Chapter Text
Alex Claremont-Diaz prided himself on his ability to manage chaos. As a junior lawyer at a prestigious Washington D.C. firm, he thrived on tight deadlines, contentious depositions, and last-minute motions that would send others into a tailspin. But no legal training could have prepared him for the chaos of parenthood.
Especially not alone.
Six months had passed since his ex-girlfriend, a brief but passionate flame from law school, had walked out of his life and, more importantly, their daughters’ lives. Her withdrawal of parental rights had been swift, almost clinical. A signature on a piece of paper, an unceremonious phone call to inform him, and then… nothing. No contact, no explanation, just a gaping void where a partner was supposed to be.
Alex hadn’t had the time to process his feelings about her leaving because Amelia and Ava, his newborn twin daughters, demanded every ounce of his energy. He had thrown himself into parenting with the same determination he brought to court, convinced he could handle it all. But after half a year of sleepless nights, a perpetually messy apartment, and a work performance that was slipping further from his usual high standards, he was starting to admit defeat.
“Alex, you look like death,” June said bluntly as she stepped into his apartment, juggling a coffee tray and a bag of groceries. His sister, a journalist who somehow managed to stay effortlessly put together even in the midst of her busiest work weeks, didn’t sugar-coat things. “And not, like, cute, brooding death. Like… actual zombie death.”
“Thanks, June,” Alex muttered, running a hand through his dishevelled hair as he bounced Amelia on one hip. “Exactly the pep talk I needed.”
“Someone’s gotta tell you the truth.” She set the groceries on the kitchen counter and surveyed the disaster zone that was Alex’s living room. Toys were scattered across the floor. A stack of legal briefs balanced precariously on the edge of the couch. Ava was in her bouncer, staring at the ceiling fan like it held the secrets of the universe.
Alex sank onto the couch with Amelia, sighing. “I’m fine. I’ve got it under control.”
June raised an eyebrow as she bent down to pick up a tipped-over bottle. “Yeah, you really look like you’ve got it under control.”
He groaned, leaning back and closing his eyes. “I don’t have time for this conversation.”
“Well, you don’t have time for much of anything because you’re doing it all alone. Which brings me to my point.” She perched on the edge of the coffee table, her gaze sharp. “You need to hire help.”
“I can’t afford help,” Alex countered, though even he knew it was only partially true. While money was tighter than he liked, he had some wiggle room. It was his pride that refused to let him entertain the idea of a nanny. “And I don’t want some stranger raising my kids.”
“Alex,” June said, her voice softening, “you’re not failing them by asking for help. You’re only human. And the best thing you can do for them is make sure you’re not running yourself into the ground.”
He opened his eyes, meeting hers. There was no judgment in her expression, only concern. He hated that she was right. Hated even more that he was starting to realize just how close he was to burning out completely.
“I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted quietly.
June’s smile was small but triumphant. “Lucky for you, I do.”
That night, after the girls were finally asleep, Alex sat at his laptop. His apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the baby monitor on the coffee table. He clicked through the profiles on a nanny hiring website June had recommended, his skepticism growing with each one.
Some were too young, fresh out of high school with little experience. Others were older and seemed overly strict, their profiles full of rigid rules and parenting philosophies that didn’t sit right with him. He was about to give up when one profile caught his attention.
Profile: Henry Fox
Experience: Extensive childcare experience, including new-born and infant care. Former teacher specializing in early childhood education.
Education: Bachelor’s in Literature.
References: Available upon request.
Fun Fact: Avid baker and tea enthusiast.
The photo attached to the profile showed a man with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He was wearing a crisp button-down shirt, his expression calm and composed. Alex frowned. This guy looked more like someone you’d find hosting a BBC documentary than someone who’d know how to handle diaper blowouts or screaming twins at 3 a.m.
But something about the profile intrigued him. Maybe it was the understated confidence in the way it was written, or maybe it was just his own desperation creeping in. Either way, he found himself typing a quick message.
Subject: Potential Position
Hi,
I’m looking for a full-time live-in nanny for my twin daughters, Amelia and Ava, who are six months old. I’d like to set up an interview if you’re available.
