Page 123 of Nine Week Nanny
It’s the fact that I had to give up Sloane to make it happen. While I would do it again to keep him safe, I can’t square that it came down to a choice at all. Him or her.
She reaches across the table, fingers brushing mine. “You’re protecting him, Pope. That’s all Maria wanted. That’s all I want. He’s not with Chris, and that is everything.”
I want to believe her. I want to take comfort in it. Instead, all I can think of is what I’ve had to give up to get here.
The café bustles around us, silverware clinking, people laughing.
Normal Tuesday lives, while mine hangs in limbo.
My mother sweepsthrough the front door without knocking. She’s a whirlwind of silver hair and jangling bracelets.
Hart follows behind, carrying a covered cake dish, a bottle of wine, and a large duffel bag on her shoulder. Her calm presence tempers Val's energy.
"There's my boy!" Val kisses both my cheeks before I can dodge. "You look terrible."
"Always with the compliments." I step back, already feeling cornered.
Hart sets the cake on the counter and crosses to me, squeezing my arm. "She means you look tired. The cake's coconut. Figured you could use something sweet."
Val circles the living room, running her finger along shelves, stopping to adjust a framed photo of Lennon. "Where is my precious grandson anyway?"
"He's not your grandson, Val. He's your ex-husband's child. He's with Camila at the water park."
"Semantics." She waves dismissively. "He's family."
The sun shifts, casting the room in amber light. I notice fingerprints on the windows that the cleaners missed when cleaning. Every imperfection in my house, in my life, is suddenly magnified.
"So." Val plops herself on my couch, patting the cushion beside her. "Tell us about this nanny situation."
My stomach tightens. "I gave the weekend nanny the weekend off since Camila and you guys were coming. I figured between the four of us, we could cover it."
"No," she says firmly. "Not that nanny."
“Why are you bringing this up again? I already told you. Christ. You need to find a soap opera to watch instead of digging around in mine."
"You said on the phone you had to let her go. Because of Chris."
Hart moves to the kitchen, filling the kettle. The familiar clink of metal on porcelain grates on my nerves.
She isn’t going to stop. I may as well give her something, enough to keep her from pressing harder.
“Yeah. So you know everything. The custody case got complicated, that’s all." My voice is steady, practiced.
Val narrows her eyes. "That’s not all, and we both know it."
"Val," Hart warns gently from the kitchen.
"What? He's my son. I know when he's holding back."
I cross to the window, needing distance. "I made a mistake getting involved with her. I fixed it. There’s nothing else to say.”
“You fixed it by firing her?" Val's tone sharpens. "Pope, you were raised better than that."
The kettle whistles, a welcome interruption. Hart brings three mugs to the coffee table, steam rising between us like a barrier.
"What does Lennon think about the new nanny?" Hart asks quietly, gracefully changing the subject without changing the subject.
The question lands like a punch. I swallow hard, thinking of Lennon's tears when Margaret picked him up yesterday. "He's adjusting."
