Hannah batted her lashes at me. “Oh, Thomas,” she said sweetly. “I just want what’s best for you and Brett.”
I stared at her. My anger was rolling over me in strong, palpable waves.
“I trust that you’ll let me make those decisions,” I said sharply. “Because I’m sure as fuck not going to let you start parenting my son.”
Hannah’s cheeks flushed and eventually, she dropped her gaze.
“Fine,” Hannah muttered. “God, I was only trying to help.”
“We’re done for the day,” I told her. “I’m going home to see Brett, he’s been waiting for me and I know I’ll be late if I don’t hurry.”
“Want me to come?” Hannah looked hopeful. “We can order a pizza, I’ll watch Brett while you work out?”
“No,” I said sharply. “I need to start spending more time with my son.”
Hannah looked at me expectantly.
“Alone,” I added in a sharp voice. “ Without you around, got it?”
Hannah nodded meekly. “Fine,” she snipped. “I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.”
I groaned and ran a hand through my hair. I hadn’t looked in a mirror all day, but I could tell that the stress was really getting to me. My skin felt puffy and old, and when I closed my eyes, a dull ache began to spread through my whole head.
I knew that I was going to have to do something about Hannah, but for the moment, I was stuck with her. I couldn’t find another personal assistant who would be as knowledgeable and helpful as Hannah – at least, not without weeks of searching. And with a big project coming up at work, I wasn’t going to be able to take that kind of time off. I supposed I could always organize a committee and put them in charge of finding me a new person, but that would have to wait until things calmed down, just a little.
And Marlene! She was a fucking cipher – she always had been. When we’d first divorced, she’d been almost pleased to be out on her own. But I could tell that it was taking a toll on her, too. She obviously hated the fact that she was “forced” to work in order to maintain her luxe condo, and I knew she probably blamed me.
I also knew that I shouldn’t care. But it was difficult – after all, we had a child together. And Brett was the most important part of my life. I wasn’t going to write off his mother just because she’d been a shitty wife. That would have been incredibly unfair to him.
It was dark by the time I got home. Isabelle, Brent’s nanny, was just starting dinner in the kitchen and the delicious smell of chicken enchiladas flooded my senses when I stepped in the door. When she saw me, she smiled.
“Hi Mr. Thomas,” Isabelle said. She grinned at me. “We had us a nice long day, didn’t we baby?”
Brett nodded and smiled. Isabelle had been with us since shortly before the divorce, and Brett really cared for her. Some of my friends had joked about her – she was young, curvy, and a lot of fun to be around. But dating the nanny was such a cliché…I wasn’t going to become that kind of man.
“I’m glad,” I said.
“Dinner almost ready,” Isabelle said, swinging her hips as she flung a dish towel onto the counter. “Just bake for twenty more minutes and you’re good. I’m going to clean up and then I’ll head out.”
I nodded. “You want a ride home?”
“No, thank you Mr. Thomas,” Isabelle said.
“Alright, then,” I said. “Thanks for everything.” I pulled out my wallet and handed her a crisp fifty. “This is for a good week,” I said, handing the folded bill to Isabelle. She tucked it inside her pocket and smiled.
“Wow, thanks!”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said dryly. “Work is really ramping up, and I think things are only going to get busier from here on out. You okay with spending a lot of time here next week?”
Isabelle nodded. “We’ll have fun, won’t we, Brett?”
“Yeah!” Brett looked ecstatic. It was hard not to take it personally – he was obviously closer to Isabelle than me or Marlene. But I knew I shouldn’t care – at least the boy had someone to be a positive role model, even if she was the nanny.
Isabelle grabbed her coat and left, leaving a wake of heavy orchid perfume behind her. As soon as she’d left, Brett seemed to clam up. He hopped onto a barstool at the island and slumped over a piece of paper, furiously scribbling with a crayon.
“Hey buddy,” I said, walking over and taking off my jacket. I loosened my tie. “How’s it hanging?”
Brett barely glanced up. “Fine,” he said.