A/N: Hey everyone! Just a quick note here. When I started this story, I wasn't sure about Michael's birthday. On all the sites I checked, it was never listed, and, for some reason, I had a gut feeling that it was December. If I'm wrong, it's too late, because I went with it, and, for this story, at least, the little boy was born during that month. I'm actually not sure what his birthday is. LOL If you know, for curiosity sake, tell me, okay? Thanks for your patience, and enjoy the chapter!

Charlynn

Chapter Fourteen

"Is this seat taken?"

Elizabeth glanced around in an attempt to figure out who the student beside her was addressing. Yes, there was an empty desk beside her, but that seemed to be customary. No one, apparently, felt comfortable enough to sit beside the girl who had a bodyguard with her everywhere she went. Normally, that was alright with the young nanny, for most professors allowed Francis to sit beside her, and, so, she always had a friend by her side, but the professor in her course on the history of organized crime refused to allow her guard access to a desk and relegated him to the back corner of the room. To make matters worse, they had been running late that morning, so she had missed her opportunity to sit by the door and was now smack dab in the center of the entire classroom.

"Excuse me." It was the voice again, she realized without glancing towards the woman who was talking, and, just like before, she went on ignoring the person. Whoever the girl was trying to talk to though, they were surely rude. "You're Elizabeth, right?"

This caught the brunette's attention. "Are you talking to me," she asked, turning to face the other woman.

"Yes," the stranger answered, laughing softly. "The professor assigned us to work together, and I was wondering if I could sit down in that empty desk beside you."

Shrugging the art student responded, "sure. I just…sorry, most people don't talk to me around here."

"I think it has something to do with the muscle. He's a little intimidating."

"Well, then he's doing his job, but, between you and me," Elizabeth confided, "he's really sweet – wouldn't hurt a fly even if it tried to bite him."

The stranger narrowed her eyes in confusion. "But he wears a gun all the time."

"It's just a precaution," the petite nanny dismissed. "I've only seen him use it a handful of times." She laughed when the other woman blanched considerably. "I'm just joking. He never pulls his weapon out when I'm around. Anyway, this assignment," she changed the subject deliberately, knowing she needed to guide them back to a safer topic, "what's it all about. I'm afraid I was a little distracted and wasn't paying much attention to what the professor said."

"Essentially, each group has been assigned a time period in history, and it's out responsibility to research it, find out all the information we possibly can that's related to the course, and then present it to the class."

"So basically," Elizabeth rolled her eyes in exasperation, "we're doing the professor's job for him. Typical."

"We were assigned the latest time period – from 1980 until present day, and my name is Carrie," the stranger revealed holding her hand out to greet Elizabeth. While the two women shook hands, Carrie continued. "So what was so distracting that you couldn't focus earlier?"

"Halloween costumes," the brunette disclosed. "I'm trying to come up with something original for us but still something that I can make on my own."

"For you and your boyfriend?"

"How did you know…?"

"This is not meant to be rude, Elizabeth," her partner warned her, "but everyone knows that you have a boyfriend. Hell, you're probably the most notorious couple in the whole town. If I wanted to, I could read about you and Mr. Morgan in the gossip columns everyday."

"Wow, this town is really sad if we're the most entertaining story going. However," she corrected the stranger, "the costumes are for me, my boyfriend's son, and whichever guard will be going out with us on Halloween…although they don't know yet that they're dressing up. It's my little surprise for them."

"I'd be willing to listen to your ideas while we look through the textbook gathering the little information it provides us with," the other woman offered with a kind smile.

"I really don't know what I want to do yet," the artist answered. "All I do know is that I want us to be themed. I know, I know, it's rather silly and juvenile, but I don't care."

"Maybe I could help you think of ideas," Carrie offered generously. "How old is boyfriend's son?"

"Ten months."

"And what kind of things does he like? What does he show interest in?"

"He loves to be read to," Elizabeth shared. "We're always reading him travel books."

The other woman smiled and regarded her closely. "That seems a little…strange."

But the nanny simply shrugged. "Perhaps unconventional, but, if he likes them, then they works for me. And, hey, you never know – perhaps he's learning something from the books."

Wanting more information, the stranger pressed. "What else does he like?"