Best,
Alex Claremont-Diaz
Alex hit send before he could second-guess himself. Then he closed the laptop, leaned back on the couch, and stared at the ceiling.
What the hell was he doing? He didn’t know this guy. He didn’t know if he could trust anyone to step into his daughters’ lives. But as he sat there, exhaustion seeping into his bones, he realized he didn’t have much of a choice.
For Amelia and Ava, he would do whatever it took.
Even if that meant letting a stranger into their world.
*
The next morning came too early, as it always did. Alex was jarred awake by Amelia’s insistent cries through the baby monitor. He groaned, pulling himself upright and rubbing his eyes. His body ached, his brain was foggy, but he swung his legs out of bed and stumbled toward the nursery.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” he mumbled, scooping Amelia out of her crib. Her cries softened into hiccups as she nestled against his shoulder, her tiny hands grabbing at his rumpled t-shirt. “What’s the verdict this morning, huh? Hungry? Lonely? Both?”
A glance at the other crib showed Ava still asleep, her little fist curled near her mouth. Small victories, he thought. At least he could deal with one at a time.
He carried Amelia into the kitchen, bouncing her gently on his hip as he prepared a bottle. The routine was mindless now—he could do it half-asleep, and often did—but as he sat down to feed her, a pang of guilt tugged at him. He was doing his best, but was his best enough? He didn’t have time to read parenting books or take classes. He was winging it, and sometimes that felt painfully obvious.
“Don’t judge me, kid,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to Amelia’s soft hair. “I’m figuring this out as I go.”
His phone buzzed on the counter, and he craned his neck to glance at the screen. It was an email notification—from Henry Fox.
Subject: Re: Potential Position
Dear Mr. Claremont-Diaz,
Thank you for reaching out. I would be happy to discuss the position further and answer any questions you may have. Please let me know a time that works for you.
Kind regards,
Henry Fox
Alex let out a slow breath. He hadn’t expected such a prompt response—or one so formal. It made Henry seem even more like a character from a British drama, but Alex pushed the thought aside. This wasn’t about him. It was about Amelia and Ava, and if this Henry guy could help, Alex needed to at least give him a chance.
*
Henry arrived precisely at the time Alex had set—10:00 a.m. on a Saturday. The doorbell rang as Alex was trying to wrestle Ava into her onesie while Amelia babbled happily on her play mat. He managed to wrangle the baby into her clothes and rushed to the door, smoothing his hair with one hand and opening it with the other.
“Hi,” Alex said, slightly breathless. “You’re—uh—Henry?”
The man standing on his doorstep looked like he’d stepped out of an entirely different world. His blond hair was neat, his clothes perfectly pressed, and he carried himself with an air of quiet confidence. He offered a polite smile and extended a hand.
“Yes. Mr. Claremont-Diaz?”
“Just Alex,” he said, shaking his hand. “Come on in.”
Henry stepped inside and immediately took in the scene: toys scattered across the floor, laundry piled on the couch, a faint scent of baby powder and coffee lingering in the air. To his credit, he didn’t flinch.
“These must be Amelia and Ava,” Henry said, his voice warm but restrained. He crouched slightly, his gaze landing on Amelia, who had stopped babbling to stare at him with wide eyes. “Hello there.”
Alex hovered awkwardly, unsure how to start. “Uh, yeah, that’s Amelia on the mat. Ava’s over here.” He gestured toward the bouncer where Ava was happily gnawing on a teething ring. “They’re… a handful.”
“I’m sure they are,” Henry said, straightening. “Twins often are, but I find it’s a privilege to work with them. May I sit?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” Alex gestured toward the couch, hastily shoving a pile of onesies aside to make room. “Sorry about the mess.”
Henry sat with the kind of grace Alex could only dream of, folding his hands neatly in his lap. “It’s no trouble at all. May I ask about your goals for this position? What sort of help you’re looking for?”
Alex sat across from him, crossing his arms over his chest. He still felt a little defensive, like Henry was silently judging his disaster of a life. “I need someone full-time, living here. I work a lot of hours, and I can’t always be home when I want to be. I’m… trying to balance everything, but it’s not working.”
