22. It’s Not a Party Until Someone Gets Evicted
22
It’s Not a Party Until Someone Gets Evicted
LEIGHTON
February
The Nanny Diaries: Oliver Hart Falls For The Help
Double Trouble: It Looks Like Oliver Hart Is Off The Market—and His Brother’s Sister-In-Law Is The Lucky Lady
Rich, Hot, and in Love: Heir to Hart Dynasty Seen With Brunette Bombshell
* * *
“Are we out of yogurt?”
“We?” I didn’t bother glancing up from my laptop.
Ollie and I had decided to ‘soft launch’ our relationship after we told the kids we were dating at the beginning of February. We picked the restaurant, showed up looking like fire, and Ollie obliterated any questions when he kissed the life out of me in our booth in the back. Unfortunately, a soft launch was not what the tabloids had in mind. They were having way too much fun with it, in my opinion. A bunch of parasitic dumpster ferrets.
“You. I meant are you out of yogurt?” Paxton clarified as he popped out from behind my fridge like an oversized jack-in-the-box. The man was anything but subtle. He’d been hovering constantly for weeks. If Kaia was out, Pax was miraculously around. I wasn’t sure if they thought I’d spontaneously keel over—entirely disregarding the board-certified physicians monitoring me like overpaid hawks—or if he really was just sick of his roommates, like he claimed.
“Yeah, I need to go shopping.”
“Dammit.”
“You have your own house, you know?” I shut my laptop with a sigh. “And I’d bet your bumbling band of meatheads has an abundance of Greek yogurt and chicken breasts for you to pillage.”
“And go without your sparkling personality? How ever would I survive?”
“Peacefully, I imagine.”
He snorted. “Give me a list. I’ll tackle groceries.”
“And risk being spotted in public?” Being a star quarterback came with paparazzi, but dragging a once-downtrodden team back into playoff contention before falling short had put a neon bullseye on his back. On second thought, maybe he was hiding out here—for both the peace and the yogurt.
“I said I’d tackle them, not that I’d go myself.”
“You don’t need to order me groceries, bubba.”
“And you don’t need to feed me five-thousand calories a day, punky. So shut up and make a list.”
“You’re crabby.”
“Look who’s talking.”
I scowled at him, but he wasn’t wrong. I was exhausted. Eighteen weeks pregnant and still waiting for that miraculous second-trimester energy boost everyone promised. It had yet to appear. “I have an excuse.”
“Juniper sang her way through her pregnancy with you and Kaia, so cling to that loosely.”
I deadpanned. “Mom is a freak of nature.”
“Valid. But hey, you’re keeping food down again.”
“That part is nice.”
“And your obsession with Indian curry has only grown.”
“Christ, you have been here a lot lately.” I raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay at home, darling?”
Paxton flopped onto the couch, the frame groaning under his weight. He poked at the takeout container he’d just retrieved, kicking his feet onto the coffee table like he paid rent.
“They’re gross,” he grumbled.
I laughed, tucking my computer into its bag. “The vast majority of the female population can attest to that.”
“Why’s everything gotta smell like sweaty socks? And for the love of God, we’re grown men. Wipe the seat if you make a mess.”
“Ew.” I wrinkled my nose. “Any luck finding a new place? You’ve got more money than God—I find it hard to believe there’s nothing in your budget.”
He sighed. “My agent’s shown me a few spots, but nothing says home , you know?”
“I’d be more concerned if inanimate objects started speaking to you.”
“Hardy-har-har.”
“You’ll find the right one.” I smiled at him—a smile that narrowed immediately when he opened his big mouth again, dimple flashing like a warning light.
“About that…”
“ Paxton .”
“What if I proposed a deal?” He balanced his takeout on his knee.
“Holy guacamole, just spit it out.”
“What if I crash here for a while? Two birds, one stone.”
“If by ‘crash’ you mean ‘move in,’ you better butter that biscuit and present it properly.”
“You are preg-a-nante.”
“Very observant.”
“I am mis-rob-lay.”
I laughed. I didn’t mean to, but the big sap was looking at me with those damn puppy eyes. Six-foot-four, 240 pounds, and America’s sweetheart was pouting .
“That sounds like a you problem.”
“You’re gonna need—” He caught the look I gave him and popped his lips, eyes lifting skyward like he was praying for divine guidance. “—what I meant to say is, I would like to be here to help. Make sure you get enough rest, help with the baby, etcetera.”
“Kaia will be here for that.” Although, the idea of raising this baby in a proper village of people who loved them already had my heart melting.
“Well, then. To replenish the Greek yogurt. That kind of thing.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Plus, living alone in Chicago was brutal. The quiet drove me nuts.”
“The worst,” I said, doing my best to keep a straight face.
“And we have fun together.”
“We do.”
