Page 8 of The Scrum-Half (Lincoln Knights #3)

Matty

“So let me get this straight. Not only did you monitor the new nanny through the cameras, but you also messaged him about what you could see as well as calling him every hour and making him adhere to a, frankly, fucking ridiculous list of demands. All because Jack had a slightly snotty nose and a bit of a temperature?” Hannah asked, glaring at me through the screen and reminding me exactly why most people who saw her coming started quaking in their shoes despite her corporate Barbie aesthetic.

It was making me question why the fuck I’d thought it was a good idea to tell her about everything that had happened today.

Maybe because I’d hoped she would be on my side instead of eviscerating me.

“My God, Matty, I love you but you can be a right prick sometimes,” she added.

“I was just concerned! Jack’s not even three.

He could’ve become seriously ill at any moment,” I said as I ran my fingers lightly through my beard and glanced around the sitting room, which was weirdly tidy.

Spotless in fact. But I was sure there’d been toys all over the floor when I’d left this morning and a selection of sticky marks on the coffee table from Jack’s cup.

“And do you think…”

“Harper.”

“And do you think Harper wouldn’t tell you if things changed? Did you think he’d let Jack suffer?” She raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows, her questions hanging in the air between us.

“No,” I said. “He’d never do that.”

“Then why don’t you trust him?”

“Because I don’t know him!” I snapped, my exasperation spilling out of me. “Yeah, he’s qualified—probably the most qualified person I’ve ever met—but that doesn’t mean anything. Lots of qualified people are shit at their jobs. You know that better than me.”

“I know, but he also came through one of the best-rated nanny agencies in the UK. And you’ve already told me what a nice person he is, plus it’s obvious Jack adores him,” Hannah said.

Her expression softened for a second, the bright LA sunshine visible through the office window behind her.

She was right in the middle of her busy day, but she’d still made time for two calls: one to say goodnight to Jack and the other to rip me a new one.

I could have managed without the second.

“Okay, let me frame this another way,” she continued, sipping a large cup of coffee which I knew had enough caffeine in it to flatten a horse.

“Why are you okay with me taking Jack for whole weekends once or twice a month but not with Harper looking after him every day when he’s currently living in the same house?

It’s not a trick question. I’m just asking. ”

I frowned, not sure I understood her point. “You’re his mum.”

“Yeah, but let’s be honest, Matt. I know fuck all about kids.

You trust me to take Jack but I have no idea what I’m doing.

I’m just winging it. If Jack came down with something, I wouldn’t know if it was a cold, tonsillitis, or pneumonia.

I love Jack and I do my best whenever I see him, but I’m horrifically out of my depth.

That never bothers you, though, and you can’t say it does because I know you—even if you didn’t say anything, your face would tell me everything.

Harper is a million times more qualified than me to look after Jack, so why do you trust me over him? ”

My frown deepened, my whole face pulling as her words sank painfully into my skin. I hated the point she was making and wished I’d never said anything. “Yeah, but… I… it’s just…”

“You can try and justify this however you want, but you know I’m right.” She was firm but not unkind—she never was. She’d put up with my shit for years, and maybe in another universe we’d have worked as a couple instead of being better as friends.

“Are you going to gloat?” I asked, my attempt to lighten the mood falling flatter than a pancake, my sourness worse than a whole bottle of artificial lemon juice.

“No, not today.”

“So you’re going to at some point?”

“Maybe. If you get your head out of your arse and stop being such a dick.” She sipped her coffee again and smiled. “Harper knows more about raising kids than I ever will, so trust him. Please.”

“I’ll try.”

“You better, because I swear if you get us blacklisted from the agency by forcing another nanny to quit, I will never let you forget it.”

“Understood,” I said. And I believed her because once Hannah decided something, standing in her way just meant you’d get steamrollered.

She did have a very good point, though, loath as I was to admit it.

Harper was the ideal person to look after Jack, both on paper and in person, so I should be jumping for joy and getting on with training without a care in the world.

But I kept getting stuck and pushing back, picking holes and creating problems where none existed.

