Page 99 of Nine Week Nanny
I end the call and drop the phone on my desk, rubbing both hands over my face. The silence of the house presses in around me. No Lennon. No Sloane. Just me and the shitshow of everything crumbling around me.
My phone buzzes again. Lenoir's name flashes on the screen, no doubt with another crisis that can't wait.
I swipe to accept her call, thumbing the speakerphone button.
"What is it?" My voice comes out sharper than intended.
"Good morning to you, too." Lenoir's no-nonsense tone cuts through the speaker.
"Sorry. It's been one of those mornings. What's up? Please don't hand me another dumpster fire."
"Nope, you're safe. Just calling to remind you that today's the closing date for your house."
"You're kidding me." I pace away from the desk, muscles tightening across my shoulders. "Today? Fuck. I completely forgot about that. Can't someone sign on my behalf? I thought this was a done deal. Why did I sign the power-of-attorney? I thought that meant I didn’t need to attend.”
"You signed for the pre-closing occupation. This is for the actual closing. Unfortunately, only you can sign. It shouldn't take more than about twenty or thirty minutes, though. The seller has already signed."
"Goddammit. I don't have time for this. What time?"
"The appointment's at ten-thirty with the attorney."
I glance at my watch. It’s 9:38. The hospital crisis, Lennon's custody battle, and now Sloane walking out without a word. My life is a tower of jenga blocks, and someone keeps pulling out the support pieces.
"Can't we reschedule? I'm drowning here."
"If you skip, the deal could unravel." Lenoir's voice softens slightly. "I know your plate is full, but this needs to happen. You'll be in and out of there before you know it."
I exhale sharply, pinching the bridge of my nose. The house. The only stable thing I've established since moving here, and I haven't even officially owned it yet.
"Fine. Text me the address."
"Already sent. And Pope?"
"What?"
"When you're done, go home and sleep. You sound like hell."
I end the call without responding. Sleep. Right. As if I could close my eyes with Chris throwing around accusations and nurses walking out of my hospital with pitchforks.
And Sloane...
The image of her taillights disappearing down the driveway flashes through my mind again. Why did she leave without saying anything?
Focus, Carrigan. One fire at a time.
I gather the hospital projection papers, shoving them into my briefcase. The empty house around me is both too large and suffocating. I grab my keys and head for the door, my footsteps echoing against the wood floors.
Just one more thing to check off the list. Sign the papers. Own the house. Then figure out how to save everything else that's slipping through my fingers.
I walk to my car after the closing while going through the ten emails and four texts that came through in less than fifteen minutes.
Twenty-seven signatures later, the beach house is officially mine, at least.
If only I could close up all of these other loose ends unraveling in my life.
I pull at my tie, unbutton my top button, and lean back against the headrest, letting my eyes close for just a moment. The leather seat creaks as I shift my weight.
My phone vibrates against the console. Warren's name flashes on the screen.
