All Chapters of Too Late, Mr. Cross: Chapter 131 - Chapter 135

DAMIAN“We are not hiring a nanny.”Elena stopped fastening Lucas into the car seat and looked up at me.“You said that yesterday, and I heard you the first time.”“I assumed we would discuss it before you started looking for candidates.”“I haven’t started looking for candidates. I said we need to start looking because carrying Lucas between our offices is becoming ridiculous.”“I can rearrange my schedule.”“So can I, but that isn’t the point.” She checked the buckle across Lucas’s chest. “You have Cross to run, and I have a company that just took an order from twelve stores. We cannot both pretend we have unlimited time because neither of us wants somebody else caring for him.”“I don’t want a stranger alone with him.”“Neither do I.” She picked up the diaper bag. “That is why people interview nannies, Damian. They check qualifications, call references, and spend time with them before leaving their children in their care.”“He was premature.”“I remember giving birth to him.”“That

DAMIAN“You’re staring at him again,” Elena said as she lowered her tablet onto her lap.“I’m watching him attempt to eat his own foot.”“That is called discovering his body.”“He discovered his hands last month. I thought we were making progress.”Lucas released his sock long enough to make an offended sound in my direction, then grabbed his ankle again.“He disagrees with your assessment,” Elena said.“He frequently does.”Four months had turned the tiny baby I had once been afraid to hold without checking the position of his head into a heavier, louder boy who had opinions about everything from bathwater to the speed at which his bottle arrived.He was healthy.Dr. Bennett had stopped prefacing every appointment with discussions about corrected age and weight concerns. Lucas was still smaller than some babies his age, although his growth remained steady, his lungs were strong, and he had recently developed a habit of waking us before sunrise simply because he could.Our nanny, Marg

ELENA “Your son has decided he doesn't want to wear shoes to our wedding,” Damian said from the doorway. I turned away from the mirror and found him holding Lucas against his hip, one tiny leather shoe in his hand. “He was wearing both when Margaret brought him upstairs.” “He removed one in the hallway and threw the other at Ethan.” I laughed as Lucas reached for the flowers on my dressing table. “Give him to me. Perhaps he'll cooperate with his mother.” “I wouldn't count on that. He spent the last ten minutes trying to eat my cufflinks.” Damian brought him over, and Lucas immediately reached for my necklace. At fourteen months old, our son had become an enthusiastic explorer of anything within reach. He had recently learned to walk, although he still preferred crawling whenever speed mattered. “Lucas Williams Cross, your father and I would appreciate a little cooperation today,” I told him. He answered by pulling at my necklace. “That's precisely what he told me downstair