It wasn’t making mountains out of molehills. It was making mountains out of a tiny fragment of dried mud that had dropped off my boots.

“You know, you can talk to me about whatever’s going on in that head of yours,” Hannah said. “Although you’ve only got ten minutes because then I’ve got a meeting.”

I shook my head, not wanting to dump more of my problems on her. “You’re fine. Tell me what you’re up to. Still enjoying LA?”

“It’s okay. I don’t really get to see much of it. The whole situation here is a mess, so the hours are long, but only another eight days. Then I’ll be back.”

“Don’t work yourself into the ground, please. Take some time off one night. Go out.”

“I am! And one of the girls here is taking me to an art show tomorrow night,” Hannah said.

“You don’t know anything about art.”

“I can still enjoy it! Oh, and we’re going to see an ice hockey game at the weekend.

I have no idea about the rules, but I’m assuming it’s like rugby—you hit the opposition very hard and try and score more points than them.

Only there’s fewer tiny shorts and it’s played on ice.

” She glanced down at her desk and sighed.

“Crap, I have to go. Someone wants me. I’ll call Jack tomorrow.

And apologise to Harper for being a dickhead. ”

“Yeah,” I said vaguely. “I’ll speak to you then.”

I hung up and stroked my beard, sitting with my thoughts for a while longer.

The way Hannah had so casually admitted she didn’t know what she was doing had floored me because I desperately needed to pretend that I did.

I didn’t know why. Maybe it helped me feel like I had a handle on my life or something.

Logically, I knew it was impossible for me to know everything—what parent ever did?—or be in control twenty-four seven, but it didn’t stop the feeling from being there.

The one thing I did know was that I wanted to be a good dad and every time I looked at Harper, with his serene sense of calm, his bright smile, his endless certificates, and his ability to seemingly handle everything, all I felt was a pit of despair opening up inside my chest. There was no way I’d ever be able to measure up to him.

That was probably why I’d pushed all the nannies into quitting. Because I couldn’t compare myself to someone who wasn’t there.

“Fuck,” I muttered, running my hand through my hair. “I really am a prick.”

I didn’t know how to deal with these feelings, but I supposed acknowledging them was the first step. And then what? Apologise to Harper, explain a little, and pray he didn’t pack his bags and run screaming. After all, who wanted to work for someone who constantly compared themselves to you?

Whether I liked it or not, though, the apology would have to be the first step. I’d figure out the rest later.

But before all of that, I was going to eat ice cream in bed and catch up on the latest series of Drag Stars UK until I passed out. At least then if Jack woke up at three, I’d already be in bed, ready to be climbed over, cuddled, and coughed on.

I really hoped whatever he’d come down with wasn’t contagious.

It took me nearly five days to pluck up the courage to apologise to Harper, during which we maintained an uneasy truce.

We both pretended nothing had happened despite it hanging in a black cloud over our heads, and it helped there was a weekend in the middle where I could take Jack out of the house and Harper could disappear off to explore the local area.

By Monday, even I was losing patience with myself.

Every morning I told myself I’d do it that day, and every night when I got into bed, I cursed myself for not saying anything. And when I did finally say it, it was almost by accident.

I came back from training on Tuesday evening to find Jack and Harper in the back garden, Jack trying to do somersaults and cartwheels on the grass, giggling wildly whenever he landed in a heap before leaping up to try again.

Nothing fazed him. If he fell down, he simply got back up and tried again, something I did easily in rugby but had forgotten how to do in other aspects of my life.

“Look at you! That’s amazing,” I said as I walked out to flop down on the grass near Harper, who was making daisy chains from the small flowers that had started popping up across the lawn thanks to the unseasonably warm weather.

It made me very glad that I’d taken the advice of the local gardener I’d hired to let the grass grow slightly longer and keep things like the clover and daisies that’d been added to it by a previous owner.

“Watch me, Daddy! I can do ’nastics,” Jack said, running up to give me a slightly sticky kiss before dashing away again, his palms and knees stained green from his efforts.

“I’m watching, I promise.”

“Harper, you have to watch too.”