“ And you don’t smell like a jockstrap.”
“Thank you for noticing.”
“So, temporarily, I could rent the spare bedroom. Just until I find or renovate something perfect.”
“I still don’t see the perk for me.”
“Apart from my dazzling presence?”
“Yes.”
“That’s it. That’s all I got. Also, I’ll cover rent.”
“Greyson paid off the mortgage.”
“Well, fuck.” His shoulders drooped.
“God, you’re such a baby.”
“I hate being single,” he muttered. “I need someone to talk to. Someone to make coffee and cook with. Solitude is for the birds.”
“Luckily, you have the merry men of Emerald Bay.”
“That might be worse.” He perked up again. “Come on, punky. It’ll be fun. Like old times.”
There was something stupidly endearing about a man with more zeros in his bank account than I cared to count, begging to voluntarily subject himself to the chaos of his twin little sisters.
“Yeah,” I sighed dramatically. “Alright.”
His grin stretched full Cheshire. “I promise I’ll make it worth it.” He stood and opened his absurd arms for a hug.
“Try that again,” I muttered into his chest, arms wrapping around his waist.
“I promise you will not have to clean the bathrooms ever again.”
“ Now that’s what I’m talking about.”
March
Arms loaded with party store supplies in a color scheme better suited for a funeral, I kicked open the door to Sip Happens . Nestled in the heart of Emerald Bay, my favorite coffee shop was an eclectic little hipster-approved haven—walls plastered in thrifted finds, obscure collector’s records, and even a few comic books I recognized.
The last few weeks of February flew by in a flurry of Santa Ana winds, sister-led party planning, and nailing down final details for our trip to Florida for Jameson’s wedding at the end of March.
Our little ballerina was turning eleven this weekend, and the three of us may have gotten a wee bit carried away with the party prep. But a black card with no limit will do that to even the most reasonable of us—especially for a kid like Tillie.
“Okay, all that’s left is the cake delivery and we’re good to go,” Alice said, tapping away at her phone with one hand, iced coffee in the other. She was always working—even weekends—and I didn’t envy how tightly the Hart family business seemed to cling to its people. She, Grey, and Ollie might as well have their phones surgically implanted.
“Caterers?” I asked, dumping my bags at a table and scanning through our mental checklist.
“Confirmed this morning,” Kaia chirped, making her three-inch heel shuffle look effortless while I felt like a sweaty cow. “Planetary cupcakes too.”
“Floral?”
“Delivered,” Alice confirmed, slipping her phone into her purse just as Jax lumbered inside behind us, clearly less than thrilled to be here. Greyson had only intensified Alice’s security after the accident. If he couldn’t be at her side, Jackson was. Though honestly, they were together most of the time anyway. Poor guy was permanently third-wheeling .
“Okay,” I sighed, nodding more to myself than to them. Everything was checked off. The event would be as close to perfect as humanly possible, and Mattie would know—without question—just how loved she was.
“Relax, sissy! We’ve got everything,” Kaia reassured, that radiant smile of hers blooming with ease.
“Right, yeah, okay. It’s great—it’s gonna be great.”
“Breathe.”
“Yep!” I sucked in a dramatic inhale through my nose and, to my surprise, some actual relief settled into my chest on the exhale. “Okay. Coffee, then we decorate.”
“Aye-aye, captain!” Kaia gave a mock salute. As if summoned, Jackson’s eyes flicked our way. She snickered into her palm. “Easy, Old Yeller . We’re just grabbing drinks.”
He harrumphed, arms folded like a mountain in a polo, but didn’t move from his post. He did, however, glare at Alice like all of this was her fault.
I led the way to the counter, grinning at Jasper—the barista? baristo? I never knew which—and asked for my regular. I motioned the girls up to order behind me, then glared pointedly at our security shadow.
His response? A slow smile.
Rolling my eyes, I added a black coffee to the order and handed Jasper my card.
“Thank you very much! Sure nice to see you ladies!” he said cheerfully, handing it back.
“Same, thank you!” I turned to go, but the shop manager zipped over, curls bouncing.
“Hey, girl! Someone was looking for you earlier!”
My brows lifted. “Really? Who?”
She shrugged, brown eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Not sure. He wasn’t a regular or anything. Big beard, tall—six-three? Six-four?”
I scowled at Alice, who froze mid-scroll. “James in town?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” Greyson made it a point to know where all of us were, as if he was avoiding a family ambush. If Alice didn’t think our brother was here, he very likely wasn’t.
“Weird.” That familiar icy crawl snaked down my spine.
Alice shot a look at Jax, who was already moving, scowl deepening as he lumbered through the shop to stand beside us.
“Well… thanks anyway,” I said, accepting the cups from Jasper as my brain tried to pin down who the hell would be looking for me. Paparazzi, maybe? They’d been having a field day with our relationship, so it wouldn’t be the first time.
