Page 78 of Worst Nanny Ever
“What if it’s not enough?” I ask, giving voice to the fear that’s been growing inside of me like a sun-drunk weed. “What if I fuck Ollie up?”
I leave the second part of that fear unvoiced—like our fathers fucked us up. Rob’s had a time of it too. His dad’s a piece of work, same as mine. He always favored Rob’s dipshit little brother, Jonah, who I now have very personal reasons for loathing. It gets to me that he had the privilege of touching Hannah and didn’t value it. It makes me want to ruin him, although Hannah, Sophie, and Briar already did a pretty thorough job of that. It gives me particular joy to know that he had no choice but to leave his chosen profession and go work for his father, an embarrassing prospect for any man.
Rob smiles at me—a sad, knowing smile. “The fact that you care makes it much less likely to happen.”
“I can’t let Lilah take him away from me,” I say, my voice cracking. “I can’t lose him.”
“You won’t. You’ve got a lot of people on your side.”
I nod, trying to keep the worry from taking over. “Thank you.”
“Go home to them,” Rob says, and I don’t miss the “them.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
TRAVIS
When I get home, I take off my shoes and socks and round the corner into the living room. Some cartoon I don’t recognize is playing, and Hannah is on the couch with her arm around Ollie, both of them fast asleep. I approach them, intending to carry him to his room, but I hesitate at the sight of them curled up on the couch.
Hannah’s bright hair surrounds her face like a halo, and my son’s face is at peace, his long eyelashes fluttering softly against his cheeks.
Ollie’s hair is shorter, so presumably Liam’s not the gum wizard he used to be. A sense of loss hits me hard. I have no idea when he got his first haircut, or whether his hair initially grew in a different color. More details that have been denied to me, details Lilah would never share, if she even remembers. Suddenly I need that information in the way a body needs food, the way I need music.
The haircut makes Ollie look a little older, but he’s still so vulnerable looking. So breakable.
But Hannah’s holding him firmly, her strength so obvious I can feel it. I want to savor it. She’s still wearing that yellow dressfrom earlier—a bright spot. A beaming light. A glimmer of pure beauty in a world full of darkness.
They’rebothbeautiful, and it hurts to look at them.
Everything hurts lately, as if every wound I’ve ever been dealt has begun to bleed at once.
Trying to shake off the thoughts, I close the distance to the couch and gently caress Hannah’s arm, not wanting to wake her with a start. Her lashes flutter open and then her green eyes settle on me, stirring a warmth that fills my entire body and the soul caged within it.
“I’m going to carry him to his room,” I say, my voice thick.
She nods, but I notice she hugs him before relinquishing him to me. She cares about Ollie. She understands this fierce feeling inside of me, the painful need to protect someone smaller and in need of care.
I stare into her eyes, almost hypnotized, but Ollie makes a little snuffling noise, and I gather him up in my arms. He snuggles against my chest, and the protective feelings swell into a tidal wave that nearly bowls me over.
I lay Ollie down on his bed and pull the covers over him, then give in to the need to run a hand over his hair before leaving the room.
When I return to the living room, Hannah’s sitting up on the couch, waiting for me. There’s a smear of makeup under her right eye, but otherwise she looks immaculate, just like always, whether she’s dressed down or like this.
“Thank you for today,” I say. “For all of it.” I remain standing, because I don’t know if I can be that close to her right now without reaching for her.
She smiles sleepily. “Is my makeup all over my face?”
“No. Just a little bit near your eye.”
“Help a girl out?” she asks, tipping her head up to me.
A painful yearning consumes me as I sweepa finger beneath her eye, rubbing away the makeup smudge. I can’t resist caressing her cheek. Her skin is soft and warm and so touchable my fingers don’t know how to stop.
Her lips part, giving me a glimpse of her tongue, and the need to kiss her is almost overwhelming. I’ve been wanting to kiss her all day. All week.Longer.
But I can’t do that. I can’t.
“Will you sit down with me a minute?” she asks, her eyes lingering on me.
