**An Angel Named Andrew**
I was already dressed when Henry walked into the office.
“Are you alone?” he asked, stepping closer.
“Yes.”
“Ill come by tonight. Ive got good news for you,” he said, lowering his voice. Just as he moved to embrace me, footsteps echoed outside the door. Henry jerked back and retreated to the doorway.
“See you tonight,” he muttered before slipping out.
Waiting by the lift, I still hoped hed join me so I could ask about his news. Had he finally decided to leave his wife? What if he stayed the night? Id need to prepare dinner. If only Id taken the meat from the freezer this morningit wouldve thawed by now. At least Id bought a bottle of wine yesterday.
Impatient, I tapped my foot, eager to get home in time to cook before Henry arrived. Finally, the lift doors slid open.
At home, I immediately microwaved the meat to defrost, then changed clothes. A quick glance around the flatclean enough.
When we first started seeing each other, Henry complained about his wifehow she didnt work, yet never managed to cook dinner, too busy with shopping, salons, and the gym. I remembered that. So before his visits, Id clean thoroughly and prepare a proper meal. He never ate much, just tasted a bite. Most of it ended up in the bin. He came twice a week, when he drove his son to football club. We had an hour. I never cried, never complained, never asked for more. The perfect mistress.
My older sister spent years with a married man who never left his wife. When she finally ended it, he died of a heart attack. So I swore Id never date a married man. But as they say, never say never.
Before Henry, I dated a man for four yearsno proposal. Then I spotted him in a café with another woman. I packed his things into a suitcase and left it by the door.
After he left, I cried all night, later regretting my haste. I tried other men, but nothing felt right. My ex, Daniel, used to drive me to work; now I wasted hours on the bus. Eventually, I quit and found a job two stops from home, walking instead.
At the new office, the deputy directora handsome man, vaguely resembling that actor Cumberbatchnoticed me immediately.
My desk-mate warned me: he was married, with a son. I was disappointed. Henry was everything Id dreamed of. But I resolved to keep my distance.
At the Christmas party, I left early. The pavements were icy. I nearly slipped in a dark alley when someone caught my armHenry. He walked me home but didnt push for coffee.
Maybe thats what won me over. Or maybe it was just time to fall again. Soon, Id find flowers, chocolates, or a cheerful note on my desk each morning. Who could resist?
A month later, we slept together. I told myself it was just sex. But since when does the heart listen?
Henry visited twice a weekjust an hour, the length of his sons training. Eventually, the scheduled affection grated on me. I decided to end it, but he sensed my mood and preempted me: he was leaving his wife. She suspected something. He wanted a life with me. As proof, he stayed the nighta dizzying night. I believed him because I wanted to.
Then his son fell ill. No training, no visits. I swore I wouldnt let him back, but when he rang the bell, I ran to the door. Resisting him was beyond me.
I waited. He stalled. Once, he admitted hed tried to leave before, but his wife swallowed pills. Hed returned just in time to call an ambulance. Nothing changed.
Id barely finished cooking when the buzzer sounded. I checked my reflection, smoothed my hair, then opened the doorstraight into his arms.
“Something smells amazing,” he murmured.
“I made steak. Hungry?”
“No, no time.” He kissed me hungrily, pulling me to the sofa, already laid with fresh sheets. Afterward, we lay side by side.
“You had news for me,” I reminded him. “Ive got some too.”
“Good news?” he asked.
“Not sure. You first.”
“You know Mr. Thompsons retiring?” I didnt respond. “I spoke to the directorhes agreed to promote you. Youll head the department. Arent you pleased?”
“Thrilled,” I lied, but my smile faltered. I buried my face in his shoulder to hide my tears. Id hoped
“Shame youll be on another floor, but less gossip. Its getting harder to keep my hands off you at work.” He leaned in, but I pulled away. “What was your news?”
“Sure you wont eat?” I stood abruptly.
“No. Blimeytimes up. Need to fetch the lad.”
He kissed me goodbye. I locked the door, stored the untouched steak and wine, then wept.
Sleep wouldnt come. Staring at the ceiling, I knew this had to end. Imagine if his wife found out and stormed in. Tomorrow, Id tell him
Tomorrow was Saturdayno rush. I hadnt shared my real news yet. Maybe that would push him to act.
By evening, the rain stopped, sunlight breaking through. I went for a walktired of being alone. Two stops later, I wandered into a shop, browsing slowly. Tea and biscuits. Only one till open, a short queue forming.
An elderly woman finished; next was a boy. Most lads buy sweets or crisps, but his haul was practical: pasta, cucumbers, bread, butter.
“Are you alone? Wheres your mum? Got money?” the woman behind him asked. The cashier eyed him skeptically.
“Leave him be. Good on the lad for helping,” a man grumbled.
“Teens ran off without paying last week,” the cashier countered.
“Ive got money,” the boy said firmly, digging in his pocket.
“Just scan it,” the man urged. “Were waiting.”
The boy turned, catching my eye. Without thinking, I stepped forward.
“Phew, made it.” I placed my tea and biscuits beside his items.
“Together?” the cashier asked suspiciously.
“Of course. Right, son?” I rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Why didnt you say your mum was here?” She began scanning.
Paid, we stepped out.
“Thanks. Got a bag?” he asked.
“What for?”
“For your things. Ill pay you back.” He reached for his pocket again.
“Keep them. Why are you shopping alone? How old are you?”
“Nine,” he said, deadpan. He looked barely seven.
“Do you live nearby? Ill walk youits late. Howd your mum let you go alone?”
“She cant walk. Got hit by a car,” he whispered.
“Im sorry. Your dad?”
“Left when he found out shed need a wheelchair.”
“Is there no treatment? What do doctors say?” I stopped walking.
“Dunno.” He shrugged.
“So you look after her?”
“Just shopping, mopping floors, laundry. She does the restcooking, washing up.”
“Youre so young.” My eyes stung.
“Im not little. Do you have kids?”
“No.” I sighed. “But Id want a son like you. Whats your name?”
“Andrew.”
“Andrew If I ever have a son, Ill name him Andrew.”
“Youre having a baby?”
Strange question from a child, but I couldnt lie.
“Yes. But Im not sure His fathers married. Has a son already.” I shook my head. “Youre too young for this talk.”
“Im not little,” he repeated, offended. “Thats my house.”
“Do you need money? Help?” I didnt want to leave him.
“Mum gets benefits. Dad pays child support. Were fine.”
“Go on, then. Shell be waiting.”
He ran off but paused halfway.
“Itll all work out!” he called.
Gone before I could reply. Walking home, I felt oddly calm. If a child could shoulder so much, surely I could too. If something happened to me, whod be there? NoI wouldnt get rid of this baby, whatever Henry decided. It didnt matter anymore.
Id take the promotion. Higher salaryId need it. I pressed a hand to my stomach, though it was likely just a cluster of cells. Boy or girl?
I thought of Andrew. *I should find out about his mums condition, raise funds if she needs surgery. And buy him a proper coathis is too small. Tomorrow, Ill ask the neighbours which flats theirs*
Children grow up fast when lifes hard. Meeting him now felt like fate. I couldve made a terrible mistake. Henry wont leave
