JOHN & KATIE

KATIE.

The icy wind slapped me across the face the moment I stepped outside, stealing the warmth from my lungs. I shivered and pulled my scarf higher over my mouth, silently questioning—for what had to be the hundredth time—what kind of person willingly traded the warm Caribbean sunshine for a New York winter.

Me. I am Katie Summers

Back home in Saint Lucia, February meant crystal-clear beaches, salty ocean breezes, and sunshine that kissed your skin from sunrise to sunset. Here, it meant thirty-two-degree mornings, biting winds that found every gap in your clothes, and praying your fingers didn’t freeze before you reached the subway.

I tugged my black down jacket tighter around me and picked up my pace. Beneath it, I wore a long-sleeved shirt, a thick sweater, black jeans, and leather boots. Even dressed like I was preparing to climb a mountain, the cold still managed to seep into my bones.

Living in the Bronx meant my weekdays always started before sunrise. Every morning I caught the No. 2 train, transferred to the No. 5, and joined thousands of other New Yorkers making their daily pilgrimage into Manhattan.

By the time I reached the station, the platform was already overflowing with commuters. Some cradled oversized coffee cups as if they were life preservers. Others stared blankly at their phones, while a few bounced impatiently on their heels, desperate for the train to arrive.

A gust of icy air rushed through just before the familiar screech of metal echoed off the walls.

Finally.

The train rolled into the station, and the peaceful silence disappeared instantly.

The doors slid open, and the crowd surged forward as one. There was no such thing as personal space during rush hour. Elbows bumped, backpacks collided, and everyone squeezed through the narrow doors, determined not to be left behind.

No one expected a seat.

Getting on the train was victory enough.

I found a tiny patch of floor near one of the poles and wrapped my gloved hand around it before someone else could claim it. Around me, strangers swayed shoulder to shoulder as the train lurched forward, each of us lost in our own thoughts while sharing the same overcrowded ride.

Thankfully, I always left home ridiculously early. Missing one train could throw off your entire morning, and I had learned that lesson the hard way more than once.

Such was life in New York City.

The city never slowed down. It moved with relentless determination, dragging everyone along with it whether they were ready or not.

Some days I loved its energy.

Other days, I missed home so much it made my chest ache.

I missed hearing the waves instead of subway brakes.

I missed warm evenings instead of frozen sidewalks.

Almost an hour later, I stepped onto the streets of Manhattan. The buildings stretched endlessly toward the gray morning sky while streams of people hurried past me, each with somewhere to be.

I smiled to myself.

As exhausting as this city could be, there was something exciting about knowing that every day held the possibility of something new.

I made my way to the apartment building where I worked and stepped inside, grateful to escape the bitter wind.

The warmth wrapped around me instantly.

I rode the elevator to the fifth floor and glanced at my watch as the doors parted.

7:45 a.m.

Perfect.

Fifteen minutes early.

I smoothed the front of my jacket, took a quiet breath, and walked toward the apartment door.

Routine was comforting.

Every morning was the same.

At least, that’s what I believed as I reached for the doorbell.

The apartment was unusually quiet, the kind of peaceful silence that only existed before a one-year-old decided it was time to conquer the world.

Smiling to myself, I quietly pushed open the nursery door.

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Sara was still fast asleep in her crib, clutching her favorite stuffed bunny against her tiny chest. A few wisps of dark hair had escaped from her little ponytail, and one chubby foot had somehow found its way outside the blanket.

My heart melted.

Every morning, I told myself I wouldn’t stand there staring at her like a lovestruck fool.

Every morning, I failed.

I walked over to her crib and gently brushed a curl away from her forehead.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” I whispered. “Time to wake up. I have a wonderful day planned for us.”

She let out the sweetest little sigh and stretched both arms above her head. Then she rubbed her sleepy eyes with tiny fists before blinking up at me.

The moment she recognized me, her entire face lit up.

A smile spread from ear to ear, and she reached both little arms toward me.

Well... there went my heart.

I lifted her into my arms, and she buried her face against my neck, wrapping me in the biggest hug her tiny body could manage.

“Good morning,” I said, kissing the top of her head. “I love you.”

She leaned back just enough to look at me.

“I... luv... ooo.”

The words were barely understandable, but they were perfect.

I laughed, and she giggled right along with me, as though she knew she’d made my entire morning.

Sara wasn’t my daughter, but some days it certainly felt like she had adopted me.

