Ruined Promises

by Tracy Lorraine

  “Are you okay?” Blake asks, his eyebrows drawn together.

  “Yeah, it was just strong and took me by surprise. Have you smelt it?” I ask, hoping to deflect his attention.

  “No. Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little pale.”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Cara and I had a little too much wine last night,” I say. I’ve been practising my story all day in the hope it’s believable.

  “Okay,” he says, but the way he looks at me makes me wonder if I’m as good a liar as I hoped. “Drink?” He pulls an expensive bottle of wine from one of his bags.

  “I’ll get it, you sit down.”

  “Nope, I’m waiting on you tonight. Go and relax, I’ve got everything covered.”

  “Okay, but could I have a very weak wine and soda?” I ask, pulling an already chilled bottle of fizz from the fridge. I hate the idea of diluting that gorgeous white he’s still holding, but there isn’t much else I can do without revealing the truth, and I’m not ready for that yet.

  “Sure,” he agrees, but he’s still looking at me oddly.

  I pull out one of the dining chairs and take a seat. He passes my drink over seconds later, before standing in front of me with his own glass.

  “To fresh starts and honesty,” he says, raising his glass ready to tap mine.

  I swallow down the words I know I should be saying. I can’t, not yet.

  “To fresh starts,” I say, ignoring the second part of his toast.

  “So how come we’re staying in?” I ask as I watch him start unloading the bags before getting distracted by his denim-clad arse.

  I don’t see him look over his shoulder at me, so it’s not until I hear him laugh that I know I’ve been caught.

  “Enjoying yourself?”

  My eyes jump back up to his as I feel embarrassment race to my cheeks. I didn’t want to be quite so transparent with my feelings for him. I wanted him to at least think he had to work at winning me back around, but I think I’ve just fallen at the first hurdle.

  He holds my stare for a few seconds but I look away. It’s too intense and is making me want to do things I know I need to hold off on.

  Blake clears his throat before answering my original question. “I didn’t want to share you.” I can’t help but look at him. The pain in his voice as he says it tugs at my heart. “I’ve missed you, Addison. I wasn’t going to let anyone else have a piece of you tonight.”

  I swallow and look away again. This is too much.

  I watch as he lifts a casserole dish from one of the bags before placing it on the hob and turning it on. I presume that must be the starter, because he then pulls out potatoes, steak, and some veggies, followed by another bottle of wine—red, this time. I think the plan for tonight may have been to get me drunk.

  “What’re you smiling about?” he asks.

  “Nothing. What’s in the pot?”

  “Soup. Sinead made it for us.”

  “How is she?” I ask, thinking about the last time I saw her.

  “She’s mad at me because she misses you.”

  Is there going to be any point tonight where I’m not going to feel the need to break down?

  “I miss her, too,” I admit.

  “And me?” Blake asks hopefully.

  “Meh,” I mutter with a shrug of my shoulders. He knows I’m lying.

  We chat about his company and the bakery while Blake peels and chops the potatoes and preps the veg. Once the chips are in the oven, he ladles a couple of spoonfuls of soup and brings them over.

  “It smells delicious,” I say, leaning over the bowl.

  “I didn’t get bread. I thought it would be too carby.”

  “Probably,” I say, although I really don’t need to be worrying about that for the next few months.

  “How do you want your steak cooked?” Blake asks as he gets up to start on our main course.

  An article I read in the bloody pregnancy magazine pops into my head. “Well, please.”

  “Really? I’d have had out down for a medium-rare kind of girl.”

  I really want to scream yes, that’s how I want it, but I can’t. Instead, I just shake my head and have a sip of my watered down wine—what a waste.

  I continue watching Blake as he moves around my kitchen with ease—I guess he’s the one who stocked it so there’s no reason he shouldn’t look like he’s at home right now—and I don’t think I’ve seen anything sexier. His fitted white shirt is tucked into his dark jeans, showing off his slim waist. His sleeves are rolled up past the elbows, giving me a show of his muscles every time he moves.

  He throws the first steak into the pan and I realise I have no interest in eating what he’s preparing because I just want him. I squeeze my thighs together as my clit starts to throb.

  I blink and he’s right in front of me. I run my eyes from his stomach up until my head’s tipped right back and I’m looking in his eyes. “Everything okay?” he asks, amusement dancing in his eyes.

  “Yes.”

  “You were squirming.”

  “Numb bum,” I lie.

  “I think we both know that’s not true. I can read your body, Addison, remember?” I swallow and he watches the movement in my neck. “I can tell when you’re turned on. Your eyes get greener, your cheeks flush,” he says, running his fingertips over them, “and your breasts swell, begging for attention.” He continues running his fingers down my neck and over my breasts. He’s just about to pull the fabric to the side when I jump up and back away from him.

  “No,” I whisper, but there’s no strength behind it.

  I bolt to the bathroom, slam the door, and lean back against it as I will my heart rate under control.

  I can’t let him do this. I can’t let him back in like nothing ever happened. I bring the image of him sat with that woman in the restaurant to the forefront. I told myself I would make him work for it, prove to me I can trust him, yet here I am, panting with fucking need after only an hour with him.

