Worst Case (Michael Bennett 3)

I didn’t say anything.

“It is, Mike. It’s definitely the nanny, whether you realize it or not. Oh, well.”

She kissed me for the last time then. She grabbed my lapel and slammed her lips into mine viciously. She seemed so warm this close. I wanted to get closer. I don’t think I can properly express how much I wanted to ride that elevator up.

Then Emily even more viciously shoved me away from her. She actually kicked me in the knee with a high heel to get me moving out of the elevator car.

“Your loss, cop,” she spat, extremely pissed and extremely hot with her blouse tails out, her flushed cheeks, and red hair mussed. “Your fucking loss, Bennett, you goddamn asshole.”

My breath went away as I watched the vision of Emily Parker erased by the elevator door.

My loss, I thought to myself.

“Damn fucking right,” I said to the doorman on my way out.

Chapter 99

I WAS STILL feeling no pain as I got home. There were streamers and a hallway full of balloons. An extra-large Carvel sheet cake was defrosting in the fridge. Seamus, master of ceremonies for MC’s surprise bash, held court in the kitchen, directing the decorating and food prep.

“But, Grandpa, if this is a party, who’s going to DJ?” Shawna said.

“Who do you think?” Seamus said, offended. “Sister Sheilah doesn’t call me ‘Father Two Turntables and a Microphone’ for nothing, you know.”

“What about the clown, Grandpa?” Chrissy, our baby, wanted to know. “And I don’t see any balloon animals.”

“It’s on the list, child. Please, have ye no faith?” Seamus said, lifting his clipboard. “Now, Julia. How close are we with the pigs in a blanket?”

When everything was ready, I called upstairs to Mary Catherine’s cell phone.

“Mary, I just got a call into work, and Seamus is nowhere to be found. Could you come down for emergency babysitting?”

“Give me five minutes, Mike,” she said sadly.

She was there in three.

“Hello?” Mary Catherine said as she stepped slowly into the darkened apartment.

I hit the lights.

“Surprise!” we yelled.

Mary Catherine started crying as all the kids lined up and handed her their gifts with a hug. There were a lot of Starbucks cards and World’s Best Teacher mugs. When Hallmark starts its World’s Best Nanny line, we’ll be the first customers. I thought MC was going to need resuscitation when Chrissy handed over her present: a homemade salt-dough doll of Chrissy herself.

“How old are you now?” I said when I caught Mary alone in the kitchen.

“That’s a rude question to ask a lady,” Mary Catherine said.

“Nineteen?” I guessed. “No, wait. Twenty-two?”

“I’m thirty, Mike. So there. Are you happy?”

I was genuinely surprised. MC looked like a college kid. So that explained it, her nuttiness. Turning thirty. Women didn’t like that or something, right?

“Well, at least you’re calling me Mike again instead of Mr. Bennett. I must have done something right. Saints preserve us.”

I produced the gift I had gotten on the way home from Emily’s hotel. Striemer Jewelers on 47th was actually closed when I arrived, but the owner, Marvin, who was working late, owed me a favor.

“If this is about our, eh, collision, all is forgiven, Mike,” she said, staring at the small box. “I’ve already forgotten it.”