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Options.More roads in front of me. Abortion. Adoption. Alfie. Getting rid of our baby, a baby I desperately didn’t want but was still an innocent part of him and me? Giving that baby away wasn’t even an option. Alfie would never allow it and I knew that I didn’t have the strength to do it. So what was left? Raising a baby with Alfie? A man who had manipulated me into a pregnancy I didn’t want and had possibly murdered someone? I could almost laugh at myself, that I had allowed my life to devolve into this mess. That these were my choices now. It was ridiculous.
What if I wasn’t pregnant? What were my options then? Forgiving him and forgetting about what he had done? Moving on without him? I didn’t want any of those roads. I hated all of them. But I might have to pick one, the best one for me. Not Keira, not Alfie, not anyone.Me.And I would. I’d find the strength to do it. I felt broken and so fucking lost, but some old cobweb-covered part of me still remembered that I was Lola fucking O’Connell and I was a god-damned showgirl. Or at least, I had been. Before Alfie.
“If I’m…if it’s positive, if I keep it, I have to try with him. Keira, I—” My voice broke, unable to finish that sentence. There was no way to hide a pregnancy from Afie, no way to keep our baby away from him, and even if I could, I knew that I wouldn’t.
“I know.” Of course she knew. I’d grown up without my father. I wouldn’t do that to my own child if I could help it. But that raised more questions. What kind of father would Alfie be? The terror of pregnancy, of childbirth, of raising a baby I wasn’t ready for, sickened me.I can’t do this.
I closed my eyes. My head ached, my mind spun with questions unanswered, pain uneased, and confusion unresolved. I felt everything and understood nothing.
“And if it’s negative?” she asked.
I gritted my teeth, swallowing down pain so acute I could taste it.
“Then I have to let him go.” I had no choice. Not really. If he had done this, forgiving and forgetting wasn’t an option. Not anymore.
Keira squeezed my hand as the clock ran down and we watched the tiny piece of plastic tell me my future. I stared at it, reading the result over and over, a pit of resignation at the hell ahead of me settling into my stomach.
“Well, I guess now you know what you have to do.”
I stayed silent. There was nothing left to say. Did I know what I had to do?
Yeah.I did.
Seventy-Five
Wake up, little Lo. It’s your birthday.
I jerked awake, and for a moment I could smell my mum. I could smell the blueberry muffin she would wake me with on every birthday. I could feel her cuddling up to me in bed, telling me how much I’d grown since my last birthday and all the exciting things I was going to do before my next one. What would she say to me this year?
I was twenty four years old now. Since my twenty third birthday I had gotten into college. She would be so proud of that. I had designed an incredible garden. I had thrown myself into the clutches of an unstable, powerful, beautiful man. What would I do before my next birthday? Would she be proud of the road I was about to walk down?
The door handle squeaked and Keira came in holding two steaming mugs. A small package decked out in glitter wrapping paper was wedged under one arm.
“Morning, birthday girl.” She perched on the edge of the bed and placed one of the mugs on the bedside table. Tea. Perfect. “You slept for ages. It’s almost 2 in the afternoon.”
I groaned, forcing myself to sit up.
“I guess you needed the rest.” She was right. It seemed like my body had forced me into lockdown to give my brain a chance to process everything. “Are you in the mood for presents? Well, present, singular. I was going to get more but then we had a fight and I was feeling petty.” She shrugged and I snorted. I’d missed her.
“Give it,” I told her and she handed over the gift. I tore it open and found myself holding a blank page notebook. Handmade decoupage flowers lined the edges with my name painted in exquisite blush pink calligraphy on the front. A beautiful ribbon lay between the pages to mark my place. “Keira, it’s beautiful.”
“I know. It’s for you to design in or sketch or whatever. I was going to buy you a fancy one but I’m broke so I just got you a plain one and decorated it.” She shrugged again. I traced my fingers over my name, in awe of the level of detail and care that had gone into this. “There’s something else if you can handle it.” I looked up and found her expression hesitant. “It’s from him.” My heart lurched. Was Alfie here? “Don’t worry, that other guy dropped it off, the hot older one?”
“Elliot?” Relief coursed through me as she nodded.
“Yeah,” she sighed dramatically as she stood. “He can straighten out my daddy kink any day.”
“Gross,” I muttered to her retreating form as she left to get whatever Elliot had brought. She returned a moment later carrying a large Harrods box and matching bag identical to the ones my red dress and shoes had arrived in.
“Want me to open it?” she asked and I nodded. I couldn’t touch it. I hugged my knees to my chest as I watched her unwrap my gift. “Woah,” she breathed as she lifted the lid and opened the tissue paper to reveal an exquisite cocktail dress in evening blue. “He’s got good taste. Or at least his personal shopper does.”
“He won’t have used her. Not for this,” I said but I wasn’t so sure. The red dress had been a huge leap for Alfie and I hadthrown it back in his face. Maybe he wouldn’t give me the chance to do it again.
“There’s a card.” Keira handed it to me. The sight of his handwriting sent a sharp pain through my chest. I pressed my hand to it, trying to soothe it.
Lola,
You will do me the honour of joining me for dinner at Harrington House.