Page 356 of Manhattan Bossholes

With Snug I could listen to opposing opinions because being wrong in business happened to everyone sometimes. You listened, learned, fixed your mistakes, and moved on. But with Catie, I didn’t want to make a single mistake. And that meant I’d dismissed Olivia, instead of hearing her out.

As I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I was surprised to hear my mum’s voice. She sat at the kitchen table with Catie. Catie was picking at a slice of soda bread, her face glum.

“What’s this?” I asked. “Why the sad face, Catie?”

Mum threw me an exasperated look. “Well, you fired her nanny.”

“What?” I shook my head. “That’s rubbish. We had a disagreement.”

Mum pursed her lips. “Well, she thinks you fired her. She was practically crying when she hugged Catie here goodbye.”

I felt carved out, unsettled. “She’s…gone?”

Fuck. I couldn’t believe she’d just leave like that. Without saying goodbye to me. Without giving me a piece of her mind.

Where the hell would she go? She didn’t know anyone in Ireland.

“She can’t go,” I said. “I need her.”

“You best get to groveling then,” Mum said. “She’s taking the bus to Dublin. If you leave now, you might be able to catch her.”

I started to leave, then turned around, crossed to Catie, and kissed her on the top of her head. “I’ll fix this, sweetheart. Promise.”

Then I raced out to go catch my runaway nanny.

When I screeched to a halt in front of the bus stop, I breathed a sigh of relief. Olivia was still there. She sat cross-legged on the bus-stop bench, eyes closed, head tilted back to lean against the back of the bus shelter. She didn’t open her eyes when I got out and slammed the car door behind me. She’d retreated to her own little world.

I was used to thinking of her as gregarious, perpetually energized, and open. I’d lived with her less than a week, but I already knew her emotions had a way of spilling over until they infected the whole house. Seeing her all contained like this…it felt wrong. I wanted to hurt the bastard who did this to her.

Except the bastard was me.

This isn’t about you, I reminded myself. This is about Catie.

“Olivia.”

Her eyes flew open, and she yanked her headphones out of her ears. She scrambled to her feet. “Declan. What are you doing here?”

“You’re the best nanny for Catie, and she deserves the best,” I said. “So you have the job until Sinead finishes rehab. No more trial period. It’s yours.”

Olivia didn’t say anything. No happy exclamation. No sassy comment about how she knew I’d come around. She just watched me.

I gestured to the car. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

“Declan…” she said, making no move to gather up her things.

Shit, I thought. How badly had I messed this up?

“I’ll give you a raise,” I said. “Name your price.”

“It’s not about the money,” Olivia said, which was such an Olivia thing to say.

“Then what is it?” I asked, impatient. All I wanted was to move on, forget any of this had happened, but I knew Olivia wouldn’t let it be that easy.

She twisted her right hand back and forth around her left wrist. Like she was nervous about whatever she needed to say. “I can handle it if we disagree sometimes. But I can’t handle working for someone who doesn’t listen to me, or for someone who makes decisions based on what’s easy for them, instead of what’s best for the kid.”

I took a step closer to her. “I have never made a decision about Catie based on what’s easiest for me. I might have made mistakes. But that was never the reason.”

“Then why?” Olivia protested. “Why were you so intent on avoiding a difficult conversation? She’s tough enough to handle it.”