“Okay,what do we need to organise for Jack’s birthday?” I asked as I sat down on the sofa next to Matty at Monday lunchtime, armed with my favourite notebook and my laptop. I’d always preferred making notes on paper over my phone. It helped me get my thoughts in order, meant I could add scrawled additions when I inevitably thought of more details, and it gave me the perfect excuse to keep buying notebooks.
Matty paused the rugby match he’d been watching and frowned. “Everything, I think. I mean, Hannah and I have talked about presents, and we floated the idea of having a party, but that’s about it. The last couple of years we’ve only done small things because it didn’t make sense to throw a big party for someone who had no idea what was going on. But Jack’s been to a few parties for kids in his nursery class now, so we thought we should probably do something since he definitely gets the idea of what a birthday is. I don’t think it needs to be massive, though, or cost a fortune. I’m not spending five grand on a party for a three-year-old, no matter how much I love him. Is that bad?”
“No, I think that’s sensible,” I said. I’d never understood the need for parents to spend silly money on parties for babies, but in certain circles it seemed to be the done thing. I tried not to judge, even if I winced at the idea of spending the equivalent of six months of my wages on a party for a one-year-old. It was more for families to show off to their social circle. At least that was what it seemed like to me.
“You have opinions on this,” Matty said with a chuckle.
“No, I am not saying anything.”
“You can tell me.”
“Nope, it’s not professional of me.”
“Fuck professional, I think we crossed that boundary two days ago.” He said it casually with a wry smile, but the two of us froze the second the words came out of his mouth.
Awkwardness crackled in the air between us as we stared at each other. Both of us knew he was right, but hearing it out loud made all the difference. It forced us to truly admit we’d trampled our professional boundaries into the ground.
And while we’d gone into this willingly, with our eyes wide open, making jokes felt different.
“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you’re right. I don’t think what we did last night was exactly professional.” I tried to smile but it felt hollow. Matty had assured me that my employment wasn’t at risk, but our boundary stomping meant so many things would need to be reevaluated. We’d obviously have to remain neutral around Jack, Hannah, and, well, anyone else outside of the two of us. But how did it work when itwasjust the two of us?
And how would it work when Matty wanted or needed me to do something as Jack’s nanny? I hoped he’d just ask, but hope didn’t mean anything. And how would I feel about Matty being an arse? Would I feel like I couldn’t say anything in case he held my transgressions over my head? He didn’t seem like the sortof person to do that, but very few people did until they decided they’d gotten you in close enough.
We weren’t dating. He wasn’t my boyfriend—he was my boss. And that still meant there was a certain dynamic between us, whether we liked it or not.
It all felt so complicated, but I didn’t know if that was simply me overthinking or if both of us were struggling.
“It was fun, though,” Matty said, putting his hand on my thigh and squeezing gently. It sent a wave of warmth running through me, need kindling in my belly and making it very hard to focus on what we were supposed to be talking about. For all my worries, I still wanted this with him. My reaction to even the lightest touch made that clear.
“It was… and we have two hours before one of us has to pick Jack up from nursery, so if we plan very quickly, we’ll have time to do it again before we need to freshen up and leave.”
“Keen, aren’t you?”
“Aren’t you?” I asked, silently wondering if I’d said too much. No, I wasn’t going to think that. I was allowed to have needs and wants and desires. And I wasn’t ever going to be ashamed of them. I liked Matty and I liked hooking up with him, and I wasn’t going to stop myself from asking for what I wanted.
“Yeah, I am.” His gaze was heated as it raked over me. “Only thing keeping me from kissing you right now is the fact that if we don’t plan this bloody party now, it won’t get done.”
“It will, because I’m really fucking good at my job,” I said with a teasing grin.
“You really are.”
I sighed and gently pushed his hand off my thigh. “You’re making it very hard for me to concentrate.”
“Do you want me to apologise?” he asked, shifting slightly closer so he could brush my hair over my shoulder. His fingersgrazed the sensitive skin of my neck and I wished it was his mouth.
“N-No… but I do want you to stop distracting me. Or we won’t get the party planned, and you’ll get grumpy.”
“I don’t get grumpy!” I raised my eyebrows and tilted my head. He rolled his eyes and sat back, smiling as he did. “Fine. Party. Where do we start?”
“Date, time, guest list, budget, location, theme. Then we go from there: cake, activities, games, gifts—for Jack and guests—food, drink, and anything else we can think of.” The list rolled off my tongue with ease and Matty shot me an impressed look.
“I’ve planned a lot of kids’ parties,” I continued with a shrug. “It wasn’t always my job, but sometimes it happens. And I’ve also worked with a ton of party planners, so I borrowed lists from them.”
“People get party planners for kids’ birthdays?” He looked so stunned, a burst of laughter slipped out of me before I could stop it.
“Yeah, most people with money do. It’s pretty common. But, if you don’t want to hire someone, we can easily do it ourselves.”
