The Angel Named Andrew
Emily was already dressed when Gregory stepped into the office.
“Are you alone?” he asked, moving closer.
“Yes.”
“Ill stop by tonight. Ive got good news for you,” Gregory murmured, lowering his voice. Just as he reached to embrace her, footsteps sounded outside the door. He jerked back and retreated.
“See you tonight,” he said, slipping out.
Waiting by the lift, Emily still hoped he might follow, that shed have a moment to ask about the news. Had he finally decided to leave his wife? What if he stayed the night? Shed need to cook. 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 prepare. The lift arrived at last.
Back in her flat, she tossed the meat into the microwave to defrost before changing, scanning the room. Clean enough.
Early on, Gregory had complained about his wifehow she didnt work, yet still couldnt manage dinner, too busy with shopping and gyms. Emily remembered. She always cleaned thoroughly and cooked something delicious. He rarely ate, just took a bite. Most wound up in the bin. He visited twice a week, when taking his son to football practice. They had an hour. She never cried, never nagged, never asked for more. The perfect mistress.
Her older sister had dated a married man for years. He never left his wife. When she finally ended it, he dropped dead of a heart attack. Emily had sworn never to get involved with married men. But life laughs at vows.
Before Gregory, shed dated a man for four years. No proposal. Then she spotted him in a café with another woman. She packed his things and left them by the door.
She cried all night, later regretting the haste. She tried dating others, but nothing felt right. Her ex, Oliver, used to drive her to work. Now she wasted hours on the bus. She quit, found a job two stops away, and walked instead.
At the new office, the deputy directora handsome man who vaguely resembled that actor Hiddlestonnoticed her immediately. A colleague warned her he was married with a son. Emily liked him anyway. A man like that was pure fantasy. She resolved to keep her distance.
She left the Christmas party early. Ice coated the pavement. In a dark alley, she nearly slippeduntil someone steadied her. Gregory had followed. He walked her home but didnt ask for coffee.
Maybe that won her over. Maybe it was just time to fall again. Soon, flowers, chocolates, or cards appeared on her desk each morning. Who could resist?
A month later, they slept together. Emily told herself it was just sex. Since when did the heart listen?
Gregory visited twice a week. Exactly the length of his sons football sessions. Eventually, the scheduled affection grated. She decided to end itbut he preempted her, declaring hed leave his wife. She suspected something. He wanted a life with Emily. To prove it, he stayed the night. Dizzying. She believed him because she wanted to.
Then his son fell ill. No training, no visits. She resolved not to let him backbut when he rang the bell, she ran to the door. She couldnt refuse.
She waited. He delayed. Once, he claimed hed tried to leave, but his wife swallowed pills. Luckily, he returned in time to call an ambulance. So, nothing changed.
Emily barely finished cooking when the doorbell chimed. She checked her reflection, satisfied, then opened the doorstraight into his arms.
“Smells amazing,” he said.
“I made steak. Hungry?”
“No time.” Kissing her hungrily, he pulled her to the sofa, already draped with fresh linens. After, they lay side by side.
“You had news,” she reminded him. “I do too.”
“Good news?”
“Dont know. You first.”
“You know Mr. Thompsons retiring?” Gregory asked. She stayed silent. “I spoke to the director. He agreedyoull take over the department. Youre not happy?”
“I am,” Emily lied, but her smile faltered. She buried her face in his shoulder to hide the tears. Shed hoped
“Shame youll be on another floor, but fewer rumors. I can barely control myself when I see you at work.” He leaned in, but she pulled away. “Your turn. Whats your news?”
“Sure you wont eat?” She stood.
“Cant. Blimeytimes up. Need to fetch my son.”
He kissed her goodbye and left. She locked the door, stored the uneaten steak and wine, then wept.
Sleep wouldnt come. Staring at the ceiling, she knew it had to end. The last thing she needed was his wife storming in. Tomorrow, shed tell him
Tomorrow was Saturday. She had until Monday. She hadnt shared her real newsmaybe that would push him to act.
By evening, the rain stopped. Sun emerged. Emily decided to walk. Two stops later, she wandered into a shop, drifting past shelves. She picked up tea and biscuits. One till open, a short queue.
An old woman finished. Next, a boy placed pasta, cucumbers, bread, and butter on the belt.
“Wheres your mum? Got money?” asked the woman behind him. The cashier eyed him suspiciously.
“Blimey, give the lad a break. Should be glad hes helping,” a man grumbled.
“Teens keep nicking stuff,” the cashier muttered.
“Ive got money,” the boy insisted, digging in his pocket.
“Just scan it,” the man urged. “Well be here all day.”
The boy turnedand locked eyes with Emily. Without thinking, she stepped forward.
“Phew, made it.” She added her items to his.
“Together?” the cashier asked.
“Of course. Right, son?” She rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Why didnt you say your mum was here?” The cashier started scanning.
Outside, Emily paid.
“Thanks. Got a bag?” he asked.
“Why?”
“For your stuff. Ill give you the money back.” He reached into his pocket.
“Keep the tea and biscuits. Why are you shopping alone? How old are you?”
“Nine,” he said, straight-faced.
He looked barely seven, but she didnt press.
“You live nearby? Ill walk you. Isnt your mum worried?”
“She cant walk. Got hit by a car.”
“Im sorry. Your dad?”
“Left when he found out shed need a wheelchair.”
“Can anything be done? What do doctors say?” She stopped walking.
“Dunno.” He shrugged.
“So, you take care of her?”
“Nah, just shopping, mopping, laundry. She does the restcooking, washing up.”
“Youre so young.” Her eyes stung.
“Not that young. You got kids?”
“No,” she sighed. “But Id want a son like you. Whats your name?”
“Andrew.”
“Andrew If I have a son, Ill name him Andrew.”
“Youre having a baby?”
A bizarre question from a child. Yet she couldnt lie.
“Yes. But Im not sure His fathers married. Has a son already.” She paused. “Youre too young for this.”
“Not that young,” he repeated, offended. “Thats my house.”
“Do you need money? Help?” She didnt want to leave him.
“Mums got her pension. Dad pays child support. Were fine.”
“Go on, then. Shell be waiting.”
“Right.” He dashed off but turned halfway.
“Everythingll be alright!” he called.
Gone before she could reply. Walking home, calm settled over her. If a child could handle so much, so could she. If something happened to her, whod be there? Noshe wouldnt end the pregnancy, whatever Gregory decided. It didnt matter anymore.
Shed take the promotion. More money, and shed need it. She pressed a hand to her stomachjust a clump of cells now. Boy or girl?
She thought of Andrew. *Ill find out his mums diagnosis. Raise funds if she needs surgery. Buy him a proper coatthat ones too small. Tomorrow, Ill ask neighbors which flats theirs*
Children grow up fast when lifes hard. How timely, meeting him. Shed nearly made a terrible mistake. Gregory would never leave.
Some encounters change everythingsteering us from folly, like angels. They say if you want to touch an angel, just hug a child.
What had he said? *Everythingll be alright.* And it would be.
