30. Pope
THIRTY
Pope
The earliest easing of the black sky sneaks through the large window facing the ocean as I hunker over spreadsheets, my coffee long gone cold.
It’s three-thirty in the morning, and sleep wasn’t happening, so I figured I ought to be productive.
My phone vibrates against the desk. Caleb’s name flashes on screen.
"It's not even four AM. This better be important."
"Department of Health just flagged us." Caleb’s voice is thin and stretched, like he hasn’t slept in days. "They're sending inspectors based on the walkout complaints."
My fingers tighten around the phone. "When?"
"Tomorrow. They're targeting specialty units, including the ICU, pediatrics, and cardio. Checking staffing compliance."
I press my thumb and forefinger against the edges of my forehead, trying to force my breathing to stay even. "And if we fail?"
"We lose accreditation for those units."
"Which means we lose the entire hospital conversion." The words are bitter as I say them.
"Pretty much. Without those specialty units, our membership model collapses. No one pays seventy-five grand a year for strep tests and flu shots.”
I stand, pacing to the window. Dawn hasn't fully broken yet, but the faint outline of palm trees against a navy sky is slowly emerging. In the reflection of the window, I’m hollow-eyed and hunted.
"Pull staff from lower-acuity units. Every nurse with specialty training goes to critical departments. Call in favors, bribe people if you have to."
"Already on it. But we're short at least?—"
"Then hire agency nurses. I don't care what it costs."
"Pope, we're talking triple rates. Maybe quadruple with the emergency timing."
"Did I stutter? Hire them. All of them." I keep my voice even and controlled. Inside, rage builds like a pressure system.
“Got it.”
“Draft PR statements reassuring patients about continuity of care. Get security protocols in place. I want people in there, no matter what you have to pay them in the short term.”
I end the call before he can respond, tossing the phone onto my desk. It immediately buzzes again. Warren's name fills the screen this time.
What fresh hell is this?
I swipe my thumb across the screen, bracing for whatever new disaster Warren's about to dump on my lap.
"Give me good news for once." My voice is more of a bark, even to my own ears.
"Chris filed a motion for discovery." Warren skips the pleasantries. "Broad discovery. Invasive discovery."
A chill crawls up my spine as I sink back into my chair. "Define invasive. What does that mean?”
“It means he can see anything, including photos, texts, emails, he can interview all relavent parties. If the judge grants it, he can subpoena everyone in Lennon's life, including Sloane."
My blood turns to ice. "Sloane has nothing to do with this."
"Chris's attorney is arguing otherwise. They want to depose her about your relationship, your behavior around Lennon, and supervision practices." Warren pauses. "And the nature of your sexual relationship."
"Absolutely fucking not." The words come out like bullets.
"They'll dig into her professional background, question her judgment, paint her as unethical. She'd be labeled as someone who sleeps with employers, which could devastate her career prospects in pediatric therapy."
The rage simmers just beneath my skin, threatening to boil over. I picture Sloane across a conference table, Chris's snake of an attorney asking about intimate details, twisting everything pure into something sordid.
"Can we block it?"
"Potentially. We can request a protective order." Warren's voice lowers. "But it would require a sworn statement from you that there is no ongoing romantic relationship or cohabitation between you and Ms. Brennan."
“Easy. Done.”
"And it has to be true." The implication hangs heavy.
I clear my throat and absorb everything he’s telling me. I don’t have words right now. We aren’t currently sleeping together. Hell, she will hardly look at me.
But I was hoping to convince her otherwise.
"Perjury would destroy your credibility with the court. We'd lose Lennon."
I stare at the family photo on my desk. It’s one of me, Val, and Hart at Christmas two years ago.
"So, I state under oath that we aren't involved."
"Only if that's accurate." Warren's voice is carefully neutral.
Silence stretches between us as I weigh the options. Either way, I lose her. Either I cut her out of my life completely, or I watch her get dragged through humiliating depositions that could ruin her future.
At least one option protects her.
"Draft the protective order." My voice comes out cold, detached. "I'll sign the statement."
"Pope—"
“I will only state what is accurate. I won’t lie. It's the right call. Chris doesn't get to destroy her, too."
"You're certain?" Warren probes. "The court takes sworn statements seriously. There can't be any ambiguity here."
