28. Pope
TWENTY-EIGHT
Pope
She's not coming back here tonight. It's Saturday, so I guess she figures I can handle when Tasha isn't here.
I swirl the sparkling water in my glass. The ice is long melted. A text sits half-composed on my screen: Are you coming back tonight? I'd like to talk. My thumb hovers over send before I delete it entirely.
What right do I have to ask her to talk to me at this point after letting her walk away this morning, after keeping her at arm's length all week?
I drop my head into my hands. Warren's voice echoes in my skull. If Chris's photos are allowed in of you with the nanny, he will likely get Lennon.
Images of Chris's smug face as he threatened to release them flood back. I'm not the one fucking the help.
I stand abruptly, chair scraping against stone.
Grabbing my glass, I head for the door. Maybe a shower. Maybe work. Anything to drown out the silence.
I close the patio door behind me, and suddenly she's there. Sloane, backlit by the kitchen lights, her face unreadable.
"Oh." Her voice is flat. "I didn't realize you were out here."
My heart hammers against my ribs. "You came back."
"I always come back at night." Her shoulders straighten. "That was the agreement. But if you'd rather I didn't?—"
"No, no. That's not what I meant. I didn't know if you would."
"Why wouldn't I?" She crosses her arms. "I'm the nanny , right? I sleep here."
The word nanny cuts like glass. Somehow, that word, that title, is a weapon.
"Sloane—"
"Look, I get it." She steps back, reaching for her purse on the counter. "This was... whatever this was. But I should go. I'll come back Monday morning, and I won't skip a beat. I'll make it very easy, you won't have to tiptoe around."
"No." I move fast, blocking her path to the door. "Don't."
Her eyes flash. "Don't what? Don't leave? Don't make this awkward? What exactly do you want from me, Pope?"
"I want you to stay." The words come out raw, honest in a way I didn't plan. "Please."
Her expression falters, vulnerability peeking through the anger. We stand frozen in this moment, everything hanging on what happens next.
Sloane's eyes narrow, her knuckles white where she grips her purse strap.
"Stay? Now you want me to stay? You've been stretching so hard to avoid me the last two days, I was worried you'd pull something." Her voice breaks slightly.
"That's not?—.”
"Oh, sorry. You're right. The nanny shouldn't talk to the boss like that."
"Where is this coming from? When have I ever treated you like that?"
"I heard you on the phone, calling me 'the goddamned nanny' and talking about me as the person ‘who you fuck.'"
The blood drains from my face. My stomach drops through the floor.
"What?! I never said that."
"You're going to gaslight me, now? I heard you with my own ears yesterday morning."
I wrack my brain. I've never seen her like that. And then it occurs to me. That was my reaction when Warren told me what Chris was alleging.
"You took that out of context." My voice comes out barely above a whisper.
"I'm not sure what context that says anything other than exactly what I heard." She hugs herself tighter, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
I run my hand through my hair, my chest tight with shame. The memory floods back.
"Sloane, I had no idea you overheard that. God, I—" I take a step toward her, but she backs away. "I can explain. That wasn't—I didn't mean?—"
"Didn't mean what? To reduce me to a job title and a convenient hole to put your dick?” Her voice is steady now, controlled in a way that scares me more than if she were screaming.
I exhale slowly, trying to gather my thoughts. "I know how it sounded. And I'm sorry. But there's more happening than you know."
She shifts her weight, still clutching her purse like a shield. The kitchen light catches on her face, highlighting the wariness in her eyes. She doesn't trust me anymore, and why should she?
"Please," I gesture to the living room. "Five minutes. Let me explain what's happening with Lennon, with Chris."
Her jaw tightens. "Chris?"
"My father. Lennon's father." I swallow hard. "The reason I've been so distant."
She stands unmoving for several seconds, weighing my words against the hurt. Finally, she gives a short nod and sets her bag on the counter.
"Five minutes."
She doesn't sit, instead she moves into the living room and stands near the couch, keeping the coffee table between us. Her arms remain firmly crossed over her chest.
I follow, leaving space between us, knowing I've lost the right to stand close to her. The distance feels like miles.
"I'm listening," she says, her voice cool and professional, like we're discussing Lennon's reading progress.
I take a deep breath, knowing these next few minutes might be my only chance to fix what I've broken.
I grip the back of the armchair, trying to find solid ground. "Sloane, Chris is suing for custody. That's what I was discussing on the phone."
Her eyes narrow. "The deadbeat that doesn't care about anyone but himself?"
"Yes." The word scrapes my throat. "He filed an emergency petition originally to end my temporary guardianship. That is why Lennon and I had to fly to Jacksonville two weeks ago.”
"Why are you just now telling me all of this? You never said anything before or after Jacksonville. Oh, wait. That's right. I'm just the nanny." Her posture shifts slightly. I'm not fixing anything here.
"Stop it. That's not why at all, Sloane.
I didn't tell you because I was ashamed. I wasn’t able to be vulnerable.
Plus, I didn't want to drag you down with all the drama.
My attorney thought that while it was a serious concern, since he is the biological father, that if I showed up and showed the guardian ad litem how I'm providing Lennon with a stable home, he wouldn't get it.
