Page 149 of Worst Nanny Ever
EPILOGUE
HANNAH
Just over a month has passed since Travis signed those papers, and oh, what a month…
Lilah took Ollie on a single outing before flitting off to Florida, where she officially joined the cast forDr. Lovin’ Boat. It’s going to film next spring, and we’ll be graced with its hot garbage nonsense in the fall. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t plan on watching every last episode with Sophie and Briar. (Travis wants no part of it, but he agrees it’s probably a good idea for one of us to keep an eye on it.)
I’ve slowly phased out of official nannying, but I still pick up Ollie after school on Fridays to go on adventures—and I stay over at their place at least three times a week. I’d be there more often, honestly, but I’m giving Travis and Ollie space to figure out their relationship. It’s been beautiful to watch. They play music together, they’ve plotted out a garden for the spring, and apparently they’re conspiring about what to get me for Christmas. I’m so proud of Travis that I’ve become one of those women who talks about her boyfriend all the time. I’d slap myself if I weren’t so happy.
The three of us went to Boston for Thanksgiving, and I introduced Travis and Ollie to Connor and my dad, who instantly asked if they wanted to make beer with him. Like, as soon as they walked through the door of my dad’s condo. All of the supplies were already sitting out too.
Travis looked like he was suffering instant and crippling constipation, so I explained that my dad was just messing with him and is willing to govery farwith a joke.
“Oh, so that’s where she gets it from,” Travis said. My dad got him a beer and clapped him on the back, and that was that. They were fast friends, which made my heart happy.
When we got home from the trip, Travis and Ollie made me dinner and then asked if I wanted to revive the Moroney Movers and Shakers with the two of them, saying my brothers and dad had all given them permission to carry the family torch.
I saidyes, obviously.
Our first performance is going to be at a Christmas market next weekend.
In addition to this very important new band gig, I just accepted a job as the daytime floor manager at Big Catch. When the woman I’m replacing quit, Eugene called me before the door hit her ass on the way out. Everyone knows the daytime shift is dull as dirt, but I love this brewery, and the hours are better for spending time with my guys. So I accepted, even though I’m wary of stepping back into my old role with Liam. He’s already in Travis’s band—temporarily, at least—and as much as I love my brother, I don’t want to slip back into codependence.
But that’s something I can worry about next week, when I start.
It’s Sunday afternoon, the day of the big holiday staff party Eugene and I have been planning for weeks, between his many dates with Mrs. Applebaum.
Speaking of Mrs. Applebaum—those two are madly in love, and I don’t at all mind taking credit for it.
The other day, when Eugene and I were power walking through The Waiting Place, something we do on purpose now, he told me he was thinking of getting a promise ring for her.
“Come on, Eugene,” I said, halting. “Promise rings are for kids who don’t know the joy of getting into each other’s pants.”
He harrumphed and told me I just didn’t get it.
I don’t, but I’m still happy for him.
Travis and I agreed that a staff party at a brewery, Christmas themed or not, is not a great place for a kid, so Ollie is staying over at Dottie’s tonight. But Travis, Liam, Sophie, Rob, Eugene, and a couple more recruits are here getting the place ready for the shindig.
Briar was supposed to help out too, but she’s late.
Briar’sneverlate.
Then again, she’s definitely going through something. She picked two Silver Star staffers to fire at the end of last month, and her father informed her that she had to do it before the holidays. She refused, and he responded by telling the staff they weren’t getting their holiday bonuses, and that Briar was to blame.
I glance at the door a fourth time as I set down another of the table decorations Sophie made—gorgeous arrangements of dried flowers in decorative gourds.
“Maybe there’s traffic,” Sophie suggests as Travis adjusts the mistletoe he hung on the lighthouse for the tenth time.
“For the love of God, Travis…” Liam mutters, which only prompts Travis to move it again, this time with a smirk on his face that almost makes me laugh.
“Sheisa very sensible driver,” I tell Sophie.
“More young women should be,” Eugene says, glancing up from the spreadsheet he’s reviewing on his iPad two tables away.
“Very funny, Eugene. You think five over is a crime?—”
“It is, technically speaking,” he says, just as Travis sputters a laugh.
