“Something wrong?” the gorgeous woman asks with a gentle smile on her face. “Is the pizza not good?”
I snap back to reality. Holy fuck. I’ve fanaticized in the past about getting Marcy pregnant and making her mine permanently, but I’ve never let myself go too far down that mental road. It was mostly because I always assumed that she was happy with her life, but now, seeing her with my daughter, I’m not so sure anymore.
“No, I’m fine,” I say in a somewhat choked voice before taking a sip of my beer. “Just a little dry, that’s all.”
She nods, and I watch as she and Vivi giggle, clinking their cups in a ‘cheers.’ But then, things get even crazier.
“I can be your kid!” Vivi’s chipper tone interrupts my internal battle. “Can you be my new mommy, Marcy?”
Holy fuck, what is going on? Is the world going insane? The Earth seems to stop turning on its axis for a moment as Marcy and I lock eyes across the table. I’m not sure what my expression must look like, but hers is a mixture of panic, pleasure, and surprise.
“Well, um,” I begin, floundering for an answer. Leave it to kids to speak the unspeakable, I fume to myself. Fortunately, my beautiful babysitter steps in to save me.
“You’re really sweet to ask, hon,” Marcy murmurs. “I love spending time with you, so why don’t we just keep doing that for now?”
Vivi shrugs. “Okay,” she says, completely oblivious to the chaos she’s just caused. “That sounds good.”
“Thank you,” I mouth across the table.
The beautiful woman sends me a quick smile but then doesn’t look at me for the next several minutes, seemingly preoccupied with helping my daughter eat her meal.
Meanwhile, I’m unable to tear my eyes from the domestic scene before me. What the hell have I gotten myself into? Holy shit, is Marcy thinking what I’m thinking? My mind whirls because I’d love to give my gorgeous babysitter a baby for real. But is that what she wants too?
10
Marcy
* * *
I pull my sweater around my curves tighter, wishing I’d brought another layer to wear on the train now that the weather is finally getting chilly. I reach for my hat but stop short.
Damn, I think to myself, I left my beanie at Jared’s. I dig through my bag, and sure enough, my hat isn’t there. Okay, no worries. I’ll probably see him tomorrow anyways, so I’ll grab it then. I shoot him a quick text to let him know that I left it at his house, and to please bring it the next time we hang out.
Then, I let out a small sigh and lean back onto the hard plastic seat. The subway is grimy as always, but I barely notice because I’m on my way to babysit for a new client. I’ve got to appear polished and professional, yet my mind is preoccupied with all things Jared. After all, my lover’s been more generous than ever over the last few months. I’ve actually been kind of shocked with how much he’s spoiling me and I feel like my bank account’s groaning under all the money he’s deposited.
But to what end? I lament. As much as I like Jared and as much as I know he likes me, I honestly have no idea how much longer our little agreement is actually going to last. It’s been at least four or five months already. Is he bored of me yet? There haven’t been any signs of that happening, but who knows? Men join Sanctum in order to tap into a supply of never-ending beautiful young women. At any moment, I could be discarded and a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed young thing trotted out to take my place. My heart tells me that Jared’s just as invested in me as I am in him, but I’ve been wrong before.
Plus, the man is still paying me. I hate it because it makes me feel so whorey and cheap. I mean, sometimes I genuinely feel like his girlfriend simply because of how loving and good we are together. But whenever that little ding sounds on my phone notifying me that I have a new direct deposit, my heart lurches. I’ve thought about asking him to stop, to just let us see where things can go organically, but then fear compresses my heart and it becomes a small, cold stone. There’s so little security in the world, and my common sense tells me to let the money train keep rolling.
Besides, the cash is an unspoken part of our relationship. It’s a stabilizing factor, almost. So if I suddenly tell Jared to stop paying me, then he’s going to know that I want things to change. Even worse, he’ll know that I’ve fallen in love with him, and that’s going too far. The embarrassment would kill me because what if he doesn’t love me back? The billionaire likes me and appreciates me, sure. But love? No, I don’t think so.