Page 16 of Worst Nanny Ever
“What are you doing?” he asks, yawning. He says it with such perfect innocence, I feel a lurch in my heart. A need to protect him.
I lift up the book, showing it to him. “Learning how to be a single dad.” I don’t want to lie to him, and it’s a better explanation than saying I was nosy about his mystery-wrapped-in-an-enigma father, who plays the drums with complete abandon but is so set in his ways.
“Can you teach Travis?” he asks, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
I laugh and set the book down, then join him in the doorway, resting my hand on his little head. “If he can teach me how to be a nanny, we’ll call it an even trade.”
CHAPTER FIVE
TRAVIS
Text conversation with Hannah
If he won’t sleep, he can have some chamomile tea.
Oh, he’s fine. I let him smoke a joint, and he was out like a light.
I know you’re joking. But can you just confirm for my anxiety that you’re joking?
Oh, Travis. You’re the wind beneath my wings.
Two minutes later…
Fine. Confirming: it was indeed a joke. He got out of bed, so I made him some hot chocolate, and he read that boring science book until he conked out for real.
“That was banging,” says Bixby, the bassist in our band, as we pack up our equipment.
I roll my eyes. “You sound like one of our kids at The Missing Beat.”
“Heisa child,” Rob teases, ruffling Bixby’s hair, then making a face as he pulls his hand away because we’re all covered in sweat. Bixby’s the youngest of us, at twenty-nine.
“Yes, the couple of years of experience you have on me made all the difference,” Bixby says. “But come on, itwasbanging. One of our best sets in a while.” He waggles his brows at Rob. “You know it, front man. You don’t get panties thrown at you on just any old night.”
Rob snorts. “Maybe she was throwing them at you, but she had bad aim.”
He’s making jokes, but I can tell from the zen look on his face that he feels it too. Bixby’s right. We were perfectly in sync tonight—all for one and one for all, the way Rob and I tell the kids at The Missing Beat to play when they’re having trouble meshing. It’s been a while since we’ve sounded so good.
Small wonder, since I’ve been more present tonight than I’ve been over the last several weeks. Even though I’m desperately worried about what Ollie and Hannah might be getting up to, I know he must at least be happy.
It makes a difference, surprisingly.
“It was a good set,” I agree, “but something feels a bit off about this place tonight, doesn’t it?”
“Ah, here we go,” Bix says, already laughing. “Travis and his endless vibe checks.”
“Yeah, but he’s usually right,” Rob says, nodding to me before glancing around, his eyes unsurprisingly settling on Sophie, who’s standing with Briar.
Bixby huffs a laugh. “Yup, he’s really good at reading a room. That’s why he keeps getting back together with Karen, when everyone who’s met them knows the violin music started playing on their personalTitanicyears ago.”
“Oh, come on,” I say. “That’s over for good this time.”
He shakes his head. “Is that why she comes to all of our shows? Hell, she was here up until fifteen minutes ago. That woman’s like a dandelion. Give her a bit of sun and water, and she keeps popping up.”
“Don’t jinx us,” Rob says, rubbing the penny he wears around his neck—something to do with an in-joke he has with Sophie.
Rolling my eyes, I say, “She just likes the music. I haven’t even talked to her for weeks. Maybe months.”
I scan the area, trying to put my finger on what I’m sensing….
