Page 89 of Worst Nanny Ever
And yet, here they are anyway, making a spectacle. A few minutes ago, one of them threw her bra at me. It skidded across my arm before landing on my cymbal.
I picked it up with my drumstick and made a show oftwirling it around before throwing it back into the crowd, but my pulse was pounding in my ears.
Worse: I jacked up my back last night when Hannah and I fell, so I’m in mental and physical pain.
I don’t like this.
I don’t like it one bit.
Especially since I’ve seen plenty of cameras in the crowd, and I know this will end up all over social media. The more posts there are, the more likely it is that Lilah will see them.
My custody of my kid could be threatened by a bunch of grown women dressed in skimpy sailor dresses in November.
More sweat drips down my hair, plastering it to my head as Rob sings “Hot Honey.”
Neither he nor Bix seem too bothered by the sailor crew, but then, these women aren’t here for them. They came for me. To watch me. To catcall me. To photograph me.
This is hell, but maybe I deserve a place in it for what I did to Hannah last night.
I couldn’t sleep last night, tossing and turning as I thought about the way she’d felt and tasted. I smelled her on my pillow, onmyself, because I couldn’t bear to take a shower and wash off the scent of her.
So after a while I got out of bed, poured myself a drink, and stayed awake, stewing in my dissatisfaction with myself.
I’ve never met someone who was so afraid to live.
Hannah’s right.
I’m a fucking coward.
I didn’t tell her the whole truth last night.
When I first met her, I stayed away because I sensed she could destroy my world the way Lilah had, but it hadn’t taken me long to realize it needed to be destroyed.
I crave Hannah’s chaos.
Before Ollie and Hannah came along, my house was coldand clinical, neat and organized but about as exciting as a museum honoring wallpaper.
For so long, I’d kept my world controlled and predictable, a world that couldn’t break me. I would never again have to feel the way I did when my father pushed me in front of those producers, or when Lilah sat down on Roland’s lap in front of me, twenty-four hours after telling me she loved me. I’d never have to depend on anyone other than myself.
But that life was lonely, and I don’t want it anymore. Hannah made my world come alive again, and now I can barely turn a corner without being surprised by something.
Even if nothing else ever happens between Hannah and me, a man shouldn’t be afraid of the truth.
I don’t just crave Hannah’s chaos—I need it.
I needher.
“Row, row, row your boat!”one of the women sings, her scratchy, off-pitch voice warring with Rob’s deep baritone.
One of the younger women shouts, “You can row my boat anytime, Ships Junior!”
I miss my mark, screwing up the song.
“Can it!” someone hollers at them.
There’s a sudden shift in the crowd, and I watch as the Ships ladies are swallowed by another group pushing their way to the front, one of whom turns directly to me and gives me a smart salute.Alice.
She’s dressed in regular clothing, no signs ofShipsparaphernalia.
