Page 100 of Nine Week Nanny
"Warren." I answer on the second ring. "I can't hear any more bad news from Chris. Did you get any clarity after our call this morning?"
"Got a minute?" His voice is level, measured. The voice of a man about to deliver news I won't like.
"Just finished the closing and I'm headed to the hospital. I've got exactly thirteen minutes."
"I've been looking into why Chris filed that second emergency petition last night." Warren pauses, clearing his throat. "It's worse than we thought."
My stomach tightens. "How could it be worse?"
"We already knew he's claiming you're unfit because you're sleeping with the nanny."
"Right. His word against mine. You said that this morning. So, what's worse?"
"He has photos. It's not just his word against yours."
The words hit like ice water. I bolt upright in my seat, gripping the steering wheel. "What the hell? How would he even?—"
"His attorney hired a PI to dig up dirt on you."
"And he has a fucking camera in my bedroom?"
Warren sighs. "No. The PI was staking out your house from the beach. He got photos of you and Ms. Brennan on your lawn."
My mind flashes to two nights that could have been. We had sex in the pool, and then that night after the movie.
"He has fucking pictures?" The words tear from my throat.
"I finally talked to his attorney and just found out about them. He hasn't entered them with the court, but he plans to leverage them." Warren's voice remains calm, infuriatingly professional.
I strike the steering wheel and kick the break pedal. Fuck, that hurt.
"Pope, are you listening? Chris isn't bluffing like we were hoping. He's going to enter the photos into evidence to get custody of Lennon. And it could work."
My fist slams into the dashboard. Pain shoots up my arm, but I barely feel it through the rage building inside me.
"That piece of shit." My breath comes faster, shorter. "Of course he would sink to get sleazy photos and use them to twist the narrative."
"He'll use anything he can. That's why I warned you about?—"
"I know what you warned me about." My voice drops dangerously low. The memory of Warren's earlier caution about appearances floods back. I hadn't listened, hadn't cared.
I press my forehead against the steering wheel, trying to steady my breathing.
"Pope?" Warren's voice cuts through my thoughts. "We need to come up with a plan. First things first, you can't be sleeping with the nanny if you're trying to show that this is a stable environment for Lennon. You have to understand that."
"I guess I don't understand how that's relevant, Warren. What happens if I don't? Good guardians can't have a sex life? Jesus Christ."
"Not with the nanny. Not on the fucking lawn for anyone to see, including the kid. Sure, if you'd kept it discreet, but come on, Pope. You have to see the optics here."
I close my eyes, seeing Lennon's face. His small hand in mine outside the courthouse. The trust I'd promised to honor.
"I don't regret being with her." The words come out rough, honest. "But if I've hurt Lennon's chances at safety?—"
"Focus on what we can control," Warren interrupts. "We need to prepare for Tuesday."
"Didn't the judge already rule on this?" My knuckles turn white around the phone.
"He ruled on the first petition," Warren explains, his tone steadying.
