Ruined Promises

by Tracy Lorraine

  The second I slam the door behind him, my sobs erupt. I fall back against the door, slide down to the floor, and cry.

  “Addison, please,” I hear him beg. “I never slept with them, not one of them. Addison.” I hear a thud, like he’s just punched the wall.

  No. He doesn’t get to be angry.

  I jump up from the floor and pull the door open. “Don’t Addison, please me, Blake. I thought we had something. You led me to believe we did, yet I have to deal with my mother seeing you with some other woman. I told her she must’ve been mistaken, that she was wrong, but she made me see for myself what a cheating bastard you really are. Get off me! No!” I squeal, when he grasps my arms to stop me from lashing out at him. He pulls me so my back is to his front and wraps his arms around me, keeping me still.

  “Calm down,” he whispers in my ear, and damn my fucking body because it reacts to him the way it always has done.

  My heart starts to slow just as my stomach turns over. “Fuck,” I say, as I pull at his arms to get him to let go.

  He holds me tight, probably thinking I’m going to try hitting him again, until I start to retch. He lets go pretty quickly at that point, allowing me to run to the bathroom.

  I’m barely bent over the toilet when I feel him behind me, gathering my hair up and gently rubbing my back.

  I need to tell him, but that will mean admitting the truth and having to deal with it. I’m currently enjoying being able to put it somewhat to the back of my mind.

  “Are you okay?” he asks when I emerge from the bathroom a while later. I banished him so I could freshen up—also known as sitting on the edge of the bath, freaking out. I’m not enjoying this pregnancy so far, what with the sore boobs and frequent nausea.

  “Yeah, I’ve just had a bit of a bug, I think I got it from Juliette’s kids,” I lie. It’s not lost on me that since we promised to tell each other the truth, the lies seem to be piling up.

  Blake gets me a glass of water and I sip at it, perching myself back on the edge of the sofa.

  “I promise you, Addison, I haven’t slept with any of them. I never would have told you I hadn’t been with anyone since Kayleigh if it wasn’t true.”

  “So why not tell me, then, if there’s nothing to really hide?”

  “What, like, hey I really like you. By the way, I'm an escort, and women pay me to spend time with them. Yeah, that’s a great pick up line.”

  “You could have just explained—explained your reasons.”

  “I’m ashamed of it, I guess. It’s not the sort of thing a single dad should be doing.”

  “Says who? You? You’re caring for your family; there’s nothing wrong with that, but lying about it…”

  “I’m sorry, Addison. I should have told you and not let you find out like that.”

  “Yes, you should have.”

  “What now?”

  I know I should take this opportunity to be honest with him, and the words I don’t want to say out loud are right on the tip of my tongue, but at the last minute, I chicken out. “I don’t know, Blake.”

  “I—” he starts, but I’m not sure I want to hear him begging, so I cut him off.

  “I’ve got a business opening in a matter of days. I have a million and one things to do. Can we just give it some time? I’ve no idea if I believe any of this, and I’ve really no clue if I can trust you,” I say honestly. The look on his face guts me, but in reality, I’ve only known Blake a few weeks, and for all I know, he could be a perpetual liar.

  “I told my boss I was stopping when we started seeing each other, but he was desperate. I don’t really need the money from it now. My business is doing well, and with the money I made, I’ve bought a couple of properties I’m renting,” he says, gesturing to the building we’re standing in. “I just continued for the company. After losing Kayleigh, I had no intention of finding someone else, and escorting allowed me to get out of the house and meet people.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Okay, women. But they were paying for my company, not to chat me up or get me into bed; they’d pay for Jason or one of the others if that was what they wanted. Most of them were divorced or widowed and wanted company—the same as me, really. The only difference was that they had the money to pay for it.”

  “I think we need to start again,” I say, after a few minutes of silence. “I need to know this is all true before going any further with you. I won’t get stung again. I’m barely out of my last disastrous relationship; I really don’t need to fall head first into another.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “But you have, Blake. Can’t you see that?”