"Michael loves the water and anything that has to do with it. When he's fussy, Jason will hold him up to the window so he can look out and watch the harbor, and, when it's nice out, we take him for walks along the docks. He likes going to the park and being pushed in the baby swings, he likes taking baths, especially in the kitchen sink, and he's pretty obsessed with jungle animals at this point, but that's probably because of all the travel books."

"You really seem to care for this little boy a lot," Carrie pointed out. "How long have you been dating his dad? Is the little boy's mom in the picture."

Suddenly, Elizabeth paused, taking note of how many questions her partner was asking her. Perhaps it was because she was on edge. The anonymous phone calls had continued, but, instead of saying anything, whoever was watching them would simply hang up the phone after several seconds of listening to either she or Jason demand answers. Or maybe it was because after two months of classes and being left alone, this stranger had approached her and instantly started to inquire about her life. And, yet, it might just have been because she felt unsettled without Francis by her side. After all, he was her safety net when she was at school, but, whatever the reason, she felt on edge and slightly suspicious of her partner.

"I'm sorry," the other woman interrupted her thoughts. "I'm being rude. Your relationship with your boyfriend is none of my business, and I can tell that my questions make you feel uneasy. I guess I'm just trying to live vicariously through you. It's what happens," she added with a wry smile, "when you're hopelessly single."

"I'm really not used to people asking me about my life," Elizabeth explained her hesitancy, "well, besides my Gram, but I'm sure you didn't mean anything by it. It was just weird. For months, no one would sit by me, let alone attempt to have a conversation with me, and then, bam, here you are asking me some very personal questions."

"You always seem unapproachable," the stranger admitted, shrugging her shoulders. "It's not that no one wants to get to know you; we're just scared to."

"The whole bodyguard thing again?"

"Well, there is that," Carrie acknowledged, "but it's also the vibe you give off, too. You sit in the back of the room, usually buried in some notebook, and you always look like you're being tortured, like you can't wait to escape the classroom."

"I must admit that school's not as appealing as it once was. When you have people waiting for you at home," the nanny shared, "socializing with other students is really not important any longer. Plus, because the professor won't let my guard sit with me, I can't stand the guy, so I always dread coming to this class."

"Don't take it personally," the other student told her. "I heard from another student who's taken his classes in the past that he once kicked a lady out on a test day for bringing her daughter with her when the little girl was sick and she didn't want to leave her alone. But we're getting off topic," she changed conversational tracks rather quickly. "Aren't we supposed to be talking about costume ideas?"

"We are," Elizabeth agreed with a small smile. "Okay," she admitted, "I did have one idea. Remember how I told you that Michael likes boats? Well, I was thinking that I'd dress him up as either a pirate or a sea captain, and then I'd go as a mermaid."

"But how are you going to walk with a baby in your arms?"

"Exactly what I thought," the youthful artist agreed. "So I nixed that idea. Now I'm trying to think of something that will embarrass the guard who goes with us, and, once I think of his costume, I'll get the idea for mine and Michael's from it."

"You could always do something where the guard would be in drag," Carrie suggested.

"I must admit that it would be fun to put makeup on one of them," Elizabeth agreed, giggling, "and the pictures I could take when they were finished would be excellent future blackmail material."

From that point on, the class period progressed quickly for both women. They worked, talked, and brainstormed about various costumes that would have the potential to totally emasculate a man. By the time they were dismissed, not only had they divided up the work they would need to finish for the assignment, but the diminutive art student felt as if she might have just made her first friend. Plus, she couldn't wait to introduce her to Francis. Her partner claimed to be a serial single, and, in Elizabeth's opinion, there was not a nicer guy in the world than Francis. Perhaps she could play matchmaker for them.

Walking out into the hallway, she looked ahead of the rush of students for her guard who always slipped out of the class five minutes early to bring the car around for her on days where there was bad weather. Since it was raining jaguars and hyenas that morning, they had agreed before her final class of the day that the late October weather was perfect for VIP pickup. Spotting the wet older man, she waved to him in order to attract his attention.

"Francis, Francis," the nanny called out, a wide, excited smile on her face. "Hurry up! There's someone I want you to meet."

