“Yeah, but let’s be honest, Matt. I know fuck all about kids. You trust me to take Jack but I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m just winging it. If Jack came down with something, I wouldn’t know if it was a cold, tonsillitis, or pneumonia. I love Jack and I do my best whenever I see him, but I’m horrifically out of my depth. That never bothers you, though, and you can’t say it does because I know you—even if you didn’t say anything, your face would tell me everything. Harper is a million times more qualified than me to look after Jack, so why do you trust me over him?”
My frown deepened, my whole face pulling as her words sank painfully into my skin. I hated the point she was making and wished I’d never said anything. “Yeah, but… I… it’s just…”
“You can try and justify this however you want, but you know I’m right.” She was firm but not unkind—she never was. She’d put up with my shit for years, and maybe in another universe we’d have worked as a couple instead of being better as friends.
“Are you going to gloat?” I asked, my attempt to lighten the mood falling flatter than a pancake, my sourness worse than a whole bottle of artificial lemon juice.
“No, not today.”
“So you’re going to at some point?”
“Maybe. If you get your head out of your arse and stop being such a dick.” She sipped her coffee again and smiled. “Harper knows more about raising kids than I ever will, so trust him. Please.”
“I’ll try.”
“You better, because I swear if you get us blacklisted from the agency by forcing another nanny to quit, I will never let you forget it.”
“Understood,” I said. And I believed her because once Hannah decided something, standing in her way just meant you’d get steamrollered.
She did have a very good point, though, loath as I was to admit it. Harper was the ideal person to look after Jack, both on paper and in person, so I should be jumping for joy and getting on with training without a care in the world. But I kept getting stuck and pushing back, picking holes and creating problems where none existed.
It wasn’t making mountains out of molehills. It was making mountains out of a tiny fragment of dried mud that had dropped off my boots.
“You know, you can talk to me about whatever’s going on in that head of yours,” Hannah said. “Although you’ve only got ten minutes because then I’ve got a meeting.”
I shook my head, not wanting to dump more of my problems on her. “You’re fine. Tell me what you’re up to. Still enjoying LA?”
“It’s okay. I don’t really get to see much of it. The whole situation here is a mess, so the hours are long, but only another eight days. Then I’ll be back.”
“Don’t work yourself into the ground, please. Take some time off one night. Go out.”
“I am! And one of the girls here is taking me to an art show tomorrow night,” Hannah said.
“You don’t know anything about art.”
“I can still enjoy it! Oh, and we’re going to see an ice hockey game at the weekend. I have no idea about the rules, but I’m assuming it’s like rugby—you hit the opposition very hard and try and score more points than them. Only there’s fewer tiny shorts and it’s played on ice.” She glanced down at her desk and sighed. “Crap, I have to go. Someone wants me. I’ll call Jack tomorrow. And apologise to Harper for being a dickhead.”
“Yeah,” I said vaguely. “I’ll speak to you then.”
I hung up and stroked my beard, sitting with my thoughts for a while longer. The way Hannah had so casually admittedshe didn’t know what she was doing had floored me because I desperately needed to pretend that I did. I didn’t know why. Maybe it helped me feel like I had a handle on my life or something.
Logically, I knew it was impossible for me to know everything—what parent ever did?—or be in control twenty-four seven, but it didn’t stop the feeling from being there.
The one thing I did know was that I wanted to be a good dad and every time I looked at Harper, with his serene sense of calm, his bright smile, his endless certificates, and his ability to seemingly handle everything, all I felt was a pit of despair opening up inside my chest. There was no way I’d ever be able to measure up to him.
That was probably why I’d pushed all the nannies into quitting. Because I couldn’t compare myself to someone who wasn’t there.
“Fuck,” I muttered, running my hand through my hair. “I really am a prick.”
I didn’t know how to deal with these feelings, but I supposed acknowledging them was the first step. And then what? Apologise to Harper, explain a little, and pray he didn’t pack his bags and run screaming. After all, who wanted to work for someone who constantly compared themselves to you?
Whether I liked it or not, though, the apology would have to be the first step. I’d figure out the rest later.
But before all of that, I was going to eat ice cream in bed and catch up on the latest series ofDrag Stars UKuntil I passed out. At least then if Jack woke up at three, I’d already be in bed, ready to be climbed over, cuddled, and coughed on.
I really hoped whatever he’d come down with wasn’t contagious.
It took me nearly five days to pluck up the courage to apologise to Harper, during which we maintained an uneasy truce. We both pretended nothing had happened despite it hanging in a black cloud over our heads, and it helped there was a weekend in the middle where I could take Jack out of the house and Harper could disappear off to explore the local area.
