by Pratt, Lulu
It was all working out perfectly. The previous day, I’d gone home to talk to my brother and make sure things with him were okay. He was happy for me, claiming he could see the happiness written all over my face. I couldn’t deny it, but I had something serious I wanted to talk to him about, so I told him to sit down.
Before I could even speak the words, he guessed it. “You want to move in with Ford, don’t you?” he’d asked me. When I told him I did, he nodded and said it was about time I tried living without him.
I still couldn’t believe he had given me his blessing, but there was no reason to further delay my decision. Ford had wanted me to think on it, and I had. This was my fairy tale unfolding right in front of me. I didn’t want to put it off any longer.
I’d had one of the best days ever yesterday, preparing a meal for Ford and then relaxing and falling asleep together. Now, with another day off, I planned to bake an elaborate cake to share my decision with Ford.
He’d been overly impressed with the simple chocolate cake I made for dessert, but this was going to take much longer. Once I was finally able to pull myself from the bed, I hopped in a quick shower and brushed my teeth. Thankfully, I had a bag full of clothes to change into, most of them for hanging around the house.
Ford asked if I wanted to go out for a night on the town, but I told him I’d rather spend it inside with him. He made a joke about my sexual appetite, but it wasn’t just because of our insane chemistry in the bedroom. I loved relaxing with him, learning more about his life, and talking until we tired ourselves out. I wanted to know everything about him and I wanted him to know everything about me.
We’d both agreed that we wanted no secrets between us. And from the way we talked, I doubted there would be room for any. We could spend hours talking about the smallest details of our lives, and it never got old to me. There was no detail too small.
The kitchen was spotless, despite the mess I’d made cooking. Ford insisted on cleaning everything, claiming it was his part for the best roast chicken he’d ever had. I tried to hide my blush, but now as I began pulling out my ingredients, I was grateful. I couldn’t bake in a cluttered kitchen, and yesterday, I’d made a total mess.
As always, I lined my ingredients up, one by one, double checking my mental recipe before I began any mixing. I’d just confirmed I had everything when a loud bang from the front of the house abruptly caught my attention. It sounded like a collision of some sort, so I put on a pair of slippers and made my way to the front door to investigate.
When I opened the door, there was a silver Honda in the driveway, with a blonde woman standing beside it. She was holding onto a small child, who looked ready to drop from her arms any second. To her left was a stroller sitting on the ground, which I assumed had made the loud banging sound that frightened me.
“Do you need some help?” I asked, slowly making my way down the front steps. The woman looked up at me for the first time. She was gorgeous, with a full face of make-up, like she’d just stepped off the runway. Even her clothes reminded me of a model – a short mini dress with sky-high heels weren’t your typical mom attire, but she looked good in them.
“Oh great, I was hoping someone was home.” The woman sighed with relief as though she had come to visit me. Squinting, I tried my best to recognize any resemblance, but there was none. I was certain I’d never met her before, but her comfortability with me made me question myself.
The gorgeous woman kicked the stroller in frustration as the baby girl wiggled desperately to free herself from her loose grasp. Awkwardly gripping the child just before she slipped from her hands, she looked annoyed as the baby began to cry.
“Here,” the woman pushed the child into my arms before I could object. “Take her for a second.”
I couldn’t believe my eyes or ears, confused as to what was going on. Before I could ask her who she was, the woman was complaining as she continued her fight with the stroller.
“I hate these baby things. I wish I didn’t need them,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. Suddenly the stroller collapsed into a neat square and she smirked in celebration before reaching for the child.
The woman moved to the back of the car, carrying the baby in one hand and reaching for the stroller with the other. With a click of a button, the trunk opened and she clumsily launched the stroller and retrieved a Louis Vuitton bag, swinging it over her shoulder as the trunk closed on its own.
Watching in awe, I caught the eyes of the sweet baby in her arms. The little girl with a pink ribbon in her dark hair was desperate for comfort, her beautiful eyes too large for her small face. Despite how adorable she was, the woman didn’t seem impressed by her at all. The way she spoke of the child was as though she was a burden. And from the way she was dressed, I imagined she had dampened her lifestyle.
“Is Ford home?” she asked. How did she know Ford? Or where he lived? I was stunned, stuttering as I searched for words.
“How do you, uh, do you know Ford? What do you want with him?” My questions rolled from my tongue too quickly.
“You’re the one fucking him now, right?” She repositioned the baby on her hip, causing her dress to rise dangerously high.
“Excuse me?” My voice was weak, lacking the outrage I felt building in my stomach. How dare she speak to me in such a tone when I’d never done anything to her? I still had no idea who she was! “Look, I don’t know who you are, but you don’t get to speak to me like that.” I pushed my shoulders back, forcing myself to defend against the sudden attack.
Just minutes ago, I was in the kitchen, deciding on the flavors for a celebratory cake. Now, standing in the driveway, I felt out of my element, bombarded in a way I never had before. I wasn’t the type of girl who gossiped or had enemies. My life never involved drama, mostly because I was unsure of how to deal with it.