"Is it the woman you were talking to during class," he asked her as he came up to her side. "From where I was banished into the back corner, all I could make out about your partner was that it was a she."

"Yeah, her name's Carrie. Carrie," Elizabeth turned around to look at the other student, "I'd like you to meet Francis Donovan. Some people call him Frannie or Fannie when he's too drunk to realize what they're saying…"

"I'm going to kill O'Brien for that one," the blonde haired man spit out, too distracted by his charge's revelation to pay attention to anything else she was saying.

"She's gone."

"What?" Snapping out of his trance, the bodyguard regarded her closely. "Your friend left already? But I thought you were going to introduce us?"

"I was," the artist assured him, rolling her eyes. "I know you too well and knew that you would want to meet her so you could get her full name for a background check."

"There's no such thing as being too precautious."

"So you keep telling me, Donovan," Elizabeth quipped, moving towards her guard's side and walking in the direction of the exit with him, an umbrella in the always steady and dependable Francis' left hand. "I guess she couldn't wait around. Maybe she had another class to get to."

"That's probably it," the older gentleman attempted to cheer her up. "Besides, you can just introduce us the next time. "Tell me about her though. What's she like?"

"Well, she's friendly, seems to enjoy listening to me talk."

"That's a good thing, because I think we all know how much you enjoy flapping that well-exercised jaw of yours."

"Haha, aren't we the regular stand up," Elizabeth teased her friend. "I thought you left the comedy portion of your traveling show to Johnny?"

"Who do you think taught him everything he knows," Francis returned her banter, earning himself a wide smile from the younger woman. "What does she look like…this, what did you call her, Carrie?"

"You know," the nanny tilted her head in thought, "I really can't remember. "I mean, I know that she wasn't ugly or anything, but I can't quite say that she was pretty either. Her hair was a light brown, I think, and her eyes were rather nondescript. I guess she's just one of those people who have looks that sort of bleed into the background, you know, the ones that just blend in wherever they go."

"Like ghosts," the guard commented, abruptly serious. "She didn't have one defining feature, nothing to remember her by, not even an unforgettable tone to her voice or strange speech pattern?"

"No," Elizabeth realized, shaking her head negatively. "She was just ordinary. There was nothing remarkable about her. That's sad, isn't it?"

"I guess you could look at it that way," Francis agreed with her. "But it's also a trait that could be handy if you were ever trying to hide from someone."

"You're too mistrustful, Donovan, always looking for trouble where it doesn't exist."

He wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders and pulled her in for a friendly hug. "When it comes to you, of course I am. You're not just my job, Squirt; you're my friend, my family."

"I feel the same way about you, too."

"Plus," the blonde added in a mock serious tone, "have you ever seen your boyfriend mad before? There's no way I'm doing anything to his precious girlfriend. Maybe it's just me, but I'd prefer to keep all my appendages in working order."

"Way to ruin a moment," Elizabeth joked affectionately. "Speaking of my boyfriend though, maybe we should get home. After all, I have Halloween costumes to make. Do you have any requests, anything you'd like to see Max or Johnny dressed up as?"

"I might have a few ideas," he winked at her. "Come on," he urged, "I'll tell you about them in the car."

"Well, don't you just look amazing," Bobbie greeted Elizabeth later that week at the Halloween party she was hosting. "Let me tell you how jealous I am of your body. I wish I could wear costumes like that."

"Are you kidding me? If you didn't make it a point to tell everyone here that Michael was your grandson, no one would believe you had a daughter old enough to have a child of her own."

The nurse laughed. "You are now officially my favorite guest. Is there anything I can get you? Have you had anything to eat yet?"

"Actually," the brunette winced, "I figured you'd only have candy, and, though I do love chocolate more than any sane person should, I know better than to make a meal out of it, so I ate before I left home. In fact, if you don't mind, we might skip out early. Michael's really too young to realize what's going on, and I wanted to get him home early enough for Jason to see his costume."

"Jason didn't help you get him ready?"

"He had some business to take care of tonight. That's actually why Max isn't here with us," the nanny shared. "He was scheduled to be our guard this evening, but I prefer for Jason to have the best man available."

Bobbie smiled knowingly, not needing any more information to understand what the younger woman meant. "I was actually surprised that Francis wasn't here tonight with you. Isn't he your personal guard?"

