His Nanny Mate - Season 3 Episode 83

Ella

As we pulled up to the lookout point, the dazzling city lights sprawled out beneath us like a twinkling tapestry.

The vastness of the view was breathtaking, and I felt a small shiver run down my spine, not from the cold, but from the sheer beauty of it all. Logan parked the car and turned off the ignition. The silence of the night was only punctuated by the faint hum of the city below.

“Come on,” he whispered, gesturing for me to follow. We clambered onto the hood of the car, the cool metal pressing into my legs, and sat side by side, staring out at the shimmering skyline.

The vast city lights stretched out before us, flickering in a rhythmic dance of night. It felt as if we were suspended between two worlds-the serenity of the elevated viewpoint and the bustling city below.

“It looks so small from up here,” I murmured, my fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the cool metal of the car hood beneath us. “But when I’m in it, it feels endless.”

Logan chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Big cities have that effect. What was your home city like?”

I sighed, leaning back on my hands and letting the cool night air wash over me. “I was lucky, I quess, I began, my mind drifting back to earlier days. “I grew up in a penthouse in a beautiful part of the city. I had my own room, with this big bay window that overlooked a park.”

“You had a park right next to your penthouse?” Logan asked. I nodded, smiling at the memory. “Yes, right across the street. We went there all of the time. Many afternoons were spent there, with Moana. and my little sister. We’d have picnics beneath the willow trees, chase butterflies, and just… be. Those were simpler times.”

As I spoke, I remembered one particularly fond memory from my childhood, before Daisy was born and before Moana and my dad got together. It was back when Moana was still my nanny. She took me across the street to a little farmer’s market, and bought me a yellow stuffed duck.

I still had that duck. It was sitting on my bedside table back at my apartment. Logan seemed to absorb my words, looking out at the distant horizon. After a moment, he turned to me, his gaze searching. “Ella, is it true what they said at that party about Moana?”

I knew what he was referring to. Taking a deep breath, I nodded. “Yeah, she isn’t my biological mom. And, yes, she was originally my nanny.

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My little sister was the product of a one night stand.” He waited, giving me the space to continue or not. I appreciated that.

“But,” I started, my voice growing soft, “I don’t really care about biology. Moana has been more of a mother to me than my biological mother ever was. She’s filled our home with love, warmth, and laughter. I’m so grateful she came into my and my father’s lives.”

A smile played on Logan’s lips. “She must be someone special.”

“She is,” I replied, my heart full of gratitude. “We love each other dearly. She’s the reason I believe in unconditional love. She’s my dad’s fated mate, you know.”

Logan was quiet for a moment, then his voice broke through the night, softer than I’d ever heard it. “You’re very pretty when you talk about the past like that. When you’re genuinely happy.”

I could feel the warmth creep up my cheeks, making me thankful for the dim lighting. “Thank you,” I whispered, suddenly feeling shy.

Desperate for a change in topic, I turned my attention to the sleek machine we were perched on. “This is a really nice car,” I remarked, trailing my fingers along its smooth red surface. “Have you always had a thing for cars?”

The serenity of the moment was palpable, yet it also held an underlying tension, like an unsaid secret just waiting to be revealed.

“I guess you could say that,” Logan began, his voice contemplative. “As soon as I was old enough, I began saving up for my first car-this car. And as soon as I was able to drive, I bought it and never looked back. I’ve always loved cars, ever since I was a kid. They’ve been… an escape for me.”

I turned to look at him, intrigued. “An escape from what?”

He hesitated, his jaw clenching slightly. “From my home life,” he murmured, sounding somewhat apprehensive. I frowned, unsure if I should pry, but curiosity got the better of me. “Was it that bad? Your home life, I mean?”

For a moment, Logan looked lost, his eyes distant. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, as if he was sharing a heavy secret. “It wasn’t a good way to grow up,” he admitted. “And you know what’s funny? I sometimes resent people like you, just a little bit.”

I was taken aback. “What do you mean?”

He glanced at me, his blue eyes intense. “You grew up with both-money and a loving family. I always thought you get one or the other. But never both. I got the money part, sure, but the loving family? Not so much.”

There was so much pain in his voice, so much vulnerability. “Sometimes I think I would have preferred growing up poor, but with two parents who genuinely loved me,” he confessed, and there was an undeniable wistfulness in his voice.

I felt a pang in my heart. For all the teasing and the banter, I realized how little I truly knew about Logan. I reached out instinctively, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Are you in touch with your mother?” I asked gently. “I haven’t heard anything about her.”

His whole demeanor changed. There was a shadow in his eyes, a hardness that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Ella,” he said, his voice cold, “it’s getting late. I think it’s time I drive you home.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Did I say something wrong?”

He didn’t answer, instead sliding off the car and walking around to the driver’s side. “Let’s just. stick to our new contract. You don’t need to be ‘trapped’ with someone like me,” he said, his voice somewhat bitter. The word ‘mafia’ hung unsaid in the air between us.

Silently, I followed him and got into the passenger seat. We drove in silence, the tension between us thick and palpable. The city lights that had seemed so beautiful just moments ago now felt cold and distant.

My mind raced, trying to process what had just transpired. Had I crossed a line by mentioning his mother? I wanted to apologize, to clarify, but the stern set of his jaw told me that now wasn’t the right time.

We pulled up outside my apartment, and before I could say a word, Logan said, “Goodnight, Ella,” his voice devoid of its usual warmth.

“Logan,” I began, desperate to clear the air, but he just shook his head.

“Just… take care of yourself, Ella.”

I watched him drive away, a mix of emotions swirling inside me-confusion, guilt, and a deep sense of regret. I had so many questions, but for now, they would remain unanswered.