My hands were clammy, curling into balls of anxiety as my stomach tightened with insecurity. The woman walked towards me, a smug grin on her face as she looked me up and down with a confidence I’d never embodied.
“Ford has went and got him an innocent little sweetheart, huh?” She chuckled, though I was certain she was far from amused. “It’s cute.”
“What do you want?” I asked, this time expressing my frustration with my tone. I didn’t like being discounted or cast aside for anything, including my age.
It wasn’t uncommon for people to take one glance at me and think I was a child who had never been through anything. Sure, I was young, but my life was filled with twists and turns most luckily never had to experience.
“Look, sweetheart,” she smiled, adjusting the baby on her hip again. “This has nothing to do with you. I have some news for Ford, and I don’t think you want to deliver this news yourself.”
“You don’t know me. Don’t call me sweetheart. I’m a grown woman, and I can handle whatever you have to tell Ford. He’s not here, and you need to go,” I was almost screaming, refusing to be ignored again.
“Really?” She smirked again, this time with a bit of sadness in her eyes. “You want to be the one who breaks the news to him? Do you think you can handle that?”
“Yes. I can more than handle that, ma’am,” I crossed my arms defiantly, tilting my head with an attitude.
“Fine. Tell him Virginia came by. And this is Emma,” she looked to the young girl in her arms. “His daughter. And Ford needs to step up and take care of his responsibilities.” She looked directly into my eyes as she broke the devastating news.
I feared she could see the air escaping me. Everything was spinning, my heart racing a mile a minute. I couldn’t believe the words that repeated in my mind, destroying my world with no remorse. Before I knew it, I was reaching out for the car, needing the stability as my legs wavered with the heartbreak that was quickly spreading through my body.
More than the destruction of my relationship to Ford, this news was the death of my fairy tale, all but cancelling my happily ever after.
Chapter 40
FOR
D
“AT THE END of the day, it’s more important to do the job right than to make the daily quotas,” I began, showing one of my best mechanics how to use the new technique we’d learned in a training session only an hour prior.
After my meeting with Sam about the feedback from my team, I thought it was best to only observe. But about halfway through the tutorial, I realized the instructor was skipping a key step and most of my staff was unable to follow along.
Careful not to overstep my boundary, I stepped in to help my team along the training, showing them a few tricks I’d learned along the years. It ended up being a great team-building activity. I could tell they respected my expertise and ability to perform the tasks I required of them.
“So, how was it working for a huge airport like MSP?” one of my team members asked, referring to my old Minneapolis position by its airport code.
“Well, Minneapolis isn’t so big,” I assured the young blond guy as he watched me closely working using the new technique. “I did my training at O’Hare.”
“What? Are you kidding? What was that like?” he asked excitedly.
O’Hare International Airport was one of the largest airports in North America, and I’d attended an intensive six-week course before moving to Minneapolis to start my previous position. It had never occurred to me how impressive working in larger airports would be for my employees.
Pushing my shoulders back, I felt an air of pride in my chest recalling my experience in the larger cities. Neither of them compared to the love I felt for my hometown, but they were great for teaching me the business.
“Mr. Delvey?” a young woman asked before I could launch into my memories.
“Yes?” I asked curiously, having never seen her before.
“I’m sorry to bother you. You have a call from a woman named Charlotte. She said she is–” she started, but I cut her off, rising quickly to my feet.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think it’s best you talk to her. Come with me, please,” she smiled nervously as she led the way down a narrow hall leading from the training room.
My stomach was in knots. Reaching in my pocket for my phone, all I felt were my keys. “How did Charlotte get in touch with you?” I wondered aloud.
“She said she couldn’t reach you, so she called the information desk and found her way to the service directory. It sounds like an emergency,” she explained.
I nodded, although she couldn’t see me. The woman walked with a purpose, nearly rushing to get to the telephone. When we finally reached the secretary’s desk, she passed me a spare extension to take the call, and as I reached for it I realized my hand was shaking. The nerves were unbearable, fearing something could be wrong with Charlotte. We’d had such a great night together, I hated to think that something could be wrong.
“Hello?” I asked, pressing the phone to my ear. There was no response on the other end. Looking to the woman sitting behind the desk, I shrugged my shoulders, silently indicating something was wrong. “Charlotte?” I tried again, but the silence was complete until a loud clicking sound brought on the dial tone.
Handing the phone back to the woman, I felt helpless as I racked my brain to remember her phone number. It was of no use, because I’d only ever called her from my cell, where her number was saved.
“She sounded agitated,” the woman behind the desk said. “She didn’t give me any details, but she wanted you to come home immediately. She said she had tried every way to call you and just needed you to get home.”
My mind was listening, but my feet were acting. Before the woman could finish her sentence, I was heading towards the employee parking lot, reaching for my keys. My thoughts were spiraling, hoping nothing bad had happened. Charlotte wasn’t overly dramatic, so for her to go through such an effort to get in touch with me, I knew it had to be serious.