Fucking creeps.
* * *
“Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I think this was a huge success,” I whispered to Kaia, who was grinning ear-to-ear. Our little super genius asked for a galaxy-themed birthday party, and Ollie had suggested a star-gazing night in the backyard, but Tillie—who insisted on inviting her classmates, as to avoid ‘social suicide’—didn’t seem particularly keen on having so many people in her safe space.
I’d gingerly suggested the planetarium.
Naturally, Ollie booked the whole damn venue.
The lights were dimmed to a dusky glow. Fairy lights sparkled. The color palette was navy, black, violet, and gold. A Lofi Lord of the Rings playlist drifted softly through the air as guests moved through “Tillie’s Universe.” Yeah, the nickname was sticking.
After a few moments of wide-eyed overwhelm at the number of people who’d come to celebrate, our girl lit up once the kids were broken into smaller, more digestible groups.
Kaia ran a “star jar” station where each kid made their own glittery constellation in a mason jar. Alice helped man the constellation card table, where they punched holes in black cardstock and got to name their own stars.
Tillie’s idea for a “star swap” instead of gifts had been a hit—each kid brought a token they loved, something small but meaningful, and swapped with someone else.
But it was the stargazing show that stole the evening. A grandfatherly host named Howard narrated a custom sky presentation in dulcet fairytale tones instead of the usual thundering drama.
When it ended, he revealed Ollie had purchased her a real constellation. There was officially a cluster of twinkling balls of gas up in the universe named ‘Matilda Hart’, and, better yet, it had been visible the night she was born—she burst into tears and threw her arms around his waist.
I nearly joined her.
The staff swept in with galaxy-themed cupcakes while we regrouped at the front of the venue.
“Brilliant, sissy,” Kaia said.
“The sensory modifications were such a win,” Alice added, blinking rapidly. “Seriously, Leigh… you’re already such an amazing mom.”
I blinked at her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
She shrugged one elegant shoulder, clearly fighting emotion. “I’m just… grateful. That’s all.”
“Aww, sissy,” I cooed, wrapping her up as she held me tightly in return.
“You deserve the world, Leigh.”
“Back at you.”
“And the way you’ve stepped up for these kids this year…” She shook her head. “They needed you so desperately.”
“It’s nothing,” I mumbled, uncomfortable with the praise.
“It’s not nothing,” Kaia argued. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“It’s easy,” I said with a shrug. “You love somebody, you show up for them.” You love their daddy… and you’ll do anything to see him smile.
Alice’s voice was thick. “You’re showing them something they’ve never had—outside of Ollie.”
My throat tightened. Across the room, I spotted Beau racing toward his sister with a cupcake held high like a trophy. He presented it with a dramatic flourish, and the three of us burst out laughing. My gaze flicked to Ollie. He was already watching me, and when we smiled at each other, something deep passed between us—silent, certain.
Then…
A voice cut through the soft lull like a scalpel. “Well, isn’t this just precious! ”
Beau swerved. “ Mommy! ”
Tillie, however, froze.
My stomach sank with the speed of an asteroid.
“Oh, fuck,” Alice breathed as we all turned to see Carly standing at the entrance in a beautiful violet dress and silky gold heels, gift bag in hand, face painted to perfection. She looked ready to walk a red carpet.
Ollie was already moving toward her, jaw tight, expression set.
I was already moving too—straight for our birthday girl.
“I thought this was a party!” Carly crowed. “Where’s the music? Let’s turn up the volume, shall we?” She shot a sharp look at Howard, who wisely ignored her. “Happy birthday, baby girl!”
Tillie’s eyes were wide with panic. Her body locked up.
Cruella hadn’t seen her kids after the fiasco at the theater before The Nutcracker .
She hadn’t even bothered to send them Christmas presents, much less speak to them through the holidays.
The tension in the room could be carved with a damn ice pick. Even the staff and fellow parents were going still, like they knew something about this picture didn’t fit.
I reached Tillie just as her lip began to wobble. I knelt beside her and opened my arms without a word.
She flew into them.
And behind us, Carly kept smiling.
Fake. Cold.
Unwelcome.
As Carly scooped Beau into her arms, she announced, “I found you those glitter pens you love so much, and a brand new notebook!”
“You’re supposed to let her open her gift,” Kaia growled beside me. The moment we flanked Tillie, her small hands landed in ours.
“I’m so sorry I’m late. I know I messed up, sweetie,” Carly said—loud enough for every parent, nanny, and bystander to hear. She descended the aisle with Beau on her hip and all the poise of royalty. I wasn’t sure I’d ever hated anyone more than I did this woman as she came to a stop in front of our birthday girl. Ollie was right behind her. Carly set Beau down and tapped Mattie’s nose with one perfectly manicured finger. “So, I grabbed something extra special to make it up to you.”
