Barrett
Iused to hate mornings. I used to wake up in a groggy fog and spend four cups of coffee trying to produce a clear thought in my head. That was pre-single-dad status. Post single dad status, I didn’t have the time to be groggy.
I had to hit the ground running in the morning, waking up with a bounce, and getting breakfast on, and that vat of coffee that I was used to drinking, and then I got the kids up. Chloe was always sleepiest in the morning, and Henry usually shot out of bed as soon as I’d opened the curtains. It was all the little ways that my twins were different and yet similar that fascinated me.
Then, I went to get dressed, as they wandered around their rooms, and played. Next it would be dressing them, getting downstairs, coffee, breakfast, and drop off. The weekends offered little respite, as there were early morning clubs and activities to get to both Saturday and Sundays, and sometimes it felt like if I dropped the ball, for even a moment, the carefully scheduled world all come crashing down.
I supposed that would make their mother, and my ex-wife, Amber, happiest of all. Proof that having kids was a thankless job, and evidence that I wasn’t good enough to manage it all. Just the thought of the woman who had left us annoyed me, as I straightened my tie in the mirror and headed toward Henry’s room. I didn’t miss Amber one bit, and we were coping ok. Life was a little chaotic, but hey, we were together, and there was nothing that Chloe, Henry, and I couldn’t handle as long as we stuck together.
Anyway, for the last six months, I’d had a secret weapon.
A special, vital component of our household that made everything click together.
The au pair sent from heaven.
Emma Andrews.
My obsession.
“Good morning, Mr Bonneville,”Emma called as she sailed past my open doorway. I stiffened, in more ways than one, at the sight of her. She was wearing stretchy black yoga pants and a sports bra that hid her delectable cleavage completely, but showed off her waist. My eyes followed her hungrily in the mirror. Every glimpse was a treat to my wolfish gaze. She was heading toward Chloe’s room, and I followed, Henry trailing behind me. Emma picked up dropped clothing on her way, shut sagging open drawers with a lithe hip, and sang to herself quietly, as she walked.
“Morning, bug!” she called to Chloe, who had just emerged from the covers. My daughter’s face lit up at the sight of her favourite person. I’d like to fool myself into thinking that person was me, but I knew the truth. My kids had latched onto Emma with all the love in their desperate, abandoned hearts, and she was now a part of them. A part of us.
I leaned in the doorway and watched as Emma and Chloe laughed together by the vanity table, as Emma started to brush Chloe’s long dark hair, and plait it. I didn’t care if my children had crowned Emma as our honorary matriarch, or that they had filled the vacuum left by their feckless mother with this young, sweet woman, far from home. I didn’t care one bit, because I fully intended on making it official: I was going to marry Emma Andrews, age difference, be damned, and give my kids a family again. I was going to give myself a wife again, this time a smart, kind woman, who I wanted more than I’d ever wanted anyone. Thoughts of Emma had overtaken my every moment, and at this point, I was more than a little obsessed. It was no doubt wrong to lust after a girl fifteen years younger than me.
I didn’t care. Emma was an adult, and she could make her own decisions. I wouldn’t rest until she chose me.