**An Angel Named Andrew**
I was already dressed when Oliver walked into the office.
“Are you alone?” he asked, stepping closer.
“Yes.”
“Ill stop by tonight. Ive got good news for you,” Oliver murmured, lowering his voice. Just as he moved to embrace me, footsteps echoed outside the door. He jerked back, retreating to the doorway.
“See you tonight,” he said, then disappeared.
Waiting by the lift, I still hoped hed followmaybe Id get a hint about this news. Had he finally decided to leave his wife? Would he stay the night? I needed to cook something nice. If only Id taken the meat out of the freezer this morningit wouldve thawed by now. At least Id bought wine yesterday.
Impatient, I tapped my foot, eager to get home and prepare before Oliver arrived. Finally, the lift doors opened.
Once inside my flat, I shoved the meat into the microwave to defrost, then changed clothes, glancing around. The place looked tidy enough.
When wed first started seeing each other, Oliver had complained about his wifeshe didnt work, yet she never cooked, too busy with shopping and salons. I took note. For him, I kept the flat spotless and made proper meals. He rarely ate, just took a bite or two. Most of it ended up in the bin. He visited twice a week while dropping his son at football club. We had an hour. I never cried, never asked for more. The perfect mistress.
My older sister had wasted years on a married man who never left his wife. When she finally ended it, he dropped dead of a heart attack. So I swore off married men. But they say, “never say never.”
Before Oliver, Id dated a bloke for four yearsno proposal. Then I spotted him in a café with another woman. That night, I packed his things and left them by the door.
I cried all night, later regretting my haste. Months passed. I tried dating others, but none felt right. My ex, James, used to drive me to work. Now I wasted hours on buses. Eventually, I quit and found a job two stops from home, walking instead.
At the new office, the deputy manager took noticea handsome bloke, vaguely resembling that actor Hiddleston. A coworker warned me he was married with a son. I was gutted. Oliver was everything Id ever wanted. But I resolved to keep it professional.
At the Christmas party, I left early. The pavements were icy. Slipping in a dark alley, I nearly felluntil someone steadied me. Oliver. He walked me home but didnt push for coffee.
Maybe that won me over. Or maybe it was just time to fall again. Soon, I found flowers, chocolates, or notes on my desk. Who could resist?
A month later, we slept together. I told myself it was just sex. Since when does the heart listen?
Oliver came twice a weekjust an hour, while his son trained. Eventually, I grew tired of scheduled love and decided to end it. But he beat me to it, saying hed leave his wife. She suspected something. He wanted a future with me. To prove it, he stayed the night. It was intoxicating. I believed him because I wanted to.
Then his son fell ill. No training, no visits. I swore I wouldnt let him backbut when he knocked, I ran to the door. Leaving him was beyond me.
I waited. He stalled. Once, he admitted hed tried leaving before, but his wife overdosed. Lucky hed returned in time to call an ambulance. So nothing changed.
Tonight, Id barely finished cooking when the doorbell chimed. I checked my reflection, then let him in. He pulled me close.
“Smells amazing,” he said.
“I made steak. Hungry?”
“No, not enough time.” He kissed me hungrily, leading me to the sofa, already laid with fresh sheets. After, we lay breathless.
“You had news for me,” I reminded him. “Ive got some too.”
“Good news?” he asked.
“Dunno. You first.”
“You know Mr. Thompsons retiring?” I stayed silent. “I spoke to the director. Theyre offering you his positionheading the department. Arent you pleased?”
“Thrilled,” I lied, forcing a smile. I buried my face in his shoulder to hide the tears. So much for hope.
“Shame youll be on another floor, but fewer rumours that way. Its hard holding back at work.” He leaned in, but I shifted away. “What was your news?”
“Sure you wont eat?” I stood.
“Cant. Bloody hellgotta fetch my son.”
He kissed me goodbye and left. I locked up, stashed the steak and wine in the fridge, then wept.
Sleep wouldnt come. Staring at the ceiling, I knew this had to end. The last thing I needed was his wife storming in. Tomorrow, Id tell him
But tomorrow was Saturday. No matter. I had until Monday. I hadnt shared the biggest newsmaybe itd force his hand.
By evening, the rain stopped, sunlight breaking through. I went for a walk, tired of being alone. Two stops later, I ducked into a shop, browsing slowly. Tea. Biscuits. One checkout open, a short queue.
An old woman finished. Next, a boymaybe sevenplaced pasta, cucumbers, bread, and butter on the belt.
“You alone? Wheres your mum? Got money?” the woman behind him asked. The cashier eyed him suspiciously.
“Blimey, give the lad a break. Should be glad hes helping,” a man grumbled.
“Had a teen run off without paying last week,” the cashier said.
“Ive got money,” the boy insisted, digging in his pocket.
“Just scan it,” the man urged. “Well be here all night.”
The boy turned, locking eyes with me. Without thinking, I stepped forward.
“Made it!” I added my tea and biscuits to his items.
“Together?” the cashier asked.
“Course. Right, son?” I squeezed his shoulder.
“Why didnt you say your mum was here?” She started scanning.
Outside, the boy thanked me. “Got a bag? Ill give you your things back. And your money.”
“Keep them. Why are you shopping alone? How old are you?”
“Nine,” he said, deadpan. He looked barely seven.
“You live nearby? Let me walk you. Isnt your mum worried?”
“She cant walk. Got hit by a car.”
“Oh God. Your dad?”
“Left when he found out shed need a wheelchair.”
“Is there no treatment?”
“Dunno.” He shrugged.
“So you look after her?”
“Just shopping, mopping, laundry. She cooks and washes up.”
“Youre just a kid.” My eyes stung.
“Im not. You got kids?”
“No. But Id want a son like you. Whats your name?”
“Andrew.”
“Andrew If I ever have a boy, Ill name him that.”
“Youre having a baby?”
Strange question from a child. But I couldnt lie.
“Yes. But his fathers married. Already has a son.”
“Im not a kid,” he muttered. “Thats my flat.”
“Need money? Help?” I didnt want to leave him.
“Mum gets benefits. Dad pays. Were okay.”
“Go on, then. Shell be waiting.”
He ran off, but halfway, stopped.
“Itll be alright!” he called.
Gone before I could reply. Walking home, I felt calm. If a boy could handle so much, so could I. And if something happened to mewhod be there? No. Id keep the baby, whatever Oliver decided.
Id take the promotion. More money, another floor. Pressing a hand to my stomachjust a clump of cells nowI wondered: boy or girl?
I thought of Andrew. *Ill find out about his mum. Raise funds if she needs surgery. Buy him a proper coathis is too small. Tomorrow, Ill ask neighbours which flats theirs*
Kids grow up fast when lifes hard. Meeting him tonightit felt fateful. Id almost made a terrible mistake. Oliver would never leave.
Some encounters change everythinglike angels. They say, “If you want to touch an angel, hug a child.”
What had Andrew said? *Itll be alright.* And it would be.