  He leaves not long later, promising to be in touch soon. I could tell from his body language that he wasn’t impressed with my suggestion of starting again, but I don’t know what else to try. It’s that or nothing, as far I see it.

  I sit on the sofa, sipping my water and thinking about everything he said to me, when another wave of nausea washes over me. I’m just about to run to the bathroom when it subsides. Thinking it’s a sign, I grab my phone to make a doctor’s appointment. Ignoring the truth isn’t going to get me very far, so I’d better man up and accept the decision I made.

  After a brief chat with the receptionist, I have an appointment for a couple of days’ time. I guess I’d better get used to the idea of talking about it.

  “Please take a seat,” the doctor says, after telling me her name—which I’ve already forgotten—and welcoming me into the room. “What can I help you with today?”

  “I…I’m…” The words get stuck in my throat.

  “It’s okay, take your time,” the doctor says softly, looking at me with compassionate eyes. She probably thinks I’m about to tell her about some terrible disease I have or something.

  “I’m…pregnant,” I admit, feeling lighter as soon as the word leaves my mouth.

  “Am I presuming from your reaction you’re not happy about it?”

  I tell her everything—about my trip to London to my many conversations with Juliette about it all. Thankfully, she doesn’t look at me with the disapproval I was expecting when I admit to wanting an abortion. She just listens to me, which I’m grateful for.

  “And the father?” she prompts.

  “He doesn’t know yet. We were in a relationship but it’s…complicated.”

  “I understand. Okay, Addison, as you’ve decided to continue with this pregnancy, I would advise you start taking vitamins every day. You can pick some up from the pharmacy. Here are some leaflets telling you the basics of what you should and shouldn’t be doing. They’re quite simple, they should ease you in gently,” she says. I can only imagine what kind of message she’s getting from the panicked look on my face right now. “Everything will be okay,” she reassures me after handing all the paperwork over. “You need to book an appointment with the midwife on your way out, but other than that, just look after yourself and get in touch if you have any concerns.”

  “Thank you,” I say sincerely. The pile of paperwork I’ve just stuffed in my handbag gives me the jitters, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.

  After booking a midwife appointment, I walk the short distance down the street to the pharmacy and stare aimlessly at the pregnancy vitamins. There are about five different options and I have no clue what the difference is.

  “Can I help you?” a shop assistant says from behind me.

  “Uh…” I stutter. “I need some…” I wave my hand in front of the shelf, “but which ones? Is there a difference?”

  “Honestly, not really. You just need to pick ones you’re happy with. The ingredients are mostly the same. This is the bestseller,” she says, picking up a green box. “It’s doing me okay,” she adds as she pats her belly. “Plus, they’re almost always on offer, so you can’t really go wrong.”

  “Okay then,” I whisper, and watch as she picks up three boxes and takes them over to the till. “Do you need anything else? Moisturiser for your bump? Sickness bands?”

 
“I don’t know,” I admit quietly, fighting the urge to burst into tears.

  “It’s okay, this is a big thing, even to the most prepared women. Here’s a magazine you might find useful,” she says kindly, pulling it from under the counter. “There’s even a twenty per cent off voucher for Mothercare in there; you could treat yourself to a couple of new bras or something.”

  “New bras?” I ask, my eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

  “Please tell me if this is too forward, but I finish in forty minutes. There’s a café over the street. How about you go and get yourself a drink and I’ll meet you over there when I’m done?”

  I’m stunned by this offer of support. “I don’t want to ruin your plans.”

  “My only plans for the afternoon involve a trip to Mothercare to pick up an order and an afternoon nap, so don’t worry about that.”

  “Okay then,” I say, feeling slightly lighter.