Her parents had entrusted me with the most precious person in their lives, and I never took that responsibility for granted.

She had become my little ray of sunshine.

No matter how exhausting the subway ride had been or how much I missed home, one smile from Sara chased every worry away.

After breakfast, I bundled her into her puffy pink coat, tiny mittens, and knitted hat.

“Ready for another adventure?” I asked.

She clapped her hands enthusiastically.

Every day was an adventure with Sara.

Some mornings we spent hours at the park, where she laughed every time the pigeons scattered as she toddled toward them. Twice a week we attended Mommy and Me classes, where she loved dancing far more than sitting still. Wednesdays were reserved for story time at the library, and on our quieter days, I met up with the other nannies so the children could play together.

Between caring for Sara and keeping up with our busy schedule, there wasn’t much time left for a social life.

Meeting Mr. Right?

That seemed about as likely as New York having a tropical winter.

Around lunchtime, I met the other nannies at our favorite spot in the park while the little ones happily played in the sandbox.

“You wouldn’t believe what the family did yesterday,” Ava groaned, shaking her head.

Liv laughed. “Try me.”

“She walked right past me this morning without even saying good morning. Then she left her breakfast dishes in the sink because apparently she thinks I’m the maid too.”

I frowned.

“Seriously?”

Ava nodded.

“And last week she actually told me I was eating too much of their food.”

Our mouths fell open.

“You’re kidding,” I said.

“I wish I was.”

Mia sighed dramatically.

“That reminds me. When I got to work this morning, there was a mountain of laundry waiting for me. My employer expects every single piece washed, dried, folded, and put away before she gets home tonight.”

Rose rolled her eyes.

“At least yours is only laundry. Mine inspects every dish after I wash it. If she finds one tiny water spot, she makes me wash the entire sink full again.”

“But don’t they have a dishwasher?” I asked.

“They do,” Rose replied with a laugh that sounded more exhausted than amused. “Apparently it’s only there for decoration.”

We all laughed, although there wasn’t much humor in their stories.

The conversation grew quieter after that.

Most of the girls stayed because they had no choice. Back home, parents, siblings, and children depended on the money they sent every month. Walking away from a bad employer wasn’t an option when your family relied on you.

Susan and I exchanged a glance. Neither of us knew what to say. Our employers treated us with kindness, while our friends carried burdens we couldn’t begin to understand.

I wished there were something we could do to make their lives easier.

Listening to them always reminded me how fortunate I was.

My employers treated me with kindness and respect. They trusted me completely with Sara and never made me feel like I was “just the nanny.”

In fact, after my very first month, they surprised me with a bonus simply to thank me for taking good care of her.

Kindness like that wasn’t something I took for granted.

I looked across the playground just in time to see Sara wobbling toward me with her stuffed bunny dragging along the ground behind her.

The moment she spotted me, her face lit up.

“Mama...” she squealed before correcting herself the best she could.

“Katie!”

My heart squeezed.

I scooped her into my arms, laughing as she planted a slobbery kiss on my cheek.

If someone had told me a year ago that leaving my family and my beautiful island of Saint Lucia would lead me here—to this little girl who had completely stolen my heart—I never would have believed them.

Yet somehow, standing there with Sara wrapped in my arms, New York didn’t feel quite so far from home anymore.

The following morning slipped comfortably back into its familiar routine.

After breakfast, I bundled Sara into her pink coat, pulled a tiny knitted hat over her curls, and slipped little mittens onto her hands. The moment I picked up the diaper bag, she clapped excitedly.

“Ready to see your friends?” I asked.

She squealed kicking her little feet as I pushed the stroller out the door.

Ten minutes later, we met the girls downstairs as we did most morning before making our way to the park together.

As we approached the playground, something immediately caught our attention.

A man we’d never seen before was unloading boxes from the back of a small cart near the entrance. He looked to be around my age, with neatly combed dark hair, warm brown eyes, and a trimmed mustache. He moved quickly, arranging bottled drinks, bags of chips, and neatly wrapped sandwiches beneath a brightly colored umbrella.

I slowed my pace without realizing it.

“Who’s that?” Liv asked.

Before anyone could answer, Ava marched straight toward him.

We all exchanged knowing smiles.

Typical Ava.

If someone new appeared in our little corner of the park, she’d have their entire life story before lunchtime.