Henry nodded, his expression neutral but attentive. “Understood. And in terms of your parenting philosophy—”
“Survival,” Alex interrupted with a wry smile. “Honestly, I don’t have time for philosophies. I just want to make sure my girls are happy and healthy. I figure everything else will fall into place.”
For the first time, Henry’s composure cracked just slightly. The corners of his mouth twitched upward, and Alex caught the faintest hint of a smile. “A pragmatic approach,” Henry said. “I can work with that.”
Before Alex could respond, Amelia let out a delighted shriek and crawled toward Henry, clutching a stuffed giraffe. Henry leaned down, accepting the toy with a quiet, “Thank you, Amelia.” She stared at him for a moment, as if assessing whether he was worthy of her giraffe, then crawled back to her mat.
“She likes you,” Alex said, trying to hide his surprise.
Henry straightened, smoothing his shirt. “Children are often good judges of character.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “Is that a humblebrag?”
“Simply an observation,” Henry replied smoothly, but his eyes glimmered with a hint of amusement.
By the time the interview ended, Alex wasn’t entirely sure how he felt. Henry was undeniably competent, and there was something steadying about his presence. But Alex wasn’t used to letting people into his life—or his daughters’ lives. Trusting a stranger felt like handing over a piece of his heart, and that terrified him.
Still, as he watched Henry crouch to pick up Ava’s dropped teething ring and hand it back to her with a gentle smile, Alex realized something.
He couldn’t do this alone. And maybe, just maybe, Henry Fox was exactly what they needed.
*
By the time Henry left, Alex felt both relieved and unnerved. On one hand, the interview had gone well—or at least, better than Alex had expected. Henry had answered all his questions with a calm, self-assured demeanour that bordered on unnerving. On the other hand, there was something about Henry that Alex couldn’t quite put his finger on. He seemed too composed, too polished, too... everything Alex wasn’t.
As Alex closed the door, he turned around to find Amelia and Ava staring at him from their respective spots on the play mat and bouncer. Amelia was chewing on her hand, and Ava was in the middle of a determined battle with her teething ring. Both of them seemed unbothered by the whirlwind of an interview that had just taken place.
“What do you think, huh?” Alex asked, dropping onto the couch with a groan. “Is he too fancy for us?”
Amelia let out a loud babble in response, as if she had a strong opinion on the matter.
“Yeah, I thought so,” Alex muttered, leaning his head back. He closed his eyes, exhaustion pulling at him. The apartment was quiet for a brief moment, save for the occasional coo or gurgle from the girls.
It was the kind of quiet that Alex hated, because it left too much room for doubt to creep in. Could he really trust someone else to help him raise his daughters? What if Henry turned out to be one of those people who looked good on paper but couldn’t handle the reality of twins? Or worse—what if he was secretly incompetent, or impatient, or just plain mean?
The thought made Alex’s stomach twist. He’d grown up with a father who was barely around, and when he was, it felt like more of a performance than a genuine connection. Alex had promised himself he would never let his kids feel that way, no matter what it took.
He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to push the thoughts aside. He needed to make a decision soon, and deep down, he already knew what it would be. Henry might be a gamble, but so was trying to do this on his own. And at this point, Alex didn’t have much left to lose.
*
A week later, Henry moved in.
Alex had expected it to feel weird, having a stranger in the house. And to be fair, it did—but not in the way he’d anticipated. Henry didn’t disrupt the rhythm of their chaotic little family; instead, he seemed to slide into place with an ease that Alex found both impressive and slightly annoying.
The morning after Henry moved in, Alex woke up to the smell of coffee and the faint sound of humming coming from the kitchen. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming. Then reality set in, and he stumbled out of bed to investigate.
He found Henry at the kitchen counter, stirring a pot of oatmeal on the stove. Ava was in her high chair, babbling happily, while Amelia sat on Henry’s hip, clutching a wooden spoon like it was a prized possession.
“You’re up early,” Alex said, his voice rough from sleep.
Henry glanced over his shoulder, his expression as calm as ever. “Good morning. I thought it best to get an early start.”
Alex blinked. “You cook?”