"He is, but he worked his shift during the day, and he needs to be off every once in a while to have some fun, too. In fact, I think he and Johnny were going out tonight."

"Bar crawling for their own version of trick or treat?"

"I don't ask questions," Elizabeth stated, "but, unfortunately, that won't prevent them from sharing. By this time tomorrow night, I'll know more about their personal lives than I ever wanted to."

"You'll just have to return the favor," the medical professional advised, winking at the younger woman. Changing the subject, she asked, "so, tell me, how did you come with Michael's costume? I think he's the first camel I've ever seen."

The artist laughed at the question. "To be honest, I was having the hardest time coming up with ideas. I wanted the three of us to be themed, the guard, Michael, and myself, but, because I got assigned one of the men I don't know as well, I decided to let them off the hook, but that still left us without costumes. As you can see though," she motioned towards the baby in her arms, "because he's teething, he's slobbering like crazy, and, as soon as I thought of slobbering, I thought of how a camel spits on people, and I figured why not go with it, especially since Michael loves animals so much. From there, I thought of dressing up as a belly dancer, and," she held out her free arm, gesturing to show off their appearances, "here we are."

"Well, it's adorable," Bobbie complimented her. "Make sure you let me take a picture of you before you leave, because I have to add this to the scrap book I'm making of my grandson."

"Why don't we go and take it now," the brown haired, blue eyed woman suggested. "If we don't, this little guy might be asleep the next time you have a free moment."

"Alright, stay right here," the nurse instructed her, "and I'll be right back with the camera."

As Elizabeth waited, she sighed, glad that she would be returning home soon. Although it was important for her to give Michael as normal of a childhood as possible, allowing him to do all the things children should experience, on the nights when they were away from the penthouse, she missed their quiet, family evenings with Jason. And, truth be told, sometimes the opinionated and overly friendly redhead made her feel suffocated when she spent time with her. What exactly Bobbie did, Elizabeth wasn't sure, but there was something about the older woman that made her feel uncomfortable. Perhaps it was simply because she was Michael's grandmother, Carly's mother. After all, if the other woman would ever return to town, where would the nurse's loyalty lie – with the person who was best for her grandson, Jason, or with her daughter?

Shoving aside her darker thoughts, the youthful nanny smiled for the camera, proudly displaying the little boy in her arms and their costumes in the picture. Just a few more fake grins and she'd be home where all the phony pretenses could be dropped, and that was something Elizabeth always looked forward to.

Jason moved around his bedroom quietly. Unaware that his girlfriend was still very much awake and waiting up for him, he quickly changed out of his clothes, brushed his teeth, and then climbed into bed, eager to pull Elizabeth's body tightly to his before letting his own tired form relax, but, just as he reached for her, she turned over, smiled up at him, and lifted her arms to welcome him into her own embrace.

"Sorry I'm late. The meeting ran over and…"

"Ssh," she ordered, pressing a single finger against his still open lips. "I understand. You don't have to explain, and, don't worry. I took so many pictures of Michael, you'll feel as if you were here with us while he was getting ready."

"And you?"

With a wrinkled brow belying her confusion, the brunette asked, "me what?"

"Did you get plenty of pictures of you in your costume, too?"

"There are a few, but I did something better than take pictures." With a mischievous gleam in her eyes, Elizabeth revealed, "I made the costume, so, anytime you want a private viewing, all you have to do is ask."

He laughed. "I'd take you up on that offer right now if you weren't already wearing one of my t-shirts…and only one of my t-shirts."

"Do you mind," she asked, holding the grey material away from her chest. "They smell like you, and, since you weren't home yet, it was a way for me to have you here."

"Wear it anytime you want," the mob boss told her sincerely. "In fact, I kind of like it," he divulged, slipping his hands up the back of the loose shirt and letting his palms cup the her bare thighs.

"Alright, I can already see where this is heading, and I definitely don't have any objections, but…can you hold off for about five minutes? There's something I want to talk to you about."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong," Elizabeth was quick to reassure him. "Francis said something to me earlier this week that got me thinking." Noticing that she had captured her boyfriend's attention, the art student pressed on. "He told me that I'm not just his job, that I'm his friend, his family, and it made me think about my own job." Taking a deep breath, she continued, "so I'm giving you my two week's notice."

