Plucking a third donut out of the box, I say, “Did you know there are a surprising number of powerful men who fall for their children’s nannies?”
Nikki stares at me for a second. “That was random.”
“I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking about nannies lately, on account of us possibly hiring...a few.”
“A few?”
“It’s a labour law thing. Don’t ask,” I say, having a sip of water.
Nikki shifts on the couch so she’s facing me. “Okay. I take it you’re feeling a little insecure about the idea.”
Shrugging, I say, “I wasn’t until Dylan the Devil made a comment under her breath about us not hiring a pretty, young one.”
“Oh God, don’t let her bother you. She’s nuts,” Nikki says, waving her hand.
“I know. And honestly, doesn’t bother me in the least. Not really anyway. I mean, I trust Arthur completely...”
“As you should. He’s nothing if not committed to you.”
“Exactly,” I say with a firm nod.
“But?”
“But I did a little research—you know, just as an academic exercise—and it seems there’s something about watching a young woman care for a man’s children that causes him to transfer romantic feelings from his boring, old wife to the new—and therefore more exciting—woman in the house.”
“So, hire an old, wildly unattractive one,” Nikki says, having a sip of wine. “Or a manny. Ooh! Do that. A young, hot manny.”
Chuckling, I say, “Yes, both great options. But that’s not the point. I’m bothered by the fact that this bothers me, you know? I feel as though even entertaining the notion that Arthur might fall for the nanny is somehow highly insulting to Arthur.”
“That’s because itishighly insulting to him, but don’t worry. What he doesn’t know won’t cause a tiff.”
I shrug a little. “Believe me, I have no intention of admitting that. It’s not about him anyway. It’s about me being suddenly very insecure. A nurse at the doctor’s office the other day was giving Arthur the eye, and the things I was calling her in my head were definitely disproportionate to the situation.”
“Did you say them out loud?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then I think you should cut yourself some slack. It’s surprisingly normal to feel this way when you’re pregnant.”
“Really?”
She nods, licking her fingers. “I see it all the time at the salon, especially with women who are expecting for the first time. It’s scary shit—your body’s changing, and you have no idea how it’ll look when you’re done. Not to mention the fact that you can’t know what being a mum is like until you’re in it, and it’s not like you can return the baby if motherhood isn’t what it was cracked up to be. It changes a person—no more carefree days or wild nights out. You have a little person to look after for, like, twenty years or so. It completely changes your marriage, too. It’s bound to make a woman wonder if her husband will still feel the same way once the baby comes.”
“I never thought of that.”
She pauses with a hunk of donut halfway to her mouth. “Shit. Did I just make things worse?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Damn. Forget what I said. All rubbish. You and Arthur will be just fine. You’re madly in love, and this baby is going to strengthen your already sickeningly sweet bond.”
“Right,” I say with a confident smile. “Yes, exactly.”
“But just in case, maybe don’t hire any hot female nannies.”
