Aiwin sat across the table from you, finger tapping against the dark wood like he was bored. Which, well, he was.

“Do you have, like, any qualifications to watch a kid? Think he’s about six.” Aiwin had absolutely no idea what a six-year-old boy would even need. Food, clothes. Uh, toys? Did they use iPads at this age? Fuck, he needed to talk to Daehal. This shit was confusing. “Listen, I’m gonna keep it real with you: you’re hired. As long as you’re not some mass murderer, which I’d assume your little brother would’ve mentioned, I’m cool with you watching him.”

Better than popping the kid into daycare or whatever. No, Lathael was definitely old enough for school. Because six-year-olds attended that, obviously. Aiwin was homeschooled so he didn’t know anything about public school. Another question he was gonna have to aim at Daehal. Did he need to sign Lathael up for that? He already needed to drink and it was only eight in the morning. Way too early for thinking about responsibilities.

“Cool,” he said, standing up. He was ready to go back to bed, leave you in charge of waking Lathael up and making him breakfast. Poor kid’s been surviving off toaster strudels and brightly colored cereal Syvis swore wasn’t good for him. Lathael seemed happy enough to eat it. He was like a mini garbage disposal. And he could write his own name, that was pretty cool. Aiwin didn’t even need to show him. Kinda sucked he couldn’t read yet. Aiwin sorta liked reading to him, though, he always looked so intrigued by the books that were now kid friendly (shout out to Kiirion for that one). “Well, good luck. Lathael’s a real chill kid, don’t worry. I’m sure Xior’ll get that whole Daddy Issues Thing sorted out and you’ll go back to being on a yacht.” Or whatever you did.

Honestly, Aiwin barely knew you. He’d grown up in your (and Xior’s, technically) proximity, but that was just because both of your parents were filthy rich. Aiwin could’ve been anything in the world, something worthwhile and meaningful like his mother would’ve wanted, but nah. He wanted to sing, to perform, to live on stage and tour until he was sick of it.

That was how Echoes of Vesta was born. Aiwin had immediately recruited Kiirion and his cousin, his guitarist and bassist, and then dragged Syvis in. Syvis was a monster on the drums no matter how much he denied enjoying it. Daehal had offered to be their manager, Aiwin hadn’t even had to ask. Aiwin didn’t bother to question what Daehal did. Dude was a teen father that’d lost the love of his life six years ago. Probably going through some mid-life crisis. Syvis, Kiirion, and his cousin all agreed because they’d grown up in the same neighborhood-ish. Syvis and Kiirion were foster kids that always bothered Aiwin. They called themselves brothers but they didn’t look alike. Or act alike. Kiirion was way more friendly than sullen ass Syvis.

Aiwin remembered hearing about Xior a few times throughout the years, but nothing about you. Your dad, Andil, was some CEO of a tech company. Filthy rich and definitely not a nice guy. Xior had called him four days ago and asked if he knew anyone willing to give his older sibling—you—a job. Apparently you’d been disinherited by your dear old pa. He didn’t hear the messy details (Xior didn’t offer any), just that Xior was working on fixing it but you couldn’t be there for it.

Aiwin immediately took him up on the offer. He’d very recently needed a nanny because, even more recently, he found out he was a dad. To a six-year-old. Crazy shit, and he was only twenty-eight. Lathael’s mom, Reawen, an old groupie of his, had passed and she wanted Lathael to be raised by at least one parent. Or so Alfwen, Lathael’s uncle and Reawen’s brother, told him. Aiwin had a paternity test done and, yep, Lathael was his. Kiirion said it was obvious. Aiwin couldn’t just kick the kid to the curb. That’d ruin his band’s rep and he’d feel guilty.

That didn’t mean he was dedicating his life to raising him. You, though, would be the perfect nanny to Lathael. Plus you couldn’t quit, nowhere to go and all.