  When I re-join him, he’s sat at the table with our dinner waiting for me. “I was just coming to get you.”

  “This looks delicious,” I say, although I’m not sure I’m going to enjoy my well-done steak.

  “I haven’t had a good steak like that in ages,” Blake says, leaning back in his chair with his hands on his stomach. I wish I could say the same, although it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.

  “I didn’t bring pudding.”

  “That’s okay, I’m not sure I could eat anything else anyway.”

  “I have an idea though,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah, come on,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the door.

  “Where are we going?”

  He doesn’t answer me, instead just continuing to pull me along behind him. When he opens the door to the bakery, I start to get an idea of what he’s thinking.

  “Wow, it looks like you’re all set to open,” he says, looking around. “It’s incredible.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You look worried.”

  “What if no one comes? What if I’ve wasted all this money?” I put everything I had into opening this place—not to mention a loan from Aunt Addy and the free rent and labour Blake’s provided.

  “That’s not going to happen, Addison. This place is going to be huge, just wait and see.” His confidence in me always takes me by surprise. I’ve no idea what he sees that makes him so sure of my abilities. “What’s all this?”

  “I’ve added fresh milkshakes to the menu. You want to try one?” I ask, when I see his eyes light up.

  “Once we’ve made pudding,” he says, grabbing a bowl and wooden spoon.

  “What are we making?”

  “I want another taste of your chocolate brownies. I couldn’t get enough of them last time,” he announces, but the look in his eyes as he says it tells me that’s not the only thing he wants as taste of. He takes a step towards me and I step back, t
rying desperately hard not to fall under his spell.

  “You do the dry ingredients and I’ll do the wet.” His eyes visibly darken when I say the word wet. “Blake,” I warn, but I’m unable to step away because he’s backed me into a corner.

  “Okay,” he says, his voice deep and gravelly. “You get wet.”

  He reaches for my wrist but I move it out of the way just in time. I’m barely holding myself back as it is; if he touches me, I know I’m done for.

  After staring at me for another two seconds, he moves back and allows me to find all the ingredients we need and to fire up the oven.

  “Can I lick the spoon?” Blake asks, making me look up from the chocolaty mixture I’m currently stirring. The distraction means I end up hitting the side of the bowl with my hand. “Scratch that. I’ll lick it off you.”

  Before I have a chance to say anything, Blake’s holding my hand up to his mouth. I watch as his lips open and his tongue licks gently across the base of my thumb. The contact sends tingles shooting around my body before zeroing on my clit. I can feel him staring at me as I watch his lips wrap around my skin and suck, as if it’s the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Addison,” he growls as he steps forward slightly. My eyes come up to his and we once again find ourselves locked in a stare. He lowers my hand from his lips but doesn’t let go. Instead, he uses it to pull me up against him. “You’re killing me. I need you. I need you so fucking badly.”

  I want to say something along the lines of no but when I open my mouth nothing comes out, instead Blake uses the opportunity to lean forward and capture my mouth. He kisses me gently to start with as if he thinks I’m going to pull away. He obviously doesn’t realise the effect he has on me, because now he’s kissing me there’s no way I can stop him. When he feels my body relax into him, he starts exploring my mouth like it’s the first time we’ve kissed. Our tongues collide and dance together as we remember how good this is. Moans of pleasure come from both of us. He holds me so tightly against him I feel his erection pressing into my stomach. The thought of having him inside me again makes my muscles clench.

  I’m just coming to realise that all my resolve to take this slowly, to have him prove to me that he can be trusted before doing all this again, has gone when he steps back from me. His hands go into his hair and he looks at me with a fraught expression on his face.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, almost begging. “I just had to kiss you.”

  “It’s okay,” I say, but it gives him the wrong idea. His eyes come back to life and he steps forward again.

  I put my hand on his chest to stop him. Now I don’t have contact with him, I can think straight. I shake my head.

  “I’m so sorry, Addison. I swear I never meant to hurt you.”

  “I know,” I say, because I do believe he’s sorry. I just need to know it’s not going to happen again, especially now I have more than just me to worry about.

  We put the brownies in the oven and Blake helps me wash up before I make him a milkshake in each flavour to taste.

  Once the buzzer goes off, we take the warm brownies and our milkshakes out to the seating area and spend the next hour chatting and eating. The tension between us is unbelievable but Blake behaves, much to my disappointment.

  When the time comes for him to leave, we stand at the backdoor to the building, awkwardly looking at each other, both unsure how to end the evening.

  “Thank you for giving me a second chance.”

  “The jury’s still out as to whether you deserve it or not.”

  “Ouch,” he says, bringing his hand up to his heart. “But I deserve that. I don’t know how to prove to you how sorry I am and how much you mean to me. All that’s over. I’ve told them I’m done.”

  “Just give me time, Blake, and be yourself.”

  “What if I don’t want to give you time?”

  “You have to.”

  He stares at me for a beat before lifting his hand to my cheek. “Okay, baker girl, just come back to me,” he says sadly. I swallow down the emotion his words drag up.

  “I will if I can.” I step forward and reach up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight.”

