The Substitute Wife

Chapter 4

Emma

That interview had gone way better than I expected. Not that I thought it would go poorly, but after getting laid off, my confidence had taken a hit. I hadn’t exactly pictured myself as a nanny, either. But Jack had changed that a little.

Even though I already had the job, my nerves still prickled when I rang the doorbell of the stunning Lincoln Park brownstone an hour later. Damn, this is nice. Lincoln Park had always been my dream Chicago neighborhood—gorgeous architecture, tree-lined streets, right on the park (of the same name), and perfect lake proximity. Way too posh for me, but definitely the kind of place I could see myself designing a home in.

The heavy wooden front door swung open, and Jack stood there with a professional smile. Not fake, exactly, but not entirely real either. If I had to guess, he wasn’t the kind of guy who smiled easily.

“Hi, Emma, come on in.”

“Hi, your place is beautiful,” I said, stepping into the foyer and immediately eying the original plaster crown molding.

The space had that old-world charm money couldn’t fake with original details everywhere – the staircase with a polished wooden banister to the right, a cozy sitting room to the left, and a hallway stretching ahead that hinted at more rooms beyond. Moving boxes were stacked everywhere, some half-open, as if unpacking had been abandoned mid-effort.

By the stairs, Sophie stood hesitantly, clutching the hem of her blue dress.

“Hi, you must be Sophie,” I said warmly, crouching down to her level. “I’m Emma.” I extended my hand like we were business associates.

She hesitated, then gave me a small, polite handshake. “Nice to meet you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Nice to meet you too,” I said, flashing her a grin.

Jack stepped beside us. “You’ll have to ignore the mess. We’re still unpacking. Sophie, want to give Emma the tour?”

She nodded, serious as anything, then turned and walked down the hall without another word.

I grinned at Jack before following after her.

Sophie led a completely silent tour, which meant I had to bring my A+ conversation game. Every time we stepped into a room, I made some exaggerated comment—“Oh, this is a very serious-looking dining room. Do you guys host royal banquets?”—or pointed out a funny feature—“This bathroom has three mirrors? You must really want to make sure your daddy looks good.”

I finally earned a tiny smile from her when we reached the second floor.

“Wow, your room is so great,” I said genuinely, stepping into what was clearly her bedroom. The space had a full bed with a floral quilt, a few scattered toys, and plenty of unopened boxes. “You have the best light! That’s important for a room, you know.”

Sophie tilted her head. “Why?”

“Well, light affects everything. If it’s too dark, it can feel gloomy, and if it’s too bright, it can feel cold. But this?” I turned in a slow circle, taking in the big bay window. “This is just right. But…” I tapped my chin dramatically. “I do think we need to pick a color for the walls. What’s your favorite color?”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, if your dad’s okay with it, we should paint your room! Make it yours.”

Her eyes flicked to Jack, who had leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

I raised a brow at him. “Well? What do you think, Dad?”

A small grin ghosted over his face. “Sounds like a great idea to me.”

Sophie beamed. “Can we do purple?”

“Of course we can do purple. Good thing I know my way around a paintbrush.”

She gasped. “You do?”

I winked. “Kid, you have no idea.”

Jack set Sophie up with a show on the TV in the upstairs den before leading me back downstairs.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” he asked as we stepped into the sun-drenched kitchen.

“Water would be great, thanks.”

He grabbed a glass from an open moving box and filled it. “Let’s head out to the coach house. I’ll show you the space and we can talk about salary.”

I followed his gesture toward the window, and my breath caught.

The yard was small but adorable—a tiny, well-kept garden framed a stone patio and a big, towering maple. And then there was the coach house.

With its red brick, ivy crawling up the sides, and green-trimmed windows that gave it an almost storybook charm. It was set above the two car garage, tucked into the property like a hidden retreat.

I was already in love.

Jack led me across the backyard and unlocked the door. “The previous owners included everything in here in the sale so it’s fully furnished. Feel free to change anything. I’m not tied to it.”

I stepped inside and nearly sighed at the perfection.

The space was straight out of a Nancy Meyers movie with white walls, soft linen furniture, and warm wood floors. A tiny cozy kitchen with cheery yellow cabinets was tucked into one corner, complete with actual marble countertops and open shelving. The living area had a plush white linen couch, a vintage rug, and an overstuffed striped chair.

“This is insane,” I said, turning in a slow circle. “I mean… it’s perfect.”

Jack, who was leaning against the doorframe again, let out a chuckle. “Glad you like it.”

“I love it.” I practically floated into the bedroom, where gauzy curtains let in the golden afternoon light. “I don’t even care what the salary is—”

“You might,” he said dryly.

I turned to find him watching me, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

“I’m offering a year-long contract,” he said. “Seventy-five thousand. Plus this apartment.”

I froze.

That was—too good to be true.

I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Seventy-five,” he repeated. “Plus the apartment. I need someone I can trust with Sophie. And you seem like a good fit.”

For a second, I just stared at him.

Then, with a slow grin, I exhaled and crossed my arms.

“Well, Dr. Greene,” I said, “I think you just found yourself a nanny.”