  “I’m Orla, by the way,” she says with a smile. I look over her briefly. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her light skin, although a little tired around her eyes, is glowing. It’s clear as day she’s very much enjoying her pregnancy. I can’t help but feel I’m never going to look—let alone feel—that comfortable.

  “Addison.”

  “I’ll be over as soon as I’m done. Have a flick through that and then you can fire any questions at me when I get there. Can I just ask one thing of you?”

  “Of course.”

  “They do these incredible strawberry milkshakes. Please could you get me one…or six!” she says with a laugh. “I’m a little addicted.”

  I take the bag containing my vitamins and the magazine, say goodbye to Orla, and head across the street in search of milkshake.

  I open the magazine with trepidation. I’m worried it’s going to be full of information and terminology that’s going to have me running to the ladies to have a panic attack, but I’m happy to discover that from the first page, the thing seems to be written for clueless women just like me.

  I read every page and soak up as much as possible. I’m so engrossed in reading about the development between six and eight weeks I don’t realise Orla sits herself down opposite me—and that’s saying something, because she really is quite pregnant.

  “Mmmm,” she moans in delight as she has her first sip of milkshake, making me look up. “So good.” And I have to agree; it’s gorgeous. I think I just added an item to my menu. “How are you getting on?”

  “Good. I’m just reading that by eight weeks the baby has fingers and toes; they’re just webbed.”

  Orla rubs her belly. “It’s incredible, isn’t it? Is that how far along you are? Eight weeks?”

  “No, only six. This is all a bit of a surprise and not something I envisaged happening.”

  “Even when it’s planned, it can be a lot to take. So many adjustments are needed and you can never imagine what your body goes through during these nine months. My husband and I were trying for years but nothing happened. We gave up hope, got on with our lives…and then…” She gestures to her belly.” It was the most incredible surprise,” she says with a teary-eyed smile as she caresses her belly.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Orla says with pink cheeks after letting out a burp, “Blame nugget. Are you ready to go?”

  “Uh…are you sure about this? I’m going to be the worst shopping partner ever because I have no clue about anything.”

  “That’s why we’re going. Come on.”

  Orla drives us to the retail park and we walk up and down every isle, looking at items I never knew existed. She explains what I might need and some of the things she thinks are just a money-making gimmick, and generally helps build my confidence that this isn’t going to be the huge disaster I’m worried it might be.

  By the time we leave, I’m the proud owner of two maternity bras. They’re not quite what I’m used to, but with how tender my boobs are already feeling, I can understand the need to lose the underwire.

  The lady behind the counter pops an all you could possibly need for you new arrival catalogue inside my bag. The thickness of it makes me panic but Orla reassures me that not all of it’s necessary. Thank fuck for that, because I’m just starting a business I have no money to fund—I don’t need a baby sucking up all of what I do make.

  Orla offers to drive me home but I kindly refuse. She’s already done so much for me today that driving out of her way to my side of town isn’t necessary. Plus, she looks like she could really do with that afternoon nap she mentioned. I insist that I’m fine, that I need to do some shopping, and I’ll get a taxi back. She tries to argue but I have none of it. When she suggests meeting again next week, I bite her arm off. This afternoon’s been a bit of a revelation for me. I’ve never spent so much time talking about babies or looking at baby things, but I found I actually enjoyed it, and having someone to confide in is just what I needed. I don’t want to tell everyone yet—not just because I want to make sure everything is okay, but also because I want to have my head straight. Having Orla to talk to about this makes all the difference.

  I pick up the bit of shopping I need and I’m busy experimenting making milkshakes in the bakery when someone starts ringing the buzzer. A little rush of excitement goes through me as I think it could be Blake. Then, I chastise myself for being excited about it. He may have now had his say, but we’ve got a lot of things to work through if we are ever going to make it as a couple.

  When I pull the door open, I’m a little disappointed when it’s Cara looking back at me.

  “Expecting someone else?” she asks when she sees the look on my face.

