36. Olivia
36
OLIVIA
I love you, Olivia. Stay with me. Please.
I cried myself to sleep as those words echoed in my head and my heart across the Atlantic, and then half of North America. Every part of my body ached with tension, grief, and loss. It didn’t matter whether I was awake or dreaming. I kept seeing the raw vulnerability on Declan’s face as he told me loved me. The hopeful look on Catie’s as she waited for my response.
But love wasn’t enough this time. He was asking me to give up the life I’d built in America, the career I’d built as a nanny. And yet he couldn’t even give up this idea that hurting Mark O’Rourke justified hurting everyone else around him.
I’d always hated when my friends defended the jerks they dated by saying, “Oh, but he’s not an asshole to me . He loves me .”
I knew Declan’s situation was more complicated than that. Yes, he’d made a choice that was going to hurt people—but it wasn’t because he was mean or didn’t care. If anything, he was willing to do it because he cared too much.
But I also couldn’t stand by and watch him go down this path, waiting for the day revenge swallowed him whole. Sinead wasn’t the only Byrne sibling to have developed an addiction while trying to live with the burden of their loss and grief. She was just the only one who’d been brave enough to ask for help.
So I avoided conversation with the nice, cute man sitting next to me on the plane who offered me tissues. I didn’t say a word to the cab driver who took me home when I finally landed in Faribault-Northfield. And I didn’t realize until the next morning, when I was unpacking my suitcase, that I’d completely forgotten to tell Molly I’d left Ireland.
I stared down at the notebook in my hands, the one I’d been using to draft our story.
Just the thought of opening it hurt. The experience of writing this story, of believing in this story, was too wrapped up in Declan for thoughts of it to bring me any comfort now.
I could have tried to keep working on drafts with Molly. The editor at the publishing house hadn’t wanted that many changes, after all. I didn’t want to be the kind of woman who passed up the opportunity to become a published author because of a man.
But it wasn’t just any man. It was Declan. And I knew in my heart that continuing to work on this book would be like tearing stitches from a fresh wound, over and over again.
I checked the time to make sure Molly would actually be awake with the time difference, and then I called her.
“Hey!” she said brightly. “Was just about to call you. Want to ditch Declan and grab a drink with me tonight?”
I snorted out a laugh, then swallowed the lump in my throat. “I would, but I’m back in Minnesota. Declan and I broke up. And I…I don’t think I can do the picture book anymore.” I went on to explain that she could have the rights to everything I’d written so far, and how sorry I was.
Molly interrupted me as I was trying to convince her to find another writer to get the book to the finish line.
“That is absolute bullshit. I’m not getting another writer. We’ll talk about this in a month, when you’ve had some time and you’re not all…” She searched for words. “Emotionally goopy.”
My heart ached at her kindness. “In a month, I’ll be nannying again. And there’s never any way to tell how much time I’ll have on my hands with a new family. I might not have a minute to spare for anything but my day job. Our editor needs our next draft before then. Really, don’t wait for me.”
Molly protested, but I apologized again, made my excuses, and hung up the phone.
I stared down at the suitcase I’d been living out of since my first nannying job.
I should have stuck with being the person who helps other people’s families , I thought.
Letting myself dream of having my own family again…it hurt too damn much when that dream fell apart.
W hen Sunny Days Childcare called and said they had a time-sensitive job interview available for me today if I wanted it, I was grateful for the distraction from my own misery. I dragged myself into the shower, changed into something respectable, and logged onto the video-chat to fake a smile and meet my potential future employees.
Fifteen minutes into the interview, I could feel my smile cracking.
“We don’t believe in nap time,” the mom explained.
“I thought you said your kid was two? That’s a developmentally appropriate age for a nap,” I said.
“If he naps, he’s too energetic when we get home from work,” the dad explained. “If you keep him up during the day, then he’s out like a light right after you leave. It’s much more efficient.”
“But it’s worse for your kid,” I said.
The mom narrowed her eyes at me. “You sound like our last nanny. She refused to use the bespoke baby lotion I bought for our little Trent, just because she thought it was giving him a tiny, barely there rash.”
“Now, now,” the dad said. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Sunny Days assured us that Olivia here would be very accommodating.” He lowered his voice and reminded his wife, “ She nannied for the man who invented Snug .”
The mom got a crafty look in her eye. “I suppose you could introduce us, if we gave you the job?” She patted her hair. “You know, I’m something of an influencer.”
I stared at her in disbelief. Had the parents always been this bad?
They had, I realized. They’d just gotten bad so slowly I hadn’t realized. The first family I’d worked for had been truly wonderful. But just about everyone between them and Declan had been different and increasingly less tolerable brands of awful.
I don’t want to do this anymore , I realized.
Declan had been right. It was time for me to start building my own life instead of trying to fix other people’s—especially when those other people acted like these two.
“I’m not interested in this job anymore,” I said. “Hire your old nanny back, and let your kid take a nap.”
I hung up, surprised to realize how much lighter I felt. When push came to shove, I hadn’t been brave enough to quit my job for Declan.
But I could quit it for me .
And I didn’t think I would have been able to do that before Declan. His vision, his confidence, his bravery…somehow, it had rubbed off on me.
If you can walk away from nannying , I told myself, you’re brave enough to write that book . Even if it reminds you of Declan.
I didn’t want to be the kind of person who ran from my past. Even if my past was memories of a beautiful man who’d broken my heart.
I emailed Sunny Days to tell them to delete my profile from the website.
Their response was two words: Good riddance .
For once, we agreed with each other.
I called Molly, pacing anxiously as I waited for her to answer. It would be late for her, but she tended to stay up late.
“I’m back in,” I said, as soon as she answered. “I want to work on the book.”
“I found a new writer already.” Molly yawned.
“What!?” I yelped.
“Kidding. You deserved it for running out on me, though,” Molly said. “What changed?”
“I quit nannying,” I explained. “I know it will take a while to turn writing into a profitable career. But I’ve got this blog on Snug that already has a sponsorship offer. To be honest, I don’t much like the offer itself, but if I can get one offer, then I think I can find a better one. And if nothing else comes through, then I’ve got plenty of savings to live on, since most of my jobs since college included room and board.”
“I love it,” Molly said. “Dream big.”
“Speaking of improving things… I think I want to make a bigger change than the editor asked for,” I said. I ran my hand through my hair. “There’s was something Declan said the other day that made me realize there’s a better way to end the story.”
Molly hesitated. “Are you sure this is a good idea and not a weird way of processing grief? I like the one you already wrote.”
It was a fair question. But…
I shook my head. “I know in my gut. This is a better ending. If I send it to you, can you mock up some illustrations to share with our editor?”
Molly sighed. “Fiiiiiiiiine. But I’m trusting you on this.”
“Good,” I said.
For the first time in a long while, I was trusting myself too.