She stopped in front of him, folded her arms, and tilted her head.

“Who are you?”

The poor guy looked up, blinking in surprise.

“I’m... Steven.”

“Steven who?” Ava continued.

I covered my mouth to hide a laugh.

Liv nudged her shoulder.

“Ava, give the man a chance to breathe.”

“No,” Ava replied matter-of-factly. “He’s setting up shop where our children play. We need answers.”

Steven chuckled nervously.

“My name is Steven Ahmed.”

“And what exactly are you doing here?” Liv asked, smiling apologetically.

“I’m opening a snack stand.”

Mia’s eyes widened dramatically.

“So you’re a vendor?”

“That’s the plan.”

Rose grinned mischievously.

“So... are you selling curry frog sandwiches?”

For a heartbeat, Steven looked completely confused.

Then he realized she was teasing him.

His laughter joined ours, and suddenly the awkwardness disappeared.

“I don’t think I’d sell many of those.”

“I wouldn’t buy one,” Liv admitted.

“I might,” Mia said with a shrug. “Depends how hungry I am.”

We burst into laughter.

“Whatareyou selling?” Susan asked, stepping forward with genuine curiosity.

“Sandwiches, hot dogs, chips, bottled water, juice, cookies...” Steven replied, pointing to the shelves as he stocked them. “Just snacks for families at the park.”

“That actually saves us a trip,” I said.

We were thrilled that we no longer had to leave the park whenever the children wanted a snack or a drink. Since the park’s concession stand had closed months ago, Steven’s food stand was a welcome addition.

While the girls continued their playful interrogation, I couldn’t help noticing Steven stealing the occasional glance in my direction. Every time our eyes met, I smiled shyly before quickly looking away.

Finally, he smiled and asked, “What’s your name?”

“I’m Katie,” I replied.

“It’s nice to meet you, Katie.”

“You too.”

With that, we wished him luck with his new business and headed toward our usual spot near the sandbox. We lifted the children out of their strollers, spread out our blankets, and settled in while the little ones happily played together.

The morning passed quickly as we chatted and laughed. Every now and then, I glanced over to check on Sara, who was busy filling a tiny bucket with sand.

Without warning, a terrified scream shattered the peaceful morning.

“She’s choking!”

My heart stopped.

I looked at Sara first. She was safe, still happily playing in the sand. Then I turned toward Ava.

Her little girl was clutching her throat. Her tiny face had turned red as Ava desperately tried to help, panic written all over her face.

“I don’t know what to do!” Ava cried.

The others froze.

Training took over before fear had a chance to.

I rushed to Ava’s little one, quickly knelt beside her, and checked her airway.

“It’s okay,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm even though my own heart was pounding. “I’ve got her.”

I positioned my hands and performed the Heimlich maneuver.

One thrust.

Nothing.

Two thrusts.

Still nothing.

The little girl’s cries grew weaker.

Please...

On the third thrust, a small plastic toy shot out of her mouth and landed in the sand.

For a split second, no one moved.

Then she burst into tears.

The sweetest sound I’d ever heard.

Relief washed over all of us.

Ava scooped her Amber into her arms, crying as she hugged her tightly.

“Oh, thank God.”

Behind me, I heard someone exhale loudly.

Steven.

He hurried over from his stand carrying a bottle of water.

“Is she okay?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

I nodded.

“She’s going to be fine.”

He handed the bottle to Ava before looking at me with an expression I’d never seen before.

It wasn’t curiosity anymore.

It was admiration.

“That was incredible,” he said quietly.

I shook my head.

“No. I was just lucky enough to remember my training.”

Ava wrapped one arm around me and pulled me into a hug.

“No, Katie,” she said, her voice trembling. “You saved my little girl.”

The others quickly joined us.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Liv asked.

“When I first arrived in New York, the girl I was staying with suggested I take a CPR and first aid course at the local college,” I explained. “It was free, so I thought, ‘Why not?’ I never imagined I’d actually need it.”

“I think we’re all signing up now,” Rose said.

That earned a nervous laugh from everyone.

After making sure Amber was completely fine, we finally settled back onto the bench.

As I looked around at the women sitting beside me, I realized just how much they had become my family.

Susan, Ava, Liv, Rose, Mia, and I had only known each other for three months, yet it felt like we’d been friends forever.

The weeks slipped by.