  “Not at all,” I say, trying to sort myself out. “Come in, I need a taste tester.” I’ve had my fill of milkshakes today. I think if I have one more sip, I’m gonna puke.

  “Well, I’m your girl. What am I tasting?”

  “Oh my God, Adds, these are gorgeous,” Cara says, slurping down her forth milkshake.

  “You think they’ll sell?”

  “Uh…do bears shite in the woods?”

  “Well, okay then,” I say with a laugh. “I’d better order some glasses, straws, and ingredients.”

  “Yes, you had, and speaking of opening day,” she says, rummaging around in her giant bag before pulling out business cards and pens to go with the fliers and aprons she handed me when she first arrived.

  “Who are you? Mary Poppins? You gonna pull a lamp out of that thing next?”

  “Shut your trap and make me another banana milkshake,” she demands.

  “Aren’t you feeling sick yet?”

  “Nope, keep ‘em coming.”

  Chapter Four

  I get a phone call from Blake the next morning telling me that he’ll be here at five o’clock on Saturday night and to be ready and waiting.

  Before Cara left the other night, I plucked up the courage to ask her about Jason and his escorting. I wasn’t sure if she’d know anything, but seeing as she has a thing with Nate, she was my only hope—other than outright asking Jason, and that wasn’t happening anytime soon because he’d be sure to tell Blake I was digging. Cara delighted in dishing Jason’s dirty secrets. What Blake said was totally true; he’s a paid escort and has no limits where the woman’s desires are concerned. And although Cara had no idea about Blake also being involved, she was adamant that if he was up to the same, she would have heard about it. She was shocked to find out he was doing the more innocent version.

  “There’s no way he’s been doing that. I’d have known, I’m sure of it. It’s a well known fact around town that Blake has kept it in his pants since Kayleigh died; it’s why all the women under the age of forty follow him around with their tongues hanging from their mouths,” Cara’s voice repeats in my head.

  My phone pings with a message from Blake saying he’s on his way, and butterflies instantly take up camp in my belly. At first I think I’m going to puke again, but after a minute or two that feeling disappears. I’ve thrown up enough thi
s afternoon; surely there can’t be any more in me.

  I scroll through the conversation we’ve been having over the last few days. It’s mostly Blake asking me how I am, what I’ve been up to, and if I’m ready for the bakery opening. I know it’s only been a few days but I’ve missed him, so much so I’m now dying to see him in real life. I have no idea if that was his intention by staying away but being in touch. If it was, it worked like a bloody charm.

  I go through to the bathroom to check my hair and make up for the thousandth time. It’s not like it’s a blind date or anything, but having not really seen him for a while, I’m feeling the pressure to look the part. He said to dress smart so I had a rummage around in the boxes sat in my bedroom and found my emerald green wrap dress. It hugs my new curves perfectly. I’ve paired it with some simple black court shoes and a plain necklace that drops down into my cleavage.

  When the buzzer rings, I blow out a breath through my perfectly painted lips and try to relax. It’s just Blake.

  “Hey,” I say, pulling the door back.

  “Wow, Addison, you look beautiful.” His eyes lock on to my cleavage before dropping down and leisurely running over my body. It reminds me of the first couple of times I met him. He ignited my body with just a look then, and it seems nothing’s changed.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, because the lump in my throat is so huge. Fuck, I’ve missed him so much. I don’t know whether to launch myself at him and never let go or to just stand here and sob. Deciding I need to pull myself together, I say, “I’ll just grab my jacket.”

  “No need. We’re staying in,” he says as he lifts his arms to show me the shopping bags he’s carrying.

  “Oh.”

  He follows me into the kitchen and puts everything down on the counter. “Here, these are for you,” he says, passing me another bunch of flowers. The last lot are still going strong. “And Sinead thought you’d like this.” He hands me a candle and I stupidly take the lid off to smell it. The scent hits my nose and knocks me for six. I almost launch it across the room in my haste to escape.