“You’re not suitable for us,” the man snapped irritably.
“But you didn’t even ask anything…” My words fell into nothingness.
Having shoved the documents onto the coffee table, the man turned to the housekeeper and, raising his eyebrows, growled:
“You said this is the best agency? Why instead of a proper nanny did you send me this?”
Without even looking at me, he waved his hand and, grimacing, pressed his lips together.
“This is the best agency,” the woman stammered, clearly nervous, and shot me a meaningful look as if demanding support.
And what could I do? By now, I didn’t really want to.
Shrugging, I started to get up from the couch, but then a little child burst into the living room, suddenly stopping and looking around at everyone present with confusion. When he looked at the owner of the house, he frowned—then he looked at me and…
His chubby lips trembled; his eyelashes fluttered. Throwing away the soft toy, he ran over, climbed into my lap, and wrapped his chubby little hands around my neck.
“Mommy!”—his cry sent goosebumps across my skin, and on autopilot I hugged his small body.