Chapter 68


    Chapter 68: A New Page


    Edrick


    Now that the issue of Moana’s pregnancy was settled, in our household at least, I felt much more at


    peace than before. E seemed to get happier by the day, and would chatter away about her future


    sibling almost every night at dinner. The issue of figuring out how to best bring it up to my parents was


    still something I would have to deal with, but at least I had a little time; it’ wasn’t as though my father


    was walking around my penthouse and would see Moana’s growing belly, unlike E, who would’ve


    seen it happening before her very eyes. Part of me wanted to keep up the lie and tell my parents that I


    wasn’t the father, but I knew that it would be useless with E running around. Eight year olds don’t


    exactly make the best keepers of secrets.


    Things seemed to settle down into a new normal over the next several days. The servants were kind to


    Moana and helped her whenever she needed it, but she was still mostly independent with her work.


    However, I couldn’t help but wonder if she would really still be considered a ‘nanny’ once she got


    further on in the pregnancy, and especially once she had the baby. I had the money to continue paying


    her for caring for E, of course, but I did wonder asionally if it would be appropriate — especially


    once my family found out.


    I just kept telling myself that we could cross that bridge when we came to it, though, and that bridge


    was still quite a ways away. I could take some time to think about the best n of action as to how to


    address it when that time came.


    I noticed that Moana seemed to be spending more time doodling in her sketchbook — well, not really


    doodling, as she was admittedly far better than that. Whenever she had some time to herself while E


    yed or was busy with her violin and piano lessons, I would catch her sitting in some sunny corner


    with her sketchbook in herp.


    If I was being honest, it made me a bit curious. She seemed so focused on her drawings; what, exactly,


    was she drawing?


    She caught me looking a few times, too. But I wasn’t only looking at her sketchbook.


    When I would see her in the sunlight, her hair would turn an even more fiery shade of red. And, as the


    pregnancy progressed, she seemed to have a maternal glow about her that made her even more


    beautiful. I caught her sometimes looking at me, too, and we’d both quickly look away at the same time


    with an unspoken rule between us to not say anything about it.


    But, when I couldn’t sleep at night, I kept those images of her in my mind; particrly the one image


    that was still burned into my memories of the morning that I found her sleeping with E. Sometimes,


    just thinking about it made me fall asleep, but most nights it kept me awake more than anything.


    I tried not to think about her. It wasn’t the right thing for me to think about her. Even though she was


    carrying my child, she was still the same as before: my very human nanny. I couldn’t have any sort of


    romantic rtionship with her, and that was final. Even the thought of it had to be cast out of my mind


    before things went too far.


    That was why, one night, I decided to climb out of bed and get myself a drink; maybe the alcohol would


    make the picture of her in the sunlight leave my mind.


    I quietly walked to the living room, barefoot in nothing but my pajama pants, and poured myself a ss


    of wine at the minibar. I sunk down into therge, plush armchair with a sigh, and swirled the red liquid


    around in my ss before taking a sip.


    “Bleh.” I made a face to myself as I realized that the wine had gotten too warm and now tasted foul. I


    got up and grabbed the bottle, shuffling over to the kitchen to dump it out into the sink. When I was


    finished, I walked back to the minibar and decided to go for the old tried and true: whiskey.


    As I was pouring the whiskey, however, I noticed something: Moana’s bedroom door, which I could see


    from where I stood, was cracked open. The light was on. Something in me wanted to check to see why


    she was up thiste and if she was okay, so I quietly walked over and knocked softly.


    There was no answer. Maybe she fell asleep while reading?


    I slowly cracked the door open a little more and poked my head in, but she wasn’t in her bed.


    “Moana?” I quietly called out, stepping into her room. Her bathroom door was open, and she wasn’t in


    there. I decided that she must have fallen asleep in E’s room, so I walked over to the bedside table to


    shut off themp with a sigh.


    That was when I saw her sketchbook lying on the bed.


    My curiosity got the best of me. I couldn’t help myself; I set my ss of whiskey down on the side table


    and picked up the sketchbook, opening it. As I flipped through, I saw countless drawings of the city


    view from her balcony, each one getting better than thest, as though she was practicing.


    Then, I came across the sketch I’d found her working on during one of the nights we slept together. I


    sank down onto the edge of the bed as I looked at it, taking in how beautifully she’d finished it. It was


    the finished drawing of E and I on the ferris wheel. E was sitting on myp, pointing with her finger


    out over the crowd with a smile on her face. Moana had stylized it, of course, and had removed my


    surgical mask and sunsses. My eyes looked so lifelike as they followed E’s finger.


    I turned the page then, and suddenly felt a skip in my chest as I saw what she’d drawn next.


    That must have been what she’d been working on so muchtely: little doodles of baby shoes, baby


    clothes, and, when I turned the page…


    A list of names.C0pyright ? 2024 N?v)(elDrama.Org.


    Adam. Genevieve. Liam. Celeste. Noah… She hadn’t only been drawing these past several days, but


    she’d also been thinking of names. Something about it warmed my heart, to think that she was sitting in


    those patches of sunlight thinking about our baby’s name.


    Suddenly, I heard the floorboards creak next door in E’s room. I cursed under my breath and quickly


    threw the sketchbook down on the bed, tiptoeing out and just managing to get out to the living room


    before I saw Moana sleepilye out of E’s room, then shuffle over to her room and shut the door


    behind her.


    I breathed out a sigh of relief. How could I exin that I was in her room, snooping through her


    sketchbook at night?


    But then again, as I walked back to my room, I realized that I’d have to exin it anyway — because I’d


    identally left my ss of whiskey on her bedside table.