before moving in,” he told them, and Jessie giggled so hard, she couldn’t move

  Kieran grinned cockily at him for a moment – and then lowered his eyes, as if something or someone had chastised him. The sudden bout of shyness hardened Thomas’s resolve.

  “There,” announced Connie from the kitchen. “That’s set – dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  Jessie sprang to her feet. “Now can we watch it?” she demanded.

  “It’s some video online,” said Connie at Thomas’s confused look. “Yes, sweetie, come on, I’ll pull it up on my computer.”

  “Yay!” cheered Jessie, and scrambled over Kieran in her rush to follow Connie out of the room.

  Kieran didn’t look up. Instead, he bent over the fallen Legos and began to gather them back together. Thomas watched for a moment before realizing that Kieran had no intention of looking up at all.

  “Kieran.”

  “Have to get these picked up before she comes back,” said Kieran quickly. “Or she’ll step on one and howl for ten minutes about her foot falling off.”

  “Kieran.”

  “I mean, I know it’s a life lesson and all that, but it’s not one I want to make right before dinner, you know?”

  Thomas knelt down so that he was eye-level with Kieran. “Kieran.”

  Kieran stopped what he was doing and looked up at Thomas, holding his breath.

  Thomas forgot what he was going to say. Kieran’s eyes were green and wet, but he wasn’t avoiding Thomas’s gaze anymore.

  Thomas wanted to reach out, pull him in, and kiss him, and just feeling that urge reminded him of what he wanted to make clear.

  “You keep running from me.”

  “I know,” said Kieran, softly.

  “You need to—” Thomas heard Kieran’s sharp intake of breath, and stopped himself for a moment before trying again. “Kieran. I’d… I’d like it if you stopped running from me. Please.”

  Kieran’s lips parted, but before he could answer, Connie and Jessie returned.

  “Fa, you build the bottom half,” said Jessie, skidding on her knees to join them. “And Kieran and I will build the top half.”

  “Good plan,” said Connie. “Then only half of it will fall over in the next earthquake.”

  “All right,” said Kieran, looking directly at Thomas.

  Thomas let out the breath he’d been holding, and began constructing the foundation of Jessie’s new building.

  * * *

  When Thomas came downstairs after Jessie was asleep, his heart was pounding. He could see Kieran in the kitchen, and every word of the speech that Thomas had spent the last hour composing flew straight out of his head.

  “No flowers,” said Connie, and Thomas’s heart sank.

  She was still in the kitchen.

  “You have to have something,” argued Kieran. “Flowers make it festive.”

  “But they’re expensive, and then they just die,” argued Connie.

  Thomas moved slowly across the living room, until he was in his usual spot in the doorway. Connie was wiping down the counter as she talked to Kieran, who glanced at him, almost apologetically. Thomas shrugged regretfully in response.

  “Anyway, I’d rather spend the money on the photographer,” continued Connie.

  “Photographer?” echoed Thomas. “I thought this was meant to emulate a bonding. You don’t have a photographer at a bonding.”

  “This isn’t a bonding, though, is it?” Connie pointed out. “And we’re inviting all the family anyway – it’s the perfect opportunity to have a really nice family portrait done while everyone’s all dressed up.”

  “Makes sense,” agreed Kieran. “Especially since you’ll be moving so far away.”

  “Oh, that reminds me.” Connie turned to Thomas. “You’ll have to pick up dinner tomorrow night. The girls are taking me out – sort of a last hurrah before marriage. I won’t be home until late.”

  Thomas didn’t look at Kieran. �
��Before Jessie goes to sleep?”

  Connie snorted. “Before Jessie wakes up, more like.” She turned to Kieran. “Tell Thomas to call a taxi for you if it’s raining, okay?”

  “Sure,” said Kieran. Thomas did not look at him, could not tell if Kieran’s voice was particularly high-pitched or strained or equally strumming with unspoken ideas about what might happen after Jessie went to bed.

  Connie began to scrub at the counter again. “And don’t worry about Friday afternoon – I’m picking Jessie up at school so we can get our dresses before going to the rehearsal dinner.”

  “No problem,” said Kieran, and turned to Thomas.

  It was only a moment. To Thomas, it felt a thousand times as long.

  “See you tomorrow night.”

