The Billionaire's Nanny

Chapter Fifteen

Time passes so quickly, sometimes in the blink of an eye.

My nightmares came and went, some nights worse than others. And on those nights I found myself down in the kitchen sipping mugs of hot chocolate with Nathan, or playing video games that ended up with some serious competitive streaks in the both of us.

When March rolled around, we found ourselves planning a birthday party for the finally one year old on our hands. We celebrated with Greg and Lisa and their family.

After putting the girls to bed, I was downstairs cleaning up the aftermath of opened presents and cupcake wrappers, and leftover ice cream and cake plates.

Gathering the trash up, I quickly dropped it in the trash can, before running hot water mixed with soap to wipe down the sticky countertops and table.

"Girls asleep?"

I turned to see Nathan casually leaning against the wall, an amused look on his face.

"Went down without a fight. I think they crashed after a sugar high."

He laughed at that, running a hand through his hair. "That's fair. What are you doing?"

I gestured to the pink frosting smeared counter top. "Cleaning up the aftermath."

"Need any help?"

"The garbage needs to be taken out, " I answered after sweeping the kitchen with my eyes.

"I'm on it."

I smiled as he lifted the bag out of the trash can and headed into the garage.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I tapped on a music playlist and let the light jazz music fill the air.

"I didn't take you for a jazz person," Nathan said walking back into the kitchen.

I laughed as he put in a new liner. "I haven't always been. In recent years though, I've liked it more and more."

The song changed as we washed a few dishes and finished the counters, making Nathan laugh.

"Does Michael Bublé count as jazz?"

"I don't know, " I said, amused at his question. "I just like his voice."

He nodded, before grabbing the broom and using it as microphone and singing along to the lyrics.

I laughed at that before he reached out his hand to grab mine. "Dance with me," he said dropping the broom to spin me into his arms.

I couldn't help the grin that stretched across my face as he spun me around the kitchen as the song played.

When it finished, he smiled letting go of my hand and bowing. "thank you for the dance."

I curtsied in response. "Thank you sir."

We began heading upstairs to head to bed, joking about our recent winnings in our almost nightly gaming.

"I swear you cheat, no one is just that good at Mario kart."

"I could say the same for your street fighter."

"Whoa," he said, holding up his hands in mock defense. "Street fighter is a game of skill."

"So what's Mario Kart?" I countered, leaning against my doorframe.

"A game of not skill."

I laughed. "Alright, then I guess next time we play I'll have to raise my stakes in street fighter."

"Who says you have to wait?"

"Are you challenging me sir?"

"That I am."

I smiled, heading for the stairs. "You're on."