An Angel Named Andrew
Emma was already dressed when Edward walked into the office.
“Are you alone?” he asked, stepping closer.
“Yes.”
“Ill stop by this evening. Ive got good news for you,” Edward murmured, lowering his voice. Just as he moved to embrace her, footsteps echoed outside the door. Edward quickly stepped back and retreated to the doorway.
“See you tonight,” he said, slipping out.
Waiting by the lift, Emma still hoped he might join her so she could ask about the news. Had he finally decided to leave his wife? What if he stayed the night? Shed need to prepare dinner. If only shed taken the meat from the freezer this morningit wouldve thawed by now. At least shed bought a bottle of wine yesterday.
Impatient, she tapped her foot, eager to get home and have everything ready before Edward arrived. At last, the lift doors opened.
Once home, she pulled the meat from the freezer and popped it into the microwave to defrost. Only then did she change, glancing around the flat. Spotless, as usual.
When theyd first begun seeing each other, Edward had complained that his wife didnt work, yet never managed to cook dinnertoo busy with shops, salons, and the gym. Emma had taken note. She always cleaned meticulously and prepared a proper meal before his visits. He rarely ate, sometimes just picking at the food, leaving most to be thrown away. He came twice a week, after dropping his son at football practice. They had an hour. Emma never cried, never complained, never asked for more. The perfect mistress.
Her elder sister had spent years with a married man who never left his wife. When she finally ended it, he died of a heart attack. Emma had sworn never to get involved with a married man. But as they saynever say never.
Before Edward, shed dated a man for four years who never proposed. Then she spotted him in a café with another womanshed walked in after work with a friend. She packed his things in a suitcase and left it by the door before he returned.
After he left, she wept all night, later regretting her haste. Time passed; she tried dating others, but nothing felt right. Her ex, James, used to drive her to worknow she wasted hours on the bus. She quit, finding a job just two stops away, and walked instead.
At her new workplace, the deputy directora handsome man who somewhat resembled the actor Hiddlestonnoticed her immediately. A colleague warned her he was married with a son. Emma was disappointed. She liked Edward. The sort of man one only dreamed of. She resolved to keep her distance.
She left the Christmas party early. The pavements were icy. In a dim alley, she nearly slippeduntil someone steadied her arm. Edward had been following. He walked her home but didnt press for coffee.
Perhaps that won her overor perhaps it was simply time to fall in love again. From then on, she found flowers, chocolates, or a card on her desk each morning. Who could resist?
Within a month, they were intimate. Emma told herself it was just physicalbut when does the heart listen?
Edward visited twice a week for an hourthe length of his sons football training. Soon, she grew weary of scheduled affection and resolved to end it. But sensing her mood, he preempted her, declaring hed leave his wifeshed grown suspicious. He wanted a future with Emma. To prove it, he stayed the night. A dizzying night. She believed him because she wanted to.
Then his son fell ill. No training, no visits. Emma vowed not to let him backbut when he rang the bell, she ran to open it. Breaking free was beyond her.
She waited. He delayed. Once, he admitted hed nearly left, but his wife overdosed. Luckily, hed returned in time to call an ambulance. Nothing changed.
Emma barely finished cooking when the doorbell chimed. She checked her reflection, smoothed her dress, then opened the doorstraight into his arms.
“Smells wonderful,” he said.
“I made roast. Will you eat?”
“No, no time.” He kissed her hungrily, leading her to the sofa, already draped with fresh linens. Afterwards, they lay catching their breath.
“You had news?” she reminded him. “I do too.”
“Good news?” he asked.
“I dont know. You first.”
“You know Mr. Thompsons retiring?” Edward said. Emma stayed silent. “I spoke to the directorhe agreed to promote you. Youll head the department. Arent you pleased?”
“Of course,” Emma managed, though her smile faltered. She buried her face in his shoulder to hide her tears. Shed hoped
“Shame youll be on another floor, but fewer rumours that way. Its getting harder to resist you at work.” He leaned in, but she pulled away. “What was your news?”
“Sure you wont eat?” she asked, rising.
“No. Blimeytimes up. Need to fetch my son.”
He kissed her goodbye. Emma locked the door, stored the uneaten roast and wine, then wept.
She slept poorly, staring at the ceiling, resolved to end it. What if his wife found out and confronted her? Tomorrow, shed tell him
But tomorrow was Saturday. No mattershe had until Monday. She hadnt shared her own news. Perhaps that would spur him to act.
By evening, the rain stopped. Emma went for a walktired of being alone. She strolled past two stops and entered a shop. Wandering the aisles, she bought tea and biscuits. Only one till was open, a short queue forming.
An old woman finished. Next was a boyunlike most lads grabbing sweets, hed chosen pasta, cucumbers, bread, and butter.
“Wheres your mum? Have you got money?” an elderly woman asked. The cashier eyed him skeptically.
“Leave the lad be. Should be glad hes helping his mum,” a man grumbled.
“Teenagers have run off without paying before,” the cashier muttered.
“Ive got money,” the boy said firmly, digging into his pocket.
“Just scan it,” the man urged. “How longs this taking?”
The boy turned, locking eyes with Emma. Without thinking, she stepped forward.
“Oh good, caught you.” She placed her tea and biscuits beside his items.
“Together?” the cashier asked warily.
“Of course. Right, son?” Emma rested a hand on his shoulder.
“You shouldve said your mum was here,” the cashier scolded, scanning the items.
Emma paid; they left.
“Thank you. Got a bag?” he asked.
“Why?”
“For your things. Ill give you the money back.” He reached into his pocket.
“Keep them. How old are you?”
“Nine,” he said without blinkingthough he looked barely seven.
“Do you live nearby? Ill walk youits late. Howd your mum let you out alone?”
“She cant walk. A car hit her,” he whispered.
“Im sorry. Your dad?”
“He left when he found out shed never walk again.”
“Is there no treatment?” Emma stopped.
“Dunno.” He shrugged.
“So you care for her?”
“Just shopping, mopping floors, hanging laundry. She does the restcooking, dishes.”
“Youre so young.” Her eyes stung.
“Im not little. Have you got kids?”
“No. But Id love a son like you. Whats your name?”
“Andrew.”
“Andrew If I have a boy, Ill name him that,” she said.
“Youre having a baby?”
Strange, hearing such a question from a child. But she couldnt lie.
“Yes. But his fathers marriedhes got a son already. Youre too young for this talk.”
“Im not little,” he repeated, offended. “Thats my house.”
“Do you need money? Help?” She didnt want to part.
“Mums got her pension; Dad pays child support. We manage.”
“Go on, then. Shell be waiting.”
“Right.” He dashed off but turned halfway.
“Itll all be fine!” he called.
Gone before she could reply, Emma walked home, suddenly at peace. If a child could shoulder such burdens, so could she. If something happened to her, whod be there? Noshe wouldnt end the pregnancy, whatever Edward decided. It didnt matter now.
Shed take the promotionhigher pay, more security. She pressed a hand to her belly, where perhaps only a cluster of cells stirred. Boy or girl?
She thought of Andrew. *Ill ask about his mothers conditionraise funds if she needs surgery. And buy him a proper coatthat ones too small. Tomorrow, Ill ask neighbours which flats theirs*
Children grow up fast when families struggle. How timely their meeting. Shed nearly made a terrible mistake. Edward would never leave
