And me.
I blow out a breath and look at my mom. “It didn’t work out. She left.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “And whose decision was that?”
I steal a glance at Presley in time to see her eyes fill with tears. It twists something sharp in my chest. Makes it harder to admit what I’m about to.
“Mine.”
The word barely leaves my mouth before Presley’s tears spill over. Anger flashes across her expression, and she turns and storms up the stairs.
“Presley,” I whisper-shout after her, her stomping feet echoing in the house. “Quiet. Your brother’s napping.”
She doesn’t care. Her footsteps pound down the hallway,her bedroom door slamming hard enough that the walls seem to rattle.
I freeze, praying Jemmy sleeps through it.
Then the monitor crackles.
And he cries.
“Great,” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face.
“That’s karma,” my mom says dryly.
“For what?” I ask, already heading for the stairs.
She follows close behind. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t fired Rowan. I thought she was doing well. The kids like her. Especially Presley.”
I shake my head, but don’t argue as I step into Jemmy’s room.
He’s standing up in his crib, his cheeks flushed, tears streaking down his face. I scoop him up, his small body warm and shaking against mine.
“Hey, Jemmy,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Did the loud bang scare you?”
He nods, burying his face in my shoulder.
“It’s okay. I’m here now.”
He pulls back, sniffling. “Ro-Ro.”
“I’m sorry, bud. But she won’t be playing with you anymore.”
His lower lip trembles as he sobs Rowan’s name.
My mom appears in the doorway, arms folded. “Looks like you’ve got yourself in a pickle. Want to explain why you fired the one nanny your kids actually liked? Hell, the one nanny who actually seemed to like your kids.”
“I already told you…” I carry Jemmy over to the changing table. “It didn’t work out.”
“Why?”
I toss the dirty diaper into the bin and use a wipe to clean him. “She took Jemmy to the library this morning and was supposed to text as soon as they got home. She didn’t.”
I leave out the part that she did text, but I never received it.
“When I called her, she didn’t answer,” I continue, dressing Jemmy in a t-shirt and pair of pants. “All I could think was that something happened. Thought I lost him too.” I lift my son into my arms, holding him close, inhaling his fresh baby scent.
My mom’s expression softens, and she steps closer, resting a hand on my arm. “You can’t go there every time someone doesn’t answer the phone. Jemmy’s fine.” She pinches his cheek, and he giggles. “Aren’t you, little man?”