  After cleaning up both the bakery and my kitchen, I get myself in bed, but I can’t sleep. I toss and turn for hours, arguing with myself as to whether I’ve done the right thing by keeping my pregnancy secret.

  Chapter Five

  I wake up the next morning to buzzing and banging. It takes me a couple of seconds in my sleepy haze to remember where I am.

  I get out of bed, grab my dressing gown, and pull it around myself as I walk out to see who it is. When I get to the little screen, I see Mum and Aunt Addy stood waiting.

  I press the button down to unlock the door and tell them to come in. I put the flat door on the latch and head over to fill the kettle, knowing they’re going to want tea. I quickly pull out a tea bag from the decaf box hidden at the back of the cupboard and pop it in my mug before they get to the top of the stairs.

  “Morning,” I say when they enter.

  “Hardly; it’s almost lunchtime,” Mum says as she follows behind Aunt Addy, making sure she gets to the sofa safely on her crutches.

  “It’s not like you to sleep so late,” Aunt Addy says after taking in her surroundings. “Are you okay?”

  “Blake came over last night,” I say.

  When I turn around with two mugs in my hand I can’t help but laugh at the goofy smiles on their faces.

  “Is he still here?” Aunt Addy whispers. “I told you we shouldn’t just turn up unannounced,” she says, turning to Mum.

  “No, he’s not here. He just came around for dinner so we could talk.”

  “And…” Mum prompts.

  “And we’re talking.”

  “Come on, Addison, spit it out, who the hell was the woman?”

  “Ugh, fine.” I carry the tea over before sitting down on the chair opposite them and explaining everything Blake told me.

  “He’s been escorting?” Aunt Addy asks, sounding shocked. “So you’re telling me that while I was babysitting Sinead, he was out wining and dining random women for money?” The way she says wining and dining takes me back to questioning Blake’s actions and wine knowledge at my birthday meal. I remember him saying something like I know how to treat a woman properly. Well, of course he does if he was being paid to fucking do it. I try to keep a lid on my anger. I may now understand what Blake was doing and why, but that doesn’t mean the thought of him spending all that time with those women makes me happy.

  “And you believe him?” Mum asks.

  “Blake’s not a liar, Bex,” Aunt Addy snaps, trying to defend him.

  “Maybe not, but he was still out with another woman when he should have been with my daughter.” Wow, Mum getting all defensive for me? This is new.

  “Maybe not, but you don’t know what that boy’s been through.”

  “Okay, that’s enough, you two. To answer your question Mum, yes, I think I do believe him. I don’t like it, but I do. And we’re going to give it another shot, but,” I say quickly, before either of them can put their opinions in, “we’re taking it slow—starting again.”

  “I think that’s a good idea. It got intense quite fast last time.” I can’t help but agree with Aunt Addy. I turned up in Ireland looking for a new life and I somehow fell head first into a new relationship that wasn’t just about the two of us but his daughter as well.

  I wake up to a gorgeous spring day the following Sunday morning. The sun is shining bright and the birds are singing. I lie in bed for a few minutes, appreciating the peace Ireland has to offer, but it doesn’t last long, because when I swing my legs out of bed and sit up, I instantly have the urge to throw up.

  I hear my phone ringing out in the living room while I’m bent over the toilet. Once I’m done, I brush my teeth and pull my hair back into a bun. When I see who was ringing, my stomach twists again, only not with morning sickness but with excitement
.

  I unlock my phone and call him straight back.

  “Good morning, baker girl.”

  “Morning, sorry I missed you. I was in the bathroom.”

  “Umm…naked in the shower, I hope,” he says in a husky voice.

  I almost laugh to myself before saying, “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Anyway, Sinead said something about a picnic in the park and we wondered if you’d like to come with us.” I’m torn. I really want to say yes; I’m desperate to see Blake but I’m worried about allowing Sinead to see us happy again in case it doesn’t work out. She doesn’t need that. Blake must sense my thoughts, because after a few seconds of silence, he says, “I’ve had a chat with Sinead. I’ve told her we’re just friends.”

  “Blake, I—”

  “Please, Addison. I really want to see you.”

  “Okay, fine,” I say, breaking down to the pathetic begging voice he puts on. “But if you’ve told her we’re just friends, we’ve got to act that way.”

  “I can do that,” he states adamantly.

  “Okay then,” I say, but I really doubt his ability. He’s always been too tactile when it comes to touching.

  “We’ll pick you up at eleven.”

  “Do I need to bring any food?”

  “We thought you might like to supply dessert.”

  “Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I can’t wait to see you,” he says in a quieter voice.

  “You too. I’ve got to go; I’ve got cakes to make,” I say, before hanging up. If he wants Sinead to ever believe we’re just friends, that sort of shit can’t be said.

  I quickly have that shower before throwing on a pair of leggings and a loose dress. I may only be a few weeks pregnant and I’m not sure if I’m just being paranoid, but I feel so bloated already. I stand in front of the mirror and smooth my hands over my belly. There’s no way anyone would notice but it still makes me feel uneasy. I shouldn’t be keeping this from Blake. I tell myself I’m going to tell him the next time I have him alone. He deserves to know, and the longer it goes on, the worse the lie is going to get.