"What," he asked, flabbergasted. Sitting up in bed, Jason removed his hands from her body and stared at her as if she had gone insane. "But you said nothing was wrong?"

"Everything is wonderful, and maybe that's why I need to do this." Taking in his confused expression, she sighed. "I'm not saying this the right way." Tucking an errant lock of hair behind the delicate shell of her ear, she explained. "What Francis said made me think about my relationship with Michael. You employ me to be his nanny…"

"And you're great at it," the blonde haired, worried man sitting across from her interrupted to say.

"Thank you," the artist said sincerely, "but that is not going to change my decision. To me, Michael is not a job; he's not my charge. I've been with your son, taking care of him, playing with him, waking up with and putting him to bed every night for nine months of his life, loving him." She glanced away, unexpectedly embarrassed about what she was going to admit. "He's not just the little boy I take care of because you pay me to, and he's not the little boy I love because he's your son. To me, Michael couldn't feel any more like my own child even if I had given birth to him myself. And I know that I'm not his mother," Elizabeth rushed ahead before Jason could say anything, "and I'd never tell him that I was; I wouldn't lie to him, but that doesn't stop me from caring for him the same way a mother would. And, because of that reason, I can't let you pay me to do something I would beg to do for free."

"But what about school," Jason asked her. She was thankful that he wasn't arguing with her announcement and that he didn't seem offended or annoyed by what she had said. "You know that I would gladly help you pay for it, just as I know you would never allow me to pay for your college education for you. So, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to get another job. It won't pay as much, and I'll hate it because I'll have to leave Michael some of the time, but this is just something I have to do. It's what feels right."

He smirked, settling back down into the bed and pulling her close against him, kissing the top of her brow. "I can tell that you've already made up your mind, so I won't fight you on this, but, just know, we're not letting you leave. You're still going to live here."

"You'll have no arguments about that from me."

"Good." For a few seconds, they were both silent as they thought about the changes that were about to come to their relationship. "And, so we're straight on a few other things, Michael loves you, too, just like his Dad does." With wide eyes, Elizabeth twisted around to peer up at her boyfriend's smug face. "However, that doesn't mean you're getting out of hiring the new nanny. I already had to go through hell to find you. Now that you're quitting, you're last assignment is to find your replacement."

"You're a brat," she snapped, glaring at him playfully, "and, for that, I'm going to hire a really hot manny, just to torture you."

"Johnny and the boys should have fun with that."

She punched his chest. "You're not even jealous, are you?"

"Nope," Jason shared confidently, "because I know that you love me, too."

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to," he told her, sliding them both down so that they were laying on the bed, his body hovering over hers. "I've known for a long time. I can see it when you look at me."

"Alright, fine," the artist grumbled, rolling her eyes, "I won't hire a manny, but I might try to find someone to set O'Brien up with. After all, every cute, alleged mobster needs his very own Mary Poppins."

"First of all, Johnny is not cute," he corrected her, "and, secondly, he's only a bodyguard for an alleged mobster. Don't inflate his already big ego."

Elizabeth giggled, wrapping her arms securely around his neck and pulling him down for a slow, seductive, delicious kiss. "And that's why I love you," she revealed after separating from their embrace.

"Why, because I'm always right?"

"You are not always right," she shrieked, good-naturedly biting his throat as a form of punishment. Unfortunately for her authority, the gesture turned out to be more like foreplay. "I love you because not only do you make me laugh, but you don't discourage me from playing matchmaker. Do you know how rare of a quality that is to find in a guy?"

"Not really," the blonde Mafioso answered, "but I've also never really looked."

"That's a good thing."

He chuckled, nuzzling her chest covered in nothing but his thin t-shirt. "Alright, I'll accept your two week's notice." After several quiet moments, he locked gazes with her, suddenly serious, and whispered, "happy birthday, Elizabeth."

"Trick or treat, Jason" the brunette returned, lifting her hips to gently rock against his. It was definitely time for them to celebrate, and they both knew exactly how and where they wanted to do so – at home in bed with each other making love. Could a girl ask for anything more for her birthday?