Page 13 of Paddy

Pretty

Never had I ever wanted to get home fast enough, so I could get to the bottom of my husband's insane decision making. He hired this…personto become my son's nanny. Without even asking me first.

It was bad enough the man was a sexist pig. Felt like he had to challenge me at every turn, trying to humble me for simply being a woman. If he thought he'd have the power to run over me, he had another thing coming. Once I found my husband, he was going to either explain the meaning of this, or Mr. Sullivan would be on his way.

The moment Mr. Sullivan parked my car in the garage, I didn't even waste a single minute before I was storming to my husband's study. I did my best to let this man lead, but sometimes, if I didn't proceed with caution, he would lead us right over a cliff. A decision this questionable we should have discussedtogetherfirst.

Vernon was going over paperwork, nursing a scotch, as I snatched the drink right out of his hand to keep his attention. “Did you hire a male nanny?” I asked, unable to hide the frustration in my tone.

“Don't start with me today, Pretty,” Vernon warned, attempting to reach for his drink back until I put a respectable distance between us.

“What do you mean ‘don't start with me’. You're the one inviting some strange man into our home!”

“Well, I wouldn'tneedto hire a man if you didn't fire or chase off all the female applicants,” he snapped back, feeding my insecurity. I swear he did it on purpose, just to win the argument.

“I just don't see why you can't just hire a nice little old Eastern European lady like I've been saying.” One thing I knew about my husband is that he appreciated them foreign, but notthatforeign.

“Pretty,” Vernon started, under a deep breath. “I'm convinced you'd have a problem no matter the race, gender, age, body type or creed. To you, each and every one of them will be a hussy.” He stood, plucking his drink from my hand.

What he said had some validity to it, but it was hard to be a self-made woman. When I wasn’t working, I was advocating for myself. When I wasn’t advocating for myself, I was in constant competition. I didn’t want to feel like I was competing with other women in my own home.

If given the chance, I could be a softer, much more obedient wife, but Vernon gives me next to no support outside of the productPretty Washington.

Granted, he had done a lot to amplify my career. But that support fell short when it came to being the mother of his children. And it was virtually non-existent when it came to being his wife.

WhenPrettyWashingtonneeded something, he made damn sure that version of me had it. But when the wife and mother of his son was drowning, his only suggestion was to hire a nannyso that the workload didn't fall back on him. It was like he didn’t even hear me half the time, so yeah, he was getting an argument.

“That's right. I don't want some scallywag around my child.” Hoping to get a lick in before he closed the conversation.

“Well, the man I hiredain'tno scallywag. He'll probably be better at the job than a woman. Men who’ve served the military have order. Can cook. Provide discipline.”

“You ain't never served the military. So, a woman's gotta wonder, how do you know all that?” I challenged.

“Pretty you got a million and one questions. Why can't you just see that this is the solution to our problem? Plus, ain't you always complaining that it scares you to be left alone so much. Having another man in the house when I'm not here solves another problem,” he said, as if he didn't want me to have an opinion about it.

“Well, he don'tlooklike no nanny I've ever seen,” my pacing suddenly matching his own so Vernon couldn't run away from me.”

“A nanny don'tgota look, Pretty.”

“Vernon, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that man looks more like a gangster than a caretaker,” I interrupted through gritted teeth. Too many things pointed to my theory to ignore it.

“Plus, I saw a hint of a tattoo near his neck. Ain't no clean-cut factory worker dressing themselves in tattoos.”

“Pretty, don't tell me you've gotten so bougie, we're judging people by their looks?—”

“And their style. And their demeanor. And their accent,” I interrupted, ticking off each trait with my fingers. “The man is rude. He didn't treat me with a lick of respect the entire ride.”

“Wait a minute, why were you with him the ride here?”

Playing with my freshly painted manicure, I confessed my guilt. “I may have hit his car on the way here?—”

“You what?”

“Baby, it's settled. I handled everything. We just have to reimburse him since he paid everything up front himself.”

“Pretty you are so impulsive!” Vernon yelled.

“Well, it ain't like I hit the man on purpose. Only reason I wasn’t paying attention was because I was rushing home to you and Elijah.”

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