Page 62 of One Sweet Lie

“Miss Hawthorne…” He clenched his jaw.

“Yes?”

“You’re fucking fired.” He took out his wallet and quickly flipped off hundred dollar bills like they were nothing to him. Then he held them for me.

“I included a few extra hundred, since you may need a day or two to look for another job,” he said. “You’re very welcome.”

“Fuck you.” I didn’t take them. “Save it for all the therapy your kids will need in the future.”

I turned away and stormed into the hall. Refusing to let a single tear fall, I didn’t bother waiting for the elevator.

I ran down flight after flight of the emergency steps, vowing never to come back.

TWENTY-SEVEN

PIERCE

Islid Harlow’s payment into an envelope and made a mental note to have it delivered later.

Picking up my phone, I dialed Jerry.

“Yes, sir?” he answered.

“Can you give Miss Hawthorne one final ride home, please?” I looked out my window. “She should be arriving at the lobby any second now.”

“Miss Hawthorne just told me to go fuck myself, sir.”

“Come again?”

“She suggested that I come upstairs to do the same to you once I’m finished, so I can finally remove the stick from your ass.” He cleared his throat. “What time would you like me to assist you with that today?”

I hung up.

Don’t think about her for another second, Pierce. Just let her go. Once and for all, let her go.

Following soft snores, I walked to the twins’ bedroom, amazed that she-who-I-refused-to-name managed to get them into a comfortable sleeping routine. Their new nanny—whoever she would be—could easily pick up right where she left off.

I wanted someone withthreedecades of childcare experience, and I’d make an exception if she were married. That would actually fit my lifestyle better, and I’d allow her family to live in one of my other suites.

I wanted someone who never wanted to leave the condo outside of picking up and dropping off Olivia, someone who didn’t push my buttons about everything,and most importantly, someone I would never think about during my work day.

I sat on the chair across from the cribs and checked my email.

“Hey, Uncle Brooks.” Olivia plopped onto the mini sofa.

“Reading some updates before dinner.”

“When you get done, can you remind Miss Hawthorne to wear all-black for my poetry show on Thursday? I don’t want her to forget.”

“Miss Hawthorne doesn’t work here anymore. You’ll have a new nanny by then.”

“What?” She sat up. “Why?”

“Because she quit.”

“What do you mean?”

“She decided that she didn’t want to be your nanny anymore.”

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