Winter slowly gave way to spring, replacing icy winds with warm sunshine. Our heavy coats disappeared, the trees burst back to life, and the park became busier with each passing day.

Steven quickly became part of our daily routine.

Every morning he greeted us with a cheerful smile as we walked through the gates.

Before long, he knew everyone’s favorite snack.

Sara insisted on waving to him every single day, and he always waved back with a grin that made her giggle.

Whenever I stopped to buy a bottle of water or a snack, we’d spend a few minutes talking.

Nothing important.

Just little conversations about the weather, our families, funny things the children had done, or how business was going.

The girls noticed.

Of course they noticed.

Every time Steven smiled at me, one of them would nudge me with an elbow or wiggle their eyebrows until I rolled my eyes and laughed.

I told myself we were just being friendly.

Apparently, Steven had something else in mind.

One warm Friday afternoon, after the children had settled into the sandbox, I wandered over to his stand to buy a bottle of water.

He handed it to me but didn’t let go right away.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he said.

His smile had disappeared, replaced by nervousness.

I looked at him curiously.

“What is it?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and let out a quiet laugh.

“I’ve been trying to work up the courage for weeks.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“I was wondering...” He took a deep breath. “Would you like to go out to with me sometime?”

For a moment, I simply stared at him.

Was this handsome man really asking me out?

A smile spread across my face before I could stop it.

“I’d like that.”

The relief on his face made me laugh.

“Really?”

I nodded.

“Really.”

“Then maybe we should exchange numbers.”

As I walked away, I couldn’t stop smiling.

I looked up and saw the girls cheering.

I covered my face with my hands in embarrassment.

They had been watching the entire time.

That night, Steven called me.

I was filled with excitment and my face felt hot as I answered the phone.

We talked for hours. He asked where I was from, how old I was, how long I had been working for the family, and whether I was seeing anyone. I answered all of his questions, and before I knew it, it was midnight, and our conversation had come to an end.

The following weekend, Steven planned a picnic date in Central Park.

He had thought of everything. He packed sandwiches, chips and dip, soda, and even a blanket for us to sit on beneath the shade of a large tree.

After lunch, we visited the petting zoo, where we fed goats, sheep, ponies, rabbits, chickens, and ducks. I couldn’t stop laughing as one of the goats tried to nibble on Steven’s shirt, and he pretended to be completely offended.

It was one of the nicest days I’d had since moving to New York.

I had so much fun and discovered we had so much in common. By the end of the day, I found myself looking forward to seeing him again.

When Monday rolled around, I couldn’t wait to tell the girls all about it.

“It went really well,” I said with a smile. “Steven is such a gentleman.”

The teasing started immediately.

“I knew he liked you!” Rose laughed.

“I give it a month before he’s asking you to marry him,” Mia joked.

I rolled my eyes, unable to hide my smile.

“Oh, stop.”

Over the next week, Steven and I texted constantly.

Things were going really well.

One evening he sent me a message.

I have something special planned for us this weekend.

No matter how much I tried to get him to tell me what it was, he refused.

“It’s a surprise,” he replied.

His mysterious attitude only made me more excited, and I found myself counting down the days until the weekend.

A few days later, I stopped by his stand to buy a bottle of water before joining the girls.

As he handed it to me, our conversation drifted to family.

“My sister had a boyfriend once,” he said.

“Oh?” I replied.

“My brothers and I didn’t like him.”

“Why not?”

“We didn’t think he made enough money to take care of her.”

I frowned but stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“So we told him to stay away from her.”

“And?”

“He refused.”

Steven said it so casually that I wasn’t prepared for what came next.

“So... we tracked him down and beat him up.”

For a moment, I just stared at him.

I waited for him to laugh.

To tell me he was joking.

He didn’t.

A cold knot formed in my stomach.

What kind of person says something like that without a hint of regret?

What kind of family thinks violence is an acceptable way to solve a problem?

The man standing in front of me suddenly felt like a stranger.

I forced a weak smile, mumbled something about needing to get back to Sara, and walked away as quickly as I could.

From that day on, everything changed.

I stopped answering his phone calls.

I ignored his text messages.

Whenever I arrived at the park, I kept my eyes straight ahead and hurried past his stand without stopping.

What had once been the highlight of my morning had become the most uncomfortable part of my day.

I couldn’t believe I had agreed to go out with him.

The more I thought about what he’d told me, the more frightened I became.

Maybe I hadn’t known Steven at all.