Page 65 of Nanny For The Billionaire Bosshole

“What? No!” I say, following that lie with a truth. “I just don’t like hospitals.”

“Today you’re here for a good reason,” she says, rubbing my chest.

The nurses get off the elevator on the fourth floor. Now only one floor separates us from her mom, and my nerves are really kicking in.

As we get off, she pulls me close to kiss me with all the love and passion she has, until we both are gasping for air and our faces are flushed red.

“Stop being silly,” she whispers into my lips. “She is going to love you.”

“And what about me?” Anna crosses her arms and pouts.

“Oh, of course she will love you! Everybody does, don’t they?” Joyce says, patting Anna’s chin.

She takes Anna and me by the hand and guides us through the hallways, reaching the open door of a room teaming with life. A doctor and two nurses have brought flowers and balloons to the woman sitting in the wheelchair.

“Mom!” Joyce goes to hug her mom, gently covering her face with kisses.

It’s hard to tell her age. She looks so frail due to chemo, but I can tell she was a mother young. I can see how pencil-thin her arms are, but still, she stands proud, wearing a colorful scarf on her head.

I shake memories of Andrea away and remind myself this is a happy occasion.

“Is this Logan?” She looks at me and smiles in awe. “Joy, he’s so handsome! Come here son, I want to see you!”

I kneel on the other side of the chair, and Joyce’s mother touches my temple and then my collar, with small hands so cold I almost want to ask for a thermal blanket for her.

“Hi, Logan, I’m Cora,” she says, her cheeks blushing.

“Hi, Cora, I’m Logan,” I say, holding back nervous laughter.

I take her hand to kiss, and Cora goes as bright red as a tomato. Joyce looks at us and smiles, looking very pleased.

Anna finally enters the room, coming to cling to my pants as she takes a good look at the new people.

“And what’s your name, sweetheart?” Cora leans forward to inspect Anna.

My baby hides behind me, and I reach for her hand and bring her back out in front.

“This is Anna. Anna, this is Mrs. Andrews,” I say.

Anna looks up at me, looking confused, “I thought she was Joyce’s mom?” she says.

Cora laughs, Joyce follows suit, and in the end, I laugh too. Anna buries her face into my pants again, and I pick her up, kissing her cheek to cheer her up.

“You are right. I am Joyce’s mom, and you can call me Cora, darling,” she says with compassion. Noticing that Anna continues to hide her face, she asks, “Are you scared of me, sweetie?”

I look at Anna intently, waiting for her reply. I am not sure what she'll do, but she shakes her head. I’m not sure if she’s telling the truth or just being polite, but I feel that this was a moment of growth for her.

“Are you sick?” Anna asks, looking concerned.

“Not as much as I used to be, Anna. But yes, I’m still sick.” Cora replies.

“Are you going to die?” Anna asks, much to my shock.

I take Anna out of the room while Joyce stays back and says her goodbyes to the doctor and nurses inside.

I sit on the bench outside with Anna on my lap. At the moment, she looks way too serous for her age — that’s the exact face she makes when she thinks she’s in trouble.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks.

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