She scowled at a staffer. “I said, let’s get the party started . Turn up. The music .” The poor girl bolted like she’d spotted a bear.
“ Wait ,” Ollie warned, and I caught Greyson trailing the girl toward the exit.
People around us awkwardly resumed their conversations, doing their best not to openly stare. Carly extended the pink and purple gift bag toward Mattie. Her eyes sharpened when Tillie shied back, moving a step behind me. She crouched to eye level.
“I’ve gone through a lot to get here, baby. I worked so hard to pick the perfect present. Take it, Matilda.”
“We didn’t do presents this year,” I said, arching a brow. “She doesn’t like being the center of attention. It was in the e-vite. Or can’t you read?”
“Go make yourself useful, Leighton,” she snapped, just as Ollie stepped up, his arm settling around my waist.
“Leighton planned the entire event,” Ollie said, voice low and biting. “How did you contribute?”
“Party planning too? Some people really can’t help inserting themselves where they don’t belong.” Her gaze dropped to Ollie’s hand on my waist. “Planning a wedding next, Leighton?”
“Maybe,” I said, tone flat, smiling when her eyes narrowed.
Dismissed, but not deterred, Carly turned back to Tillie. “After everything I’ve gone through to be here, you’re really going to embarrass me like this? Take the bag.”
“I’m just amazed you can see her when your bar’s in hell,” I muttered, yanking the bag from her hands to stop her from shoving it at the birthday girl. “Refreshments are in the corner. I’m sure you’ll make the rounds.”
She straightened like she’d just been slapped. The music switched to something peppy and poppy, the volume rising, and I cursed under my breath .
“Matilda Hart. I made you. I gave birth to you. You will treat me with the respect I deserve as your mother .” Her voice dropped into a hiss. “You can’t humiliate me just because your nanny likes to play pretend. She only cares about you because your daddy signs her paycheck.”
Tillie stiffened, eyes flicking to me, her face crumpling. I tightened my grip on her hand as Ollie barked, “ Enough , Carly. For fuck’s sake.”
“You use that language in front of my kids?” she gasped, offended. “Well, then I’m even happier to share my second present, baby.” She yanked the bag from my hands and pulled out an envelope, shoving it at Ollie. “I’ve filed a petition to modify our custody order.”
“What!?” Ollie thundered.
“This is not the time or place,” I snapped, nausea coiling in my gut.
“Oh, it’s all right there. I think it’s past time my children got to know their mother. Don’t you?” Then, to Tillie: “We’re going to have such fun once you come live with me.”
“You won’t get away with this,” I growled—but Tillie suddenly launched forward, slamming both hands into Carly’s ribs.
“Go away!” she screamed, her voice shrill and broken. “I don’t want you!”
Carly flinched, then tried to recover, placing a hand on Tillie’s shoulder. “Matilda, darling, I’m trying. I miss you ?—”
“I hate you!” Shove . “You left me! ”
“Baby,” she cooed, a convincing edge of hurt in her lowered voice. “I’m trying to be better.”
“Then leave !” she shrieked, her little voice breaking and tears pouring down her face. Beau started crying, but Alice scooped him up, taking calm steps away and toward the cupcake tower. “Just like you always do!”
“Matilda Hart,” Carly snapped, her veneer cracking.
“ No! ” Tillie screamed. “I don’t want to see you! Life would be better if you were dead! ”
Carly stumbled back like she’d been struck. Tillie didn’t wait—she turned and ran, sprinting up the aisle. Ollie hesitated, eyes flicking between Carly and our daughter.
“Go,” I told him, already stepping between Carly and the rest of the room.
“It’s time for you to leave,” I added, voice like steel.
Jackson was suddenly there, motioning toward the exit.
“I will not be ushered out of my daughter’s party by the nanny. ”
“Let’s go, Carly,” Jax rumbled, low and unflinching.
“This is ridiculous.” She scoffed, but shrank back when he took one deliberate step forward.
“You think you’re so clever,” she sneered, gaze narrowing on me around Jax’s shoulder. “Following in my footsteps. It won’t last.”
“Let’s go , Carly,” Jax repeated.
“You can pretend you’re different all you want. But he’ll get bored. Just like the rest of us. You’ll be yesterday’s news the second that baby’s off your tit.”
My eyes widened. Jax didn’t blink. Instead, he took her arm and steered her toward the exit. Kaia and I were left standing alone in the heavy silence that followed, thirty pairs of eyes pretending not to look.
Greyson’s voice came over the speakers. “The party is officially over. Please enjoy the refreshments and take a favor on your way out.”
Beside me, Kaia hissed the only question I’d been asking since Carly showed up.
“How the hell did she know?”