“I do,” Henry said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Breakfast is ready if you’d like some.”
Alex looked at the oatmeal, then at Henry, then at his daughters, who both seemed far too cheerful for this time of day. “You’ve been here for twelve hours, and you’re already showing me up.”
Henry’s lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Alex grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured himself a cup of coffee. “So, how are they treating you so far? No meltdowns?”
“None,” Henry said, bouncing Amelia gently as he spoke. “They’ve been delightful.”
“Delightful,” Alex repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That’s one word for them.”
Henry set Amelia in her high chair and placed two small bowls of oatmeal in front of the twins. They immediately started making a mess, but Henry didn’t seem fazed. He stepped back, crossing his arms as he watched them with an expression that could almost be called fond.
Alex leaned against the counter, studying him. “You’re weirdly good at this.”
Henry turned his attention to Alex, his expression shifting to something more reserved. “I take my work seriously.”
“I can tell,” Alex said, taking a sip of his coffee. “But, like… why this? Why nannying? You could probably be doing anything else.”
Henry hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering to the twins before returning to Alex. “I find it rewarding,” he said carefully. “There’s something meaningful about being part of a child’s early years.”
Alex didn’t miss the way Henry avoided the question. He wasn’t sure whether to push or let it go, but before he could decide, Amelia let out a loud shriek of delight, flinging a spoonful of oatmeal onto the floor.
Henry immediately crouched down to clean it up, his movements swift and efficient. Alex watched him, feeling an odd mix of gratitude and unease. This was what he needed—someone to help, someone who knew what they were doing—but it also made him feel like a failure. Like he wasn’t enough for his own kids.
“Alex,” Henry said, pulling him out of his thoughts. He straightened up, holding the now-clean spoon. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” Alex said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just… tired.”
Henry nodded, his expression unreadable. “Understandable. It’s a demanding role.”
“Tell me about it,” Alex muttered, draining the rest of his coffee.
Henry didn’t say anything, but there was something in his gaze that made Alex feel like he’d been seen in a way he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. It was disarming, and Alex wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
As the days went on, Alex found himself begrudgingly impressed by Henry’s ability to manage the twins. He was patient, attentive, and somehow always one step ahead of their needs. He even managed to keep the apartment relatively clean, which Alex hadn’t thought was possible with two babies in the house.
But Henry wasn’t just good with the girls. He was good with Alex, too—though Alex would never admit it out loud. Henry had a way of diffusing Alex’s frustration without making him feel like he was being judged. And when Alex came home late from work, exhausted and stressed, Henry didn’t ask questions or offer unsolicited advice. He just handed Alex a cup of tea and quietly took over the bedtime routine.
It was… unsettling, in a way. Alex wasn’t used to leaning on anyone, especially not someone like Henry, who seemed too good to be true. But the twins adored him, and Alex couldn’t deny that their lives were better with him around.
Still, Alex couldn’t shake the feeling that Henry was holding something back. There was a guardedness to him, a carefulness that felt intentional. And Alex, being Alex, wasn’t great at leaving things alone.
He didn’t know what Henry’s deal was, but he was determined to find out.
*
By the time Friday rolled around, Alex was starting to admit that having Henry in the house was less of a disruption and more of a blessing. The apartment was cleaner than it had been in months, the girls seemed calmer, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Alex had time to actually sit down and work without worrying that one of the twins was about to choke on a toy or smear puree all over the walls.
But that didn’t mean things were perfect.
“Why is she crying again?” Alex called from the kitchen as Amelia’s wails echoed from the nursery. He was elbow-deep in preparing bottles for the night and already counting down the hours until he could collapse into bed.
“She’s overtired,” Henry’s calm voice came from down the hall. “She’s fighting sleep.”
“Great,” Alex muttered, capping the last bottle and wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Let me—”
“I’ve got it,” Henry interrupted gently, appearing in the doorway with Amelia in his arms. She was red-faced and squirming, her tiny fists flailing as she protested the very idea of sleep.
Alex froze, uncertain. “Are you sure? She can be… a lot.”
Henry raised an eyebrow, cradling Amelia against his chest as he began to sway gently back and forth. “I think we’ll manage.”
