“I’m not going to be your nanny,” I say softly as I cross my arms over my chest. “Why not?” she asks. “Why don’t you want to be my nanny?” “Well, it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that…” My voice trails, unable to find a good enough reason for her. “Your papa is going to find you a very good nanny. I’m sure a lot of people have applied.” “He’ll pay you a lot of money,” she says, and it makes me chuckle. “And you can stay in our extra bedroom. And we can bake cookies and have sleepovers and play games.” “That sounds very fun,” I reply softly, which isn’t a lie.
