Three years later

This was the nicest apartment Goldie had ever seen. It had definitely begun its architectural life as a warehouse of some sort, judging by all of the scarred, exposed brick and twenty foot ceilings. Pipes that were no longer connected to anything ran across the walls and huge vents that were closed and had been painted over were recessed in the roof. Staircases ran up two of the walls, leading to an open second level, where a hallway connected to what must be bedrooms and more bathrooms, and a shining kitchen gleamed at the back of the main space. There was an absolutely enormous painting of the Brooklyn bridge over the fireplace. Floor to ceiling windows gave spectacular views of Soho and the Financial District.

So this was what life on the top floor looked like.

The man facing her looked very nice also, very top floor, though his face looked haggard. His brown eyes looked a little sunken in his face, and his brown hair, which was kind of long and hung in loose curls, looked like it could use a wash. And it was obvious from the scruff on his face that he hadn't picked up a razor in a couple of days. He was quite tall, over six feet for sure, and though he was quite lean, he obviously saw the inside of a gym on a regular basis. Broad shoulders in a pink polo tapered to lean hips and long legs, which were today clad in ripped up skinny jeans.

If Jeff Ormonde weren't famous and Goldie didn't already know what he looked like, she might have just assumed that this was normal for him, that he always looked like the lead singer of a grunge band; however, he was famous, and she did know what he looked like. He'd been one of the most successful musicians in the world for the last ten years, with one of the most recognizable faces anywhere, so Goldie knew exactly what he looked like; he was known for his chiseled jaw and dreamy, clean-cut good looks, nothing like the disheveled mess she saw in front of her.

Everyone said he'd taken the death of his girlfriend very hard.

It must be true, then.

And of course the reason she was here, also. She couldn't imagine how he'd been coping these last few months, taking care of three babies under the age of one on his own.

"Hello," she began, holding her hand out. "I'm Goldie Sorensen. The agency sent me?"

"Yes, of course," he responded, holding his own hand out to clasp hers. "Thank you for being on time."

It felt a little strange to Goldie to hear such a famous voice in person, but she tried to put that out of her mind. She wasn't here to fangirl over the man.

"I always try to be punctual," she answered with a smile. "Of course, in New York, you're kind of dependent on public transit, but I try to take that into account."
"And if all goes well, it won't be an issue after today, will it?" he responded. "I mean, you'll be living here?"

"Right," she responded. She looked around as he led her to the sofa and gestured for her to sit.

"I was hoping to meet the babies," she mentioned.

"Incredibly, they're all asleep," he explained. "Though I suppose I shouldn't really say 'incredibly,' as they were up until all hours crying, so they were exhausted this morning."

"Oh no," Goldie said, making a face of sympathy. "I hope they're okay?"

Jeff sighed. "Honestly, who the fuck knows?" His English accent became very clipped as he shrugged. "They can't talk, they can't tell me if anything hurts, they just—cry." He looked at Goldie out of bloodshot eyes. "Sometimes I think they must miss their mum."

Goldie was silent, not knowing what to say.

"So, your first name is Goldie? But your last name is Sorensen?" Jeff went on into the uncomfortable silence. "I always thought 'Goldie' was a Jewish name, but Sorensen isn't, is it? May I ask if you're married?"

Goldie laughed. "It's fine, I've been getting asked that all my life. "No, I'm not Jewish, and no, I'm not married. It's because of my hair." She flicked at her thick, blonde pony tail. "I'm all Danish for many generations back. I was born with almost as much hair as I have now, according to everyone who was there," she told Jeff. "And while the family was trying to come up with a really great, very Danish name for me, my grandpa just started calling me Goldie, and it stuck. By the time they absolutely had to fill out my birth certificate, everyone called me that, and it had become my name." She shrugged. "I kind of like it. No one ever forgets it, that's for sure," she said with a smile.

Jeff smiled. "It's nice," he agreed, nodding. "And it suits you.

"So you know why you're here, obviously," he said, changing the subject.

"Well, I work for a nanny service, and I know your history, so yeah, I do," she answered. "And I'm very sorry for the loss of your girlfriend," she added.

"Thank you," he replied. "It was very sudden, but I'm glad she didn't suffer. The doctor said that an aneurism in someone her age is so rare, but she literally died in her sleep, so I can't complain about that, right?" He took a deep breath.

"Oh god," Goldie said, putting a hand on his arm. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to remind you—I'm sorry—"

"No, please, stop apologizing, it's okay, it's better to just talk normally than to tiptoe around her and avoid the subject," he assured her.

Goldie blinked her eyes rapidly, looking around the room, mortified, and Jeff felt bad for her.

"Anyway," he continued. "When the girls were born, Maggie and I decided to put our careers, not on hold, exactly, but maybe on 50 percent power, for the next few years, to focus on raising them ourselves, because we didn't want to rely on outside help." He sat back and rubbed his eyes as he smiled tiredly at Goldie. "I know, it sounds insane, doesn't it? That we believed we could do that?"