Alex watched, sceptical, as Henry moved toward the living room. He didn’t seem the least bit flustered by Amelia’s screaming, which was impressive considering how quickly the sound could reduce Alex to a stressed-out mess. Henry hummed softly as he paced, his movements smooth and deliberate. Within minutes, Amelia’s cries began to taper off, her body relaxing against him.
Alex stared. “How did you do that?”
Henry glanced at him, the faintest hint of amusement in his expression. “Patience. And practice.”
“That’s… kind of infuriating,” Alex admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been trying to figure out her sleep cues for months, and you waltz in here and figure it out in, what, a week?”
Henry didn’t respond right away, his focus still on Amelia, whose eyelids were drooping. When he finally spoke, his tone was thoughtful. “Children respond to energy. If you’re calm, they’re more likely to be calm. It’s not always fool proof, of course, but it helps.”
“Great,” Alex said, throwing up his hands. “So now I’m not just a terrible parent, I’m an anxious mess ruining my kids’ vibe.”
Henry stopped swaying and turned to face him fully, his gaze steady. “You’re not a terrible parent, Alex.”
Alex scoffed. “Yeah, okay. Says the guy who’s been here for all of five days.”
“I don’t need more time to see how much you care for them,” Henry said simply. “You’re doing your best, and that’s more than enough.”
The sincerity in his voice caught Alex off guard. He wasn’t used to compliments, especially not from someone like Henry, who seemed to have everything figured out. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say.
“Thanks,” he muttered finally, looking away. “But you don’t have to sugar-coat it. I know I’m barely holding it together.”
Henry didn’t press the issue, which Alex appreciated. Instead, he carried Amelia back to the nursery, returning a few minutes later with the kind of quiet confidence Alex could only envy.
*
After the girls were down for the night, Alex slumped onto the couch, exhausted but grateful for a rare moment of peace. Henry was in the kitchen, washing bottles with the same efficiency he seemed to bring to everything.
“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Alex called. “I can handle it.”
“I don’t mind,” Henry replied without turning around. “It’s part of the job.”
Alex frowned, watching him. “You’re weirdly good at this. Like, unsettlingly good.”
Henry glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “Unsettlingly?”
“Yeah,” Alex said, sitting up straighter. “You’re like a childcare robot or something. It’s not normal.”
Henry chuckled softly, a sound Alex hadn’t heard before. It was low and warm, and for some reason, it made Alex’s chest feel tight. “I assure you, I’m human.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Alex muttered, leaning back again. “Seriously, though. Why are you doing this? You could probably be teaching or writing books or—I don’t know—hosting a cooking show.”
Henry dried his hands and crossed the room, sitting down in the armchair across from Alex. “You think I should be doing something more… glamorous?”
“I think you could,” Alex said. “But instead, you’re here. Taking care of someone else’s kids.”
Henry’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something Alex couldn’t quite place. “Not everything worthwhile is glamorous,” he said quietly. “And I don’t consider this ‘just’ taking care of someone else’s kids. Amelia and Ava are—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “They’re remarkable in their own way. It’s a privilege to be part of their lives.”
Alex wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It wasn’t what he’d expected—wasn’t what anyone else had ever said about his girls, especially not with that level of sincerity. Most people pitied him for being a single dad or acted like he was some kind of saint for taking care of his own kids. But Henry didn’t seem to see it that way, and Alex didn’t know what to do with that.
“Yeah, well,” he said after a moment, “they’re lucky to have you.”
Henry smiled faintly, his gaze steady. “I hope to be worthy of their trust. And yours.”
Alex swallowed hard, caught off guard by the directness of the statement. He wasn’t used to people being so… earnest. It made him feel exposed in a way he didn’t like. “You’re off to a good start,” he said gruffly, standing up. “Don’t mess it up.”
“I’ll do my best,” Henry said, his tone light but his eyes serious.
Alex nodded, then retreated to his bedroom before the conversation could get any more intense. As he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Henry had said—or the way he’d said it.
For the first time in a long time, Alex felt like he wasn’t completely alone. And that was terrifying.