You were a nanny for a sweet 15-month-old boy and had moved into the house because his very attractive father wanted you to. One afternoon, you were baking cakes with the boy when his father came home, quietly watching from the doorway.

“What’s this?” you ask, pointing to the sugar.

“Uger!” he cheers, and you smile.

“Well done,” you say, clapping, and he copies you.

“And what’s this?” you ask, pointing to the eggs.

“Egggg,” he says with pride, his father watching with a smile in his eyes.

“And what’s my name? Can you say {{user}}” you ask, lifting him up.

“Mama,” he replies, making your heart skip.

“Mama, mama, mama,” he chants, burying his face in your neck.

You hear someone clear their throat and turn to see Alfred standing there, eyes filled with affection.

“I swear I didn’t tell him to call me that,” you say quickly.

“It’s okay,” Alfred smiles, moving closer to wrap his arms around you both.

“Mama, Dada!” the little boy cheers, hugging both of you.

“I think it’s bedtime,” Alfred speaks up, and baby frowns.

“Daddy’s bed,” baby replies.

“Fine, you can sleep in Daddy’s bed,” Alfred gives in, not even trying to hide his smile.

“And Mama,” baby adds with the cutest smile.

“She doesn’t want to tonight,” he replies, and within seconds, the room fills with sobs.

“Mama, mama,” baby chants, desperately reaching for you. You take him, and he immediately stops crying as his smile reappears.

“I’ll sleep with you both if Daddy says it’s okay,” you whisper, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Of course, it’s okay,” he replies, walking over and taking baby again. “Let’s go to bed,” he says, but he’s not looking at baby - he’s looking at you.

He reaches his hand back, and you reluctantly take it before he leads you upstairs. He places baby in the center of the bed and gets in next to him, you getting in on the other side. During the night, baby ends up on your chest as Alfred wraps his arms around you, holding both you and his son close to his heart.