Goldie shook her head. "No, not at all. I think it's admirable. And I think it's totally doable, if you both mean it, and commit to it. And it sounds like you were both doing it, too, until she died."

"Yeah, we were doing okay," Jeff mused. "I don't know about our careers being at 50 percent, though. I didn't have a hope in hell of putting out any new music in the next few years, I'll tell you that for sure.

"But anyway, after Maggie was gone, I decided to just devote myself to caring for the girls. I got help for cleaning the house, for food prep, I even started sending out the laundry. All I did was care for them." He ran his hand through his hair.

"But I couldn't do it. I just flat out, physically couldn't care for three baby girls on my own, no way, no how. I hung on for about three months? Yeah, but I was a miserable failure."
"Mr. Ormonde."

"Please, call me Jeff."
"Jeff, then. Please don't say that. There isn't a person alive who could care for three babies on their own, not with all the effort in the world." Goldie blinked blue eyes at her new employer. "I think it's admirable that you even tried."

"Is there anything you'd like to ask?" he questioned.

She shook her head. "The agency was very clear when they explained the specifics of the job to me," she answered.

"And you won't have a problem living in? With a virtual stranger?"

Again, she shook her head.

"You'll have to live with a stranger, too," she pointed out.

"Yes, but you're hardly threatening, are you?" he quipped.

"I know, believe me, I've heard all the Dutch doll jokes," she responded.

"Let me show you your room, then," he said, rising.

She followed him up the righthand staircase and down the hall.

It was very spacious, and had its own window that faced the eastern side of Manhattan, with a tiny slice of the East River visible.

"And that's your bathroom through that door there," he gestured. "Laundry room's downstairs, off the kitchen, yeah?"

"I get my own bathroom? Wow." Goldie smiled. "First time in my life."

Jeff took a breath to answer her, but a cry was heard from down the hall before he could say anything.

"Ah, perfect timing," he said. "You can meet the girls."

And Goldie noticed that, fatigue and exhaustion notwithstanding, Jeff smiled when he heard his baby cry, and was obviously eager to see the owner of the voice. He continued to talk to Goldie as they walked down the hall.

"The nursery is its own room, though it connects to the master bedroom."

They entered a spacious room that was papered in pastels and Winnie-the-Pooh, though it was the Milne version, not the Disney, which Goldie appreciated. A door in the corner led to what Goldie assumed was Jeff's room, the master bedroom.

A baby of about 8 months stood in a crib, crying. She had brown hair the same shade as her father's, with about as much curl, though her watery eyes were blue.

"Oh, Jemma, darling, what's the matter?" Jeff crooned as he crossed the room to pick up his weeping daughter.

Jemma had stopped crying, partially because of her father's presence, partially because she realized that a stranger was among them. She stared at Goldie over her father's shoulder, blue eyes wide, fingers in her mouth, as he patted her back.

"The other two will be awake shortly," Jeff predicted as he quickly laid Jemma on the changing table to take care of her diaper.

Sure enough, there was stirring from the other two cribs, and within a couple of minutes, two more little girls were up, grasping at the bars of their cribs, staring at the newcomer in their midst.

The girl in the crib under the framed print of Piglet also had brown hair, like Jemma, but her hair was straight, and her eyes were dark brown.

He got a two baby carrier, slipped it on, and strapped Jemma into it. Then he turned to the other brown-haired baby. "Hello, Pippa. Did you sleep well, little one?" he asked as he scooped her up and kissed her. He began to get her changed as the occupant of the third crib continued to stare at Goldie. She could give Goldie a run for her money in the hair department, as her hair was blonde as well. Her eyes, however, were a deep brown, like Pippa's. "Coming, coming, Genie, my darling girl, just a mo," Jeff sang out as he finished with Pippa's diaper and put her in the other slot of the baby carrier.

He grabbed Genie from her crib, quickly changed her diaper, and simply carried her in his arms and turned to Goldie.

"Shall we go back downstairs?" he suggested. "It's set up to be safe for the girls to roam, and I can introduce you to them properly."

Goldie could only nod, amazed and speechless. The entire process had taken less than three minutes.

Wow.

They went back downstairs and Jeff set them down to roam after carefully closing the gates to separate the living room area from the rest of the house.

"So, this one, with the curly brown hair and blue eyes, is Jemima, known as Jemma," Jeff said as he set the baby down. "This one, with the blonde hair and brown eyes, is Imogene, known as Genie," and she, too, was placed on the floor. "And last but not least, this little button, with the straight brown hair and brown eyes is Philippa, known as Pippa." And she, too, was set down.

All three immediately set off in different directions, crawling like they had little engines in them.

"Would you mind to keep an eye on them while I get their bottles ready?" Jeff asked as he went to the kitchen area.

Goldie just shook her head.

Again, wow.