And he was right. I thought that was the end of it. "
The color drains from her face. She sinks onto the couch like her legs won't hold her anymore.
"So what does that have to do with the phone call?"
"Turns out, that wasn't the end of it. We found out on Tuesday that the judge ruled in our favor after reviewing the report. But he filed a second emergency petition. This time, he claimed I was sleeping with the nanny, putting Lennon in an unsafe home environment."
"What? He knows?" Her voice comes out barely above a whisper.
"Warren, my attorney, called me early yesterday morning, so that is why I was yelling. I was using Chris's words out of anger and fear, and that was wrong. I don't think of you like that. I would never reduce what's between us to that."
She stares at me, mouth slightly open. "I don't even know what to say. How would he even know about me? Why would he care?"
"He hired a PI. He doesn’t care. He's grasping at straws, doing anything he can to win."
"Why haven't you told me?" Her voice hardens again.
I cross to the window, needing space from the accusation in her eyes. "I didn’t know what to do.”
She looks up at me, eyes shining with unshed tears. "If all that's true, why shut me out completely?"
Christ, I've messed this up.
"Because I don't know how to do this." I gesture between us. "I'm not good at talking."
She looks up, waiting for more.
"On top of all this, I've had forty-two nurses walk out of Good Samaritan, threatening our entire takeover.
My Denver office needs signatures on acquisition paperwork.
I closed on this house yesterday, which should be good news, but it was just one more thing I had to attend to. " I drag my hand across my face.
"If there was something there, if I was more than the nanny to you, then you could have let me help you work through all of this."
"You are the only thing that helped me get through all of this."
“The only problem is, I had no idea. That isn't the way this works."
"I told you, I'm not good at this."
"That's not good enough, Pope. You're a grown ass man. I can only do so much if I'm in the dark."
She's right. I don't even know how to respond to that. I still don't know how to do this, how to navigate all of this.
"And furthermore, those words. You said those words about me, even if you were only repeating his words. You didn't correct them."
I move closer, desperate for her to understand. "He called you 'the goddamned nanny' and made crude comments about us. I was furious at him, at the system that would even consider giving Lennon to someone like him. Never at you."
"I can't do this, Pope."
The raw honesty in her voice slices through me. I kneel in front of her, close enough to touch but not reaching yet.
"Please."
A tear finally escapes, sliding down her cheek. I can't stop myself from reaching up to brush it away. When she doesn't pull back, I gather her into my arms.
She buries her face against my shoulder, her body shaking with quiet sobs. I hold her tight, breathing in the scent of her hair, relief washing through me.
But there's still more I'm not saying. I haven’t told her about the photos, how explicit they are, how they'd humiliate her if they became public. I can't bring myself to tell her that part. Not yet.
She pulls back slightly, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry I've caused trouble for you and Lennon. I think it's best if we leave this be."
"No." The word bursts out sharper than I intended. My hands tighten on her arms. "Please, don't. Don't let Chris win like that."
Her eyes widen at my intensity.
"Trust me, Sloane. I need you to trust me."
She searches my face, looking for something. I hope she finds it.
"Will you give me a chance to show you that you can trust me?" I whisper.
Sloane's fingers curl lightly against my chest where she's pushed away. Her eyes are puffy, face flushed. The night air carries the distant sound of waves crashing on shore.
"I can't be what you need," she finally whispers.
The words hit like a physical blow. "You are what I need."
"Pope, I had no idea what was going on, what was swirling around in your life. Nothing. And now this stuff with your dad, with Lennon, and I'm still his nanny, even if I'm not just the nanny. It's just not the right time."
"That's not?—"
"Let me finish." Her voice is soft but firm. "This was never going to last. It was always temporary. Nine weeks. That was the deal."
The thought of going back to before, of losing her, makes me nauseous. Words I've never said to anyone tumble out before I can stop them.
"I love you."
I kiss her before she can respond, desperate and raw. For a moment, she melts against me, fingers gripping my shirt. Then she breaks away.
"Don’t say that." She shakes her head, eyes wide. "Not now. You’re just… reeling from everything."
"I know what I feel."
"No, you don’t." Her hands tremble. "Look at everything that’s happening. Your entire life has been flipped upside down. What matters right now is that little boy in there."
"That doesn't change how I feel about you."
She rubs her temple, tears threatening again. "I'll still be here for Lennon. I won't leave him. But we need boundaries, Pope. Real ones. For his sake. For all our sakes."
My throat tightens. I want to argue, to convince her we can find a way, but I see the resolve in her eyes. Pushing her now would only drive her further away.
"I understand." The words are gravel in my mouth. "Maybe with time, you'll trust me, you'll let me show you. But if you need me to respect boundaries, I will."
Sloane nods, wrapping her arms around herself against the night air. Or maybe against me.
"Thank you."
We sit perpendicular to each other, she on the sofa and I on the chair. The space between us impossible to cross.
"I should go upstairs," she says, but doesn't move.
"Yeah." I don't move either.
"Goodnight, Pope."
She stands and walks back to the kitchen, grabs her bag and water, and heads out of the room.
Her soft steps on the stairs somehow sound like the end of everything.