  “Have a good night,” said Thomas, exactly as if everything was perfectly normal, and waited until Kieran left before he breathed out the air he’d been holding. He pushed himself off the doorframe and went straight to the freezer, pretending to look for the ice cream as he let the cold air wash over his face.

  “You know,” started Connie, somewhere behind him, a little bit muffled by the sound of the freezer’s fan blowing.

  “Nope,” said Thomas firmly, as he pulled out the Ben and Jerry’s. “And neither do you.”

  He could feel Connie’s eyes on him as he left the kitchen, ice cream in one hand and spoon in the other.

  He couldn’t swallow a bite.

  * * *

  Thursday.

  It was still dark outside when Thomas woke up, the moon still high enough in the sky to shine through the break in his curtains, right into his eyes. He blinked slowly, trying to get his bearings, saw the clock shining a steady blue 5:23, and then rolled onto his back.

  Thursday.

  He breathed, feeling the way the sheets drifted over his chest as he moved under the covers. The house was quiet, except for the faint ticking of the heater on the far side of the room.

  Penny for your thoughts.

  “Quarter minimum,” said Thomas to the ceiling, his standard response whenever Felicity had asked. The mattress didn’t shift when Felicity curled her feet under her legs as she crouched on the bed next to him.

  Do you know what I always loved about you, Bear?

  Thomas didn’t say anything.

  Six years of sleeping alone, and you still sleep on your side of the bed.

  The shadows shifted on the ceiling, headlights from a passing car creating a searchlight that briefly illuminated the empty space on the bed next to him.

  Felicity’s laughter was gentle, loving, kind. Thomas waited until he heard Jessie and Connie awake before he swung his legs out from the bed and went to dress.

  Fourteen hours. Thomas only had to live through the next fourteen hours.

  * * *

  Twelve hours.

  Ten hours.

  Eight hours.

  Six.

  Four.

  Two.

  One.

  * * *

  When Thomas came down the stairs, having shut Jessie’s door even as her eyes closed, he could hear the water running.

  There had been a brief moment, while putting Jessie to bed, that he’d been afraid Kieran would cut and run. The entire evening had been… Thomas exhaled slowly, thinking of it. Coming home, finding Kieran and Jessie playing, just them in a house that smelled of roast chicken and potatoes, everything small and comfortable and safe.

  He could hear the soft clink and clank of pots and pans, the inconsistent beating of the water from the faucet. Jessie hadn’t let either of them wash up after dinner; she’d demanded they both sit on the floor and play. Thomas had almost protested, but it had been nice, watching the two of them together, being allowed to join in. Knowing that no one was watching them from the other side of the room. No observers, no witnesses. No one to comment on what he didn’t want seen.

  He didn’t even want to think it, really, what they might have looked like, on the floor surrounded by a Lego city: he, and Jessie, and Kieran.

  Kieran didn’t glance up when Thomas entered the kitchen. He concentrated on the pot in his hands, but Thomas could see the way Kieran held himself tightly, scrubbing at the pot with sharp, quick movements. There was tension there, and nervousness, too, given the way Kieran didn’t look at him, the fumbling motions as he reached for more things to clean.

  The dish drain was full to bursting. Thomas picked up a dishcloth and began to dry.

  They worked in tandem, in silence, until the dishes were nearly gone, and while Kieran scrubbed the last plate, Thomas hung up his towel and dried off the counters, just as he’d seen Connie do every single night. They weren’t perfectly clean or dry – but his heart pounded when Kieran turned off the water, and then turned to look at him.

  Thomas thought, briefly, of how perfectly fragile and small and brave he looked, and then he didn’t think anything at all. He reached out for Kieran, curled his fingers around the back of his neck, and pulled him in for a kiss.

  Kieran’s lips were chapped, a bit rough against Thomas’s. But he opened them with a sigh, rested his hands on Thomas’s chest, and leaned into him. He didn’t make a sound – didn’t moan, didn’t cry out, and all Thomas could hear was the drip-drip-drip of the water from the faucet.

  Kissing Kieran in the car, the previous week… that had been fast and heady and Kieran had held his own, then. Kissing Kieran in the dark playroom two days before – that was entirely different, as they both tested the other out, hesitant and uncertain.

