Page 6 of Sinful Nanny

We don’t speak, we just lay and I look up at the pictures that are pinned to the ceiling and my eyes settle on the one of Edward and a pretty blonde, a spitting image of Delilah.

“That’s my mummy,” she says softly, a smile on her face as I roll my head to look at her. “She’s an angel, she lives in her castle in the sky,” and my throat thickens, eyes sting.

“So is my mummy,” I whisper as a tear escapes and she rolls on her side, her little brows furrow as she presses her finger on my tear.

“Do you miss her?” I twist on my side and watch this beautiful little soul in front of me.

“Everyday.”

“Me too,” she sighs and rolls on her back as her fingers find mine and I never want to let her go.

How can this sweet little angel have me wrapped around her so tightly when I’ve only known her for a matter of hours.

Silence creeps around the room and after what feels like hours, I sigh.

“Shall we play barbies?” I give her a grin and excitement seeps from her as she jumps up, squealing as she runs for her dream house.

And just like that, all sadness is gone.

Not forgotten. Just tucked a little deeper inside my heart than before.

The restof the afternoon flew by and after three stories and two toilet trips, Delilah was settled and snuggled into bed. Pulling the door to, I feel dead on my feet. I walk slowly downstairs just as Edward walks in.

“Flora,” he smiles, closing the door softly behind him.

“Edward,” I give a curt nod as I continue down the stairs and towards the kitchen that runs across the back of the townhouse.

“How was your day?” I ask as I fill the kettle and pop it on to boil.

“Busy,” he groans, flopping onto the stool. I study him for a moment. Soft creases wrinkle at the corner of his eyes, his lips a little dry, eyes tired. “You?” he asks, looking around the tidy room.

“I had the best day,” and I smile without realising.

“Yeah?”

“Delilah is a precious soul,” I nod.

“She really is,” a heavy sigh vibrates through him.

His eyes burn into mine, the way his lips are parting and closing has me lingering a little longer to see if he’ll say anything, but he doesn’t.

I break our gaze by turning and making him a tea.

“Strong, no sugar right?” I memorized the way he made it this morning with a dash of milk.

“Right,” his voice is tight. Stirring his tea, I waltz over to him and place it on the breakfast bar.

“Your dinner is in the oven, plated up. Butter chicken and rice,” I step back.

“Delilah ate that?”

“Every last piece,” I hum as I busy myself.

“Well,” I see the way his brows raise in surprise.

“Laundry is just out the dryer and folded, I’ll get to the whites tomorrow.”

“Do you have to rush off?” he says just as I disappear into the hallway.