I pace to the window, watching the first hint of sunrise stain the horizon pink. "No ambiguity. We ended things."
"This is the cleanest path forward." Warren's voice takes on that soothing tone attorneys use when they're telling you to swallow something bitter. "Chris can't drag her into this if there's nothing there to question. But that’s only if the judge accepts your affadavit.”
"I get it." My fingers press against the cool glass. "It's what's best for Lennon. For Sloane. For the case."
"I'll have the papers to you by noon."
"Fine."
"Pope—"
"We're done here." I end the call with a sharp tap.
The silence crashes down around me. No more words, no more strategy, just the weight of what I've done settling on my chest.
This is protection. This is care. This is necessary.
I repeat these facts to myself, but they don't stop the feeling that I've just performed some kind of amputation, cutting away something vital without anesthesia.
My fingers move automatically, scrolling to find another number. I need to act, to keep moving forward. Standing still means feeling, and I can't afford that luxury.
The call connects on the third ring.
"Elite Nanny Services, this is Vanessa Williams."
"It's Pope Carrigan." I clear my throat, finding the businessman's voice I've perfected over the years. "There's been a development in my guardianship case that requires immediate attention."
"Mr. Carrigan, good morning. How can I help?"
I brace my forearm against the window casing and drop my forehead onto it, the wood pressing into my skin as a lone jogger moves down the beach below. "I need to discuss a change to Ms. Brennan’s placement."
"Sure. Tell me what you're thinking."
"I'm comfortable handling Lennon's nighttime care now, so I'd like to change her role to fixed hours. No live-in requirement."
A pause stretches through the phone. "That's quite a significant change to the arrangement, Mr. Carrigan. Is everything okay? We already have a signed contract, so we will need to review how you want to adjust pay."
"Everything's fine. Great, actually. She's been so good for Lennon. It's just the natural progression. As far as pay, I'm fine keeping that as it was agreed."
Vanessa clears her throat. "I should inform you that Ms. Brennan contacted us earlier this week about potentially ending her contract early. That is a possibility if you’d like to go that route, too.”
The air leaves my lungs in a silent rush. My grip tightens on the phone until my knuckles turn white.
"She did." It's not a question. My voice has gone flat, emotionless.
"Yes. She mentioned another job opportunity. She didn't give specifics, but she was inquiring about the terms for early termination."
Of course she was. While I've been tearing myself apart trying to protect her, she's been planning her exit strategy. The thought burns like acid.
"I see." I straighten my shoulders, slipping fully into the cold, efficient businessman I need to be.
"In that case, please proceed with finding a replacement for the remaining weeks.
And notify Ms. Brennan that she's no longer required to live in, just standard hours, eight to six, until someone can be found to step in for the remainder of Lennon's time here. I don’t know the time frame, but we are likely going to need to extend the amount of time a little bit, so starting fresh makes sense.”
"Mr. Carrigan, if I may. Changes like this can be disruptive for children, especially those experiencing trauma. Lennon has formed an attachment to?—"
"I'm well aware of my brother's emotional needs." The edge in my voice could cut glass. "This is what's best for everyone involved."
"Very well." Her voice cools to match mine. "I'll update Ms. Brennan's contract immediately and begin searching for a replacement. Would you like me to handle communication with her, or will you be doing that yourself?"
The thought of facing Sloane, of watching her reaction when she learns I'm formally pushing her away, is unbearable.
"Your office can handle it."
"Understood. I'll call you with potential replacements by tomorrow afternoon."
"Fine."
I end the call, staring at the phone in my hand. She was already leaving, already planning her escape, so this makes everything I have to do to keep her safe and to make sure Lennon doesn't end up with his father easier.
Something between fury and grief rises in my chest, burning like hot coals. I set the phone down with deliberate control before I give in to the urge to hurl it across the room.
The rest of the day blurs into one long fire drill: calls with Caleb about inspectors, a board member threatening to pull support, Warren circling back with strategy.
By the time I shut my laptop, the house is quiet. I’d heard Sloane and Lennon heading upstairs hours ago, their laughter trailing through the hall, and forced myself to stay put. Drowning in work instead of following is the way it has to be.
Now it’s past ten, and the spreadsheets on my desk are a blur I can’t make sense of. A glass of sparkling water sits beside my untouched dinner plate.
