THIRTEEN
JACK
NOVEMBER
The writing wason the wall.
My nanny, who was nanny number four from this agency, had already complained about Sydney once, and I said I’d take care of it. That was a bald-faced lie because there is nothing anyone can say or do to make my ex-wife behave in a rational or reasonable way.
Then on Wednesday, she filed an incident report with the nanny agency, officially documenting Sydney’s, and thus my, offenses.
I couldn’t blame her. I just wished there were someone I could file an incident report with. I didn’t have anyone in my life to regulate my ex-wife, and how was that fair? Is there not an official Bureau of Complaints Against Sydney?
So when I got home from a fundraiser Thursday night and found Hayley on the couch with a white envelope in her hand, I wasn’t overly surprised.
“Hey,” I whisper-yelled. “How’d they do?”
“Good,” she said with a plastic smile. “Um, Mr. Leroy?”
That was a bad sign. She’d always called me Jack before. “Yeah? What’s up? Did something go wrong?”
“Nothing with the kids, but I wanted to hand in my resignation.”
I stood, slackjawed, as the implications of that hit me. This was bad—fucking terrible, actually. We were already on thin ice with the nanny agency, Sydney having them pissed them off so many times as a method of getting back at me for divorcing her. And then, not to seem like a creep, I had to be extremely professional when handling problems. It was hard enough being a single dad with a strange young woman in my house. The last thing I needed to add to our already bad record wasdad hits on nannies. “Sorry to hear that. Is there anything I could do to convince you to stay?”
She swallowed and cast her eyes down. “It’s been a pleasure working for you, Jack. Jace and Harper are sweet kids. It’s just . . .”
“Sydney?” I supplied.
She grimaced. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Leroy. She’s—well, you know how she is.”
“I do know how she is,” I paused, a headache building behind my brow. “I don’t want to make this awkward and I’m sorry too. If there’s anything I can do to convince you to stay?—”
“I just feel it’s best for my mental health to not have to worry about her coming around. It’s too stressful not knowing when she’s going to show up.”
I nodded. “I get it.” And man, did I ever. If Sydney hadn’t given me the two beautiful kids asleep upstairs, I’d gladly never see her again.
I walked Hayley to the door, told her I’d be a reference for her, and took her house key, making a mental note to change the code. Hell, maybe I wouldn’t even give Sydney the new code.
Fuck.
Another nanny, gone. This was our fourth. The first time, the recruiter at the nanny agency assured me it’s sometimes a matter of finding the right fit. But by the time she sent me Hayley, I didn’t get such conciliatory words. In fact, I was told if this didn’t work out, I wouldn’t be able to work with them at all anymore.
L.A.’s a big city. I could find a new nanny, but it wouldn’t fix the root problem. Sydney would do anything to make my life hell.
Some days I fantasized about packing up all our stuff, taking our kids, and leaving like a thief in the night. I’m old enough that no one would question me quitting the league. I could go off the radar for a while, then pick back up with coaching or league commentary.
I opened the fridge and cracked a beer on instinct, taking a sip as I looked over the calendar stuck to the door. I could probably piece something together with sitters for the next couple of weeks, but I was really fucked for Saturday. I was planning to have Mara and her kids at the game. Hayley was supposed to watch them then, and I knew one of our usual sitters was out of town.
A normal guy would be able to ask his ex-wife and the mother of his children if she wouldn’t mind swapping weekends. I was not a normal guy.
Admitting to Syd that she’d scared off yet another nanny was not something I looked forward to. Hell, seeing her at all just reminded me what a bad mistake I made in marrying her, letting her control me for so long. She broke me. I let her dictate who I hung out with and when, weighed every decision I made against her opinion.
It still wasn’t enough.Nothingwould have ever been enough for her. She made me believe I’d always be a fuckup, just like myfamily thought. She thrived when I felt like shit, clinging to her as a lifeline.
Even though I’d since pulled the wool off my eyes, it set me off to be around her. And to admit she won again? Worse.
As I poured more beer down my throat, I realized it wasn’t giving me the comfort I needed.
