Chapter 3 - Fever and First Impressions
"You..." Rebecca whispered, her voice trembling as she clutched the grey blanket tighter around her chest. "You're... Mr. Grant."
"Nathaniel," he corrected quietly, mindful not to jar Emma, who had begun to stir again at the sound of voices. "And you are currently running a fever high enough to melt a thermometer."
Rebecca tried to sit up again, ignoring the dizziness that immediately made the ceiling spin. "I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean... Emma, what did you do? Why are you—how did you—"
"Mommy, my tummy hurts," Emma whimpered, shifting against Nathaniel and burying her face deeper into his shoulder. "And the bus was loud."
Rebecca looked as though she might burst into tears right then and there. The sheer humiliation of being caught in a state of absolute vulnerability by a wealthy stranger—let alone the man she had disastrously stood up for a blind date arranged by a well-meaning assistant—seemed to physically crush her.
"Mr. Grant—Nathaniel," Rebecca stammered, her voice thick with panic and sickness. "Please put her down. You shouldn't be here. This place is a mess, I'm contagious, and I don't even know how my daughter managed to slip out of the apartment while I was passed out from the flu—"
"Your daughter," Nathaniel interrupted, his tone remarkably gentle despite the austere expression on his face, "crossed four blocks, boarded a city bus, and navigated Madison Avenue alone because she was terrified you were going to cry over a missed coffee date."
Rebecca stopped breathing. Her wide, hazel eyes stared at him, the horror on her face deepening into absolute disbelief. "She... she what?"
"She took the bus," Nathaniel repeated, walking carefully over to the narrow bed. He lowered himself down onto the edge of the mattress, ignoring how completely ridiculous his bespoke Italian suit looked sitting on a secondhand twin bed with a sagging spring. He carefully transferred Emma into her mother's waiting, trembling arms.
Rebecca instantly wrapped her arms around her daughter, burying her face in Emma's blonde pigtails, her shoulders shaking with silent, overwhelmed sobs. "Oh, my baby. My stupid, brave little girl. You could have been hurt. You could have gotten lost."
"I had my emergency card, Mommy," Emma mumbled drowsily, her eyes already closing again as the safety of her mother's arms enveloped her. "And Mr. Nathan was there. He bought me a car ride."
Rebecca looked up at Nathaniel over the top of Emma’s head. Tears tracked through the flush of her fever, carving clean paths down her pale cheeks. There was no artifice left. No social masks. No games. Just raw, desperate motherhood and a woman completely at the end of her rope.
"I'm firing Olivia," Nathaniel said deadpan, though a faint, ghost-like twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. "She told me you weren't allergic to sincerity. She failed to mention you were raising a tiny, rogue special forces operative."
A weak, breathy huff of laughter escaped Rebecca's lips, quickly turning into a cough. She winced, pressing a hand to her chest.
"Don't fire Olivia," Rebecca whispered, her voice rough. "She's... she's the only reason I agreed to this insane setup in the first place. I thought... God, I thought maybe I could pretend to be normal for two hours. Just two hours away from lesson plans, rent increases, and empty grocery cabinets."
Nathaniel didn't answer immediately. He stood up from the bed, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and tossed it neatly over the back of the bedroom chair. Then, before Rebecca could protest, he rolled up his crisp white shirtsleeves past his elbows, revealing strong, forearms dusted with dark hair.
"Where do you keep your thermometer and the acetaminophen?" Nathaniel asked, already turning toward the small hallway.
May you like
"The bathroom cabinet," Rebecca blinked, bewildered. "Third shelf down. But Mr. Grant, you really don't—"
"My name is Nathaniel," he said over his shoulder, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And since your daughter made me an official participant in this afternoon's domestic crisis, I'm staying until your fever breaks."