I drag my hand across my face. Fuck, I'm tired.
Pushing away from my desk, I pace around the office and end up at the window. From here, I can see the corner of the guest suite where Sloane's light is off. Is she sleeping? Did she leave?
Hell, I have no idea if Vanessa already told her or not. Our communication went from not that great to nonexistent. It's best this way.
The irony doesn't escape me. I've built my entire career on precise calculation, on making the hard choices others wouldn't. I've gutted entire hospital departments, fired executives, and restructured million-dollar organizations without blinking.
So why does this one decision, this single, fucking necessary choice, nag at me and make me doubt everything I’ve ever believed?
My phone buzzes and I almost decide not to look at it, but that isn't in my DNA. I'm relieved to see it's Valerie, hoping for some colorful relief from this powder keg that is my life.
While I still consider letting it go to voicemail because she takes a lot of energy, I answer because I need something lighter right about now. “Hey, Val.”
“Pope Carrigan,” Val crows, her voice rich with that theatrical flair only she can pull off. “My son, the ghost. Hart and I decided if you didn't answer this time, we were getting in our RV and driving down to make sure you hadn't been gobbled up by the Palm Beach vultures.”
Despite myself, I smirk. “Ever the drama queen.”
“I've earned my crown. Listen up. I live three hours down the damn road now, and you’ve been there for weeks with no visits. We’re coming down to see you and your new palace.
And don’t you dare tell me no again. Hart's already picked out a bottle of wine that costs more than my first car just for the occasion.”
“I don’t drink.”
“Not for you, you prick. For me.”
I rub a hand over my jaw, staring out at the ocean’s black horizon. “Now isn’t a good time. The hospital’s on fire, and I’ve got custody stuff with Lennon hanging over me.”
“And a woman,” she says, just like that.
My head drops forward. “Why do you always go there?”
“Because you sound like you swallowed glass, and it’s not just hospital board meetings doing that to you. So, who is she? Does she need a talking to by your mom?”
“Remember when you told me I should probably get a replacement nanny sooner rather than later?”
“Jesus, Pope. You didn't, did you?”
“No. Once I saw how good she was with Lennon, I couldn’t. He needed her. I thought I could shove aside my awkwardness.”
“And?”
I drag a hand down my face. “Turns out, awkwardness wasn’t the problem. It was the chemistry.”
There’s a pause, then Val groans. “Tell me you didn’t sleep with her.”
“Val—”
“Pope. That is so cliché. I thought you were smarter than that.”
“I don’t need a lecture,” I mutter.
“So what's the problem? Does she have a husband or something?”
“Stop. Chris caught wind,” I snap. “Now he’s trying to use it against me. He’s painting me as unfit, claiming I can’t even keep Lennon’s environment safe because I can’t keep it in my pants.” My voice roughens. “The irony would be funny if it weren’t so fucking dangerous.”
“Want me to tell the judge firsthand what kind of ‘safe environment’ Chris Carrigan runs? And how good he knows how to keep it in his pants? Because I can.”
“No.” I rub my temple. “That won’t help. My attorney says the only move is ending it, making it clean, and finding a new nanny. I told the agency to replace her. Should’ve done it when you told me to.”
“Imagine that. Mom was right,” she says dryly. Then, gentler: “So what’s the problem? You did what you had to.”
I stare out the dark window, throat tight. “The problem is, she's the best thing that could have happened to Lennon."
"The best thing to have happened to Lennon, or to you?"
"I care about her. Too much. And if Chris ever realized just how much, he’d make it his mission to ruin her. Just for sport.”
Silence on the line, then Val exhales. “Oh, baby. You love her, don’t you?”
“Mom.”
“I can hear it in your voice.”
“I can’t go there. Not now. Not when Lennon’s at stake. This is what I have to do, for him, and for her.”
There’s a long pause, then her voice sharpens. “Fine. Hart and I are coming this weekend. I won’t take no for an answer. I need to be there for you.”
“Val, I’m sorry, but I can’t handle more chaos right now. I need?—”
“Oh no, connection’s bad,” she sing-songs. “Friday. Bye, honey!”
The line goes dead.
I stare at the phone, fury and exhaustion coiling tight in my chest. As if I needed one more complication.
And just like that, the universe decides to see how much more I can take before I break.