As I pulled out of the parking lot, I reached into my pocket to call Charlotte on the way home. My heart sank remembering I’d left my phone in the office. I’d been getting more calls from the moving company about the last package, which due today. I’d been hitting ignore as I had no idea what the package was and the calls had become irritating. I’d have to face whatever problem awaited me head on, unable to speak with her. I didn’t care, my only concern was for Charlotte, and how she was handling the situation.
I was grateful to live so close to the airport when I pulled into our development in less than five minutes. Knowing it was a family community, I fought the urge to speed through the quiet neighborhood. However, I stepped on the gas a little harder when I noticed an unfamiliar car parked in our driveway.
The vehicle didn’t belong to anyone I knew, but I was certain its appearance had something to do with Charlotte’s behavior. Opening the front door to my house, my intuition told me there was unexpected news to come. The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight listening to a familiar female voice that didn’t belong to Charlotte.
“So, are there any good clubs in this cow town? I can’t believe I’m in Ohio. I thought all they did here was grow corn,” the unidentifiable voice said.
I walked slowly into the living room to find Charlotte sitting on one side of the small couch we’d snuggle on every night. She looked at me with weary eyes reddened by whatever had happened. My stomach turned with the fear of losing her without even knowing if that were the case. After our near break-up following her brother’s discovery of our relationship, the possibility of losing her was excruciating.
So caught up in the fear of the future, I didn’t pay much attention to the unwelcomed woman in our living room. On the other end of the couch sat a woman I vaguely remembered from my life in Minneapolis. She worked for one of the moving companies that used the airport for shipping packages both domestically and internationally. She was inappropriately dressed, wearing a dress so short, there was little left to the imagination. I wondered if she was looking to go to a club in the middle of the day. It was the only explanation for her attire.
“Victoria?” I heard myself ask, completely confused about how or why she was sitting with Charlotte. Even more worrisome was wondering what she could have possibly told Charlotte about my wildlife in the twin cities. That had to be the reason Charlotte was crying.
“Virginia!” She corrected me with an attitude, as though we had a long history. From what I could remember, we only spent one night together, and I could barely remember that as it was more than a year ago.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, returning my attention to Charlotte before the woman could answer. “Are you okay, baby?”
Charlotte turned her cheek, refusing to even look at me. I knew it was bad, but nothing could prepare me for what came next.
“I wanted you to meet your daughter,” Virginia pointed to the other side of the coffee table, where a little girl quietly played with her feet as she rocked on her back. I’d been too focused on the women to even notice her.
“My daughter?” I repeated the words incredulously. It was impossible, I thought to myself. And then the girl looked at me, her big gray eyes and dark hair just like mine. I exhaled loudly, a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
Instantly, I felt a connection to her, certain Virginia wasn’t lying. Often, I thought about my life in Minneapolis and the shallow relationships I’d made. It wasn’t unusual for me to wake up beside a woman with no recollection of meeting her, let alone taking her to bed. Virginia was one of those women who meant nothing to me, though I had shared with her what was now specially reserved for the woman I loved.
It was all catching up to me, the life I’d thought I had safely escaped. She was the living proof that your past will always catch up with you. I felt sick, but still there was a strange rush of excitement as the young girl began to cry. I guessed she could feel the thick tension in the room.
Ignoring the child, Virginia spoke directly to me. “I see you’ve gone and built yourself a new life. From what I can see, it’s a bit of an upgrade,” she wa
ved her long fingernails around, surveying the living area. “Well, me and Emma came to collect our cut.”
Chapter 41
CHARLOTTE
IT WAS ALL a blur. Watching the woman struggle to carry baby Emma out the door, still scanning Ford’s place as though she was an auditor, I felt my dream life leaving with her. She had single-handedly crushed what I thought was a fairy tale, the life had always wanted for myself.
Ford looked stunned by the whole thing, but that did little to stop the shattering in my heart. He asked the woman a few questions, which she happily answered, overly confident in her stance. It was clear that Ford questioned her claim, but I was certain. A woman didn’t exude that kind of arrogance when she was uncertain.
Sitting alone in the living room, I glanced around, trying to Ford’s home through her eyes. Most of it was still packed away in boxes, needing to be sorted and organized in the many cupboards and shelving already decorating the home.
Ford had at least moved the boxes to their designated room. Glancing at a stack of cardboard boxes I planned to unpack today, I saw the labels – ‘books,’ ‘DVDs,’ and ‘desk contents’ – written in black marker. It was symbolic of the life I would never truly get to experience.
I was so close I thought I could see the future coming together right before my eyes. I’d wake with Ford every morning before preparing breakfast and sending him off to work. I’d already considered changing my hours at the bakery so I could arrive a bit later, giving me more time to spend with Ford.
I’d even begun to consider the idea Ford had planted in my mind – owning my own bakery. I could make my hours and spend my days creating the designs that lived in my head before returning to the home I shared with Ford. We’d talk about our days over dinner, and make love every evening.