  Here, in the brightly-lit kitchen, Kieran’s kisses weren’t so cautious. His entire body strained up toward Thomas, ready and willing. Thomas licked lightly against Kieran’s lips, which opened only so slightly, giving him access but no more, and Thomas worked at his mouth, easing and tasting as Kieran opened bit by bit beneath him.

  He tasted like chicken and wine and salt and pepper. He tasted young and impressionable and shy.

  Thomas pulled back, his heart still pounding in his chest. Kieran didn’t move; his eyes were still closed, his lips still parted. They were damp now, and Thomas thought he could see them trembling.

  “Tell me to stop,” he said softly, and for a moment, he wished Kieran would – even if it was only because he wanted to hear Kieran speak. To give him some indication that Kieran was perfectly aware of what was happening between them, and not just letting it occur.

  God, let him want to be here….

  Kieran shook his head, his hand moving up to cup around the back of Thomas’s head, dragging him back down for another kiss. And if Thomas had doubted before, it was tempered by the way Kieran held him fast, pushed up into him, his kisses searching now, reaching and desperate and increasingly eager.

  Thomas pulled away from the kiss, holding Kieran tight – when did his arms go around him, anyway? – and began to steer them out of the kitchen, across the living room and to the stairs, pulling and tugging and pushing, all the while kissing Kieran’s cheeks and eyes and ears and lips. Kieran grew increasingly eager with every touch, pressing up into Thomas’s kisses, his breath catching with every break.

  Thomas wasn’t sure how they got up the stairs, but Kieran threaded his fingers through Thomas’s when they went down the hall, past Jessie’s room without even looking at the door. They were in Thomas’s bedroom before Thomas knew it, and he closed and locked the door before turning to Kieran, standing just inside.

  Kieran wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were wide and focused squarely at the neatly made bed on the far side of the room.

  Thomas stepped up and stood behind him, close enough that he could feel the brush of Kieran’s clothes against him. Kieran’s breath came quick and steady, shoulders rising and falling. Thomas rested his hands on Kieran’s upper arms, curled his fingers around the soft curve of his biceps, and leaned down to rest his mouth just above Kieran’s ear.

  He couldn’t see the expression on Kieran’s face from this angle; couldn’t see if Kieran kept his eyes open or
closed them as he leaned back into Thomas’s chest.

  Thomas swallowed before speaking. “Tell me when to stop. Tell me it’s all right for me to be here.”

  Kieran’s head fell back against Thomas’s chest; he let out the breath Thomas didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Yes,” he whispered.

  Thomas hadn’t realized that relief could possibly feel so good. He nuzzled into Kieran’s soft curls, and slowly turned Kieran around to face him. Kieran’s breaths were steady. He moved easily, small and slender in Thomas’s arms.

  Thomas kissed Kieran’s eyes.

  “Yes.”

  His cheeks.

  “Yes.”

  His lips.

  “Yes.”

  Under his chin, where the skin was soft and supple.

  “Y-y-yes,” breathed Kieran.

  The rigid bone on the front of his neck, which Thomas sucked into his mouth gently, laving with his tongue.

  “Oh, God,” groaned Kieran, letting his head fall back to give him access. His fingers dug into Thomas’s arms, as if trying to keep himself from falling over.

  The side of his neck, where the tendons strained. Where Thomas might bite down, might bond them together, might claim Kieran for his own….

  “No.”

  Kieran’s voice was shaky, but even Thomas, as dizzy and desperate as he felt, heard the resolve, felt the way Kieran stiffened in his arms, the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

  He stopped, lips still barely touching the sensitive skin on the side of Kieran’s neck. They were motionless, catching their breaths.

  “Okay,” said Thomas, and moved his lips away, back down to the line of Kieran’s shirt. He felt, rather than heard, Kieran’s almost hysterical laugh, felt Kieran’s arms close tightly around his waist, and Thomas let his lips rest on his skin, tightened his own hold on Kieran in response.

  “It’s not that—” Kieran began.

  “Shh,” said Thomas. “It’s fine. We’re not… we’re not like that anyway.”

  Kieran breathed in his arms, and then nodded, his ear rubbing up against Thomas’s cheek in a way that was almost painful. “Yeah. I know. This is just….”

  “No,” said Thomas. He wasn’t sure why he said it, but it made Kieran stop rationalizing, anyway.