Loving my Billionaire Stepbrother's Baby

by Emilia Beaumont

  Vaguely as I paced down the pavement away from the store, away from Drake and everyone else inside, I could hear a baby cry. It sounded muffled and not really there. Like an echo of a long-ago wail.

  My thoughts started to collide with themselves, hitting and rebounding then coming back again, confusing me. My head was dizzy.

  Her turning up had been like a bad omen. Or maybe it was just what I needed to realise and finally admit to myself what I’d been thinking for weeks, but not wanting to address. That there was no hope; I was just like her.

  She hadn’t been able to look after me. She obviously felt nothing, no tug or pull to stay. I’d meant nothing to her. She’d felt nothing for me.

  And it scared me shitless that the same was happening to me. What did I see when I looked at my own baby?

  Emptiness.

  There was nothing there.

  My arms were empty.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Are you alright, luv?” a skinny elderly gentleman asked as he sat down beside me at the bus stop. He was dressed head to toe in brown tweed. The walking cane he had was brought up to his lap and rested on his bony knees.

  I glanced at him and took this all in but it felt surreal, like I wasn’t actually processing any of it. It was nighttime, the street was dark. What street I couldn’t say. I felt unsure, as if I were just waking up from a dream, glassy-eyed and trying to make sense of the real and dream world as they mingled together.

  “You’ve been sat there for hours. Plenty of buses have gone by and you haven’t got on any of them.”

  I shrugged and was surprised to hear my voice, croaky and sore, “No place to go. Not now.” My throat was raw. Had I been crying or screaming? Or both?

  “Surely not?” he asked. “A woman like you, someone is surely missing you. Especially this late at night.”

  I looked down at my cold empty hands and felt the dread well up inside me. It was a familiar feeling and I was terrified about what it meant.

  “Come on. You can’t sit out here all night. I live just across there. We’ll get you warmed up. A nice cup of tea and everything will be alright.”

  Tea again, I thought. I remembered I’d been in a department store that sold tea not long ago. Somewhere special. But it felt like a distant memory. Why had I been there?

  The old man seemingly taking my silence for consent, gently wrapped his long fingers around my arm and helped me stand. He guided me forward and once we had some momentum I followed him like a dazed, sleepy child. There was barely any traffic on the road and we managed to cross without having to go farther down the street to a pedestrian crossing. We went up a small garden path, if it could’ve been called that, it barely took four small strides to reach the front door of the terraced house.

  Once inside the old man made sure I was comfortably seated in a dark pink, high-backed, wing chair. He bustled away, the sound of his cane tapping quietly on the linoleum in the kitchen. Before I knew it he was back again and holding out a cup of builder’s tea; sweet and milky.

  An old electric fire surround by a lacquered wooden mantle was the focal point of the small sitting room. The room was lived in, smelled a little worn, like warm, dusty old books. My chair was set at an angle in front of the fire, and the second one, which the old man chose, was opposite mine, also by the fire.

  “Drink up. It’ll make you feel a bit better, I’m sure.”

  I nodded and took a sip and let the sugar do its work.

  “What’s you name?”

  “Vi,” I answered absently. “Where am I?” I asked which seemed to surprise him. His bushy eyebrows, which had gone grey a long time ago, rose up his wrinkled forehead.

  “Gosh, don’t you know where you are? You’re in Fulham, luv.”

  “Fulham? I don’t remember how I…” I scrunched up my eyes and tried to remember how I’d gotten there, miles away from the city centre. But the whole night was a blur. I remember feeling like I was spinning, bright lights against the dark black sky… but nothing much else. And god the screaming. I shut that part out.

  “How you got here?” the man finished for me.

  I nodded again.

  “Do you remember where you were perhaps? Maybe that’ll jog your memory.”

  “Tea… the tea rooms.”

  “Plenty of tea rooms in London.”

  “It was fancy. Old. There was something about the Queen—”

  “That’d be Fortnum’s then.”

  He must have seen my puzzlement and elaborated. “In Piccadilly? Fortnum and Masons, the one with the great big awning outside?”

  He didn’t need to have added the rest. As soon as he said Piccadilly a rush of memory came flooding back. The woman outside, the whisky, then rushing down the stairs and out of the department store… trying to breathe. The baby in my arms.

  Where was he?

  “Oh my god.” I said, as if the wind had been knocked out of me. “What have I done?”

  For being an old man of at least seventy he was quick, he leaned toward my chair and took the cup from hands that had been ready to tip over. Once he placed it down on an unseen table he took my hand. His was cold, but he squeezed mine.

  “Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not going to be okay. It’s never going to be okay,” I replied panic starting to rise… like it had done before. Flashes of memory came back. I was screaming, running down the road. Searching. God I’d searched everywhere. But I hadn’t been able to find him.

  “Tell me. What is it?” he implored, with genuine worry on his face now.

  “I think… oh god.” I tried again, “I think I lost my baby.”

  His eyes widened. They were a watery blue, I noticed. He was momentarily shocked but he soon recovered, becoming practical, like a soldier. Perhaps he had been one, I thought.

  “Now. There’s no need to panic. We will find your baby. How long ago was this? We’ll need to phone the police right away of course.”

  I put my head in my hands and sobbed. I couldn’t stop. Not even to answer the kind gentlemen’s questions. He was being so nice, doing everything he could to help, and all I could do was cry and lose it all over again.

  He gave up trying to pry information from me as I shook, my whole body trembling from the pain and exertion.

  I heard a quiet ding of an old fashioned telephone, the sound it makes when the receiver is put back into the cradle, and the man came back. “Vi, the police are on their way. We’ll get this sorted don’t you even fret,” he said trying to reassure me.

  But I’d looked hadn’t I? Searched and searched. My poor baby boy. How could I have been so careless?

  Drake was never going to forgive me.

  The kettle was boiled again and another round of tea was brought to me. The old man helped me wrap my hands around the cup. I was halfway finished, sipping the sweet liquid slowly when there was a loud knock on the door.

  “They’re here,” the man said with relief and left the small room to answer the door. I put the cup down and got ready for what was about to happen, but the moment I saw the officers come into the room, their fluorescent yellow waistcoats on top of thick black jackets reflecting in the light, the tears began again. They were just about to find out that I was the world’s worst mother. How could I lose my baby?

  A third figure stepped into the room, at first I caught the movement and thought it was the old man, but the figure hastily brushed in between the two officers and came at me.

  Drake’s eyes came level with mine. He wrapped me in his arms as I cried.

  “I’m so sorry, Drake. I’m so sorry I lost him.”

  “Shh, you’re alright now.”

  “But it’s not all right, he’s gone. I’ve ruined everything. You’ll never forgive me.”

  “Of course I will, don’t be silly. Who’s gone?”

  The old man had given us some room and allowed his house to be taken over by strangers but he coughed to get the officer’s atte
ntion. “The baby? Did you find the baby?”

  I looked up. I didn’t dare breath as I watched Drake’s face crease.

  “The baby?” Drake asked. “He’s at home. Where else would he be—”

  “Oh thank god for that,” the old man interjected.

  I shook my head. My thoughts and memories now even more confused than ever. Drake wouldn’t lie about such a thing like that, but it still didn’t make sense. I’d spent hours wandering around looking for our baby, trying to find where I’d left him. Trying to remember the last time I’d had him in my arms.

  “But… he was with me. And then he wasn’t.”

  “He’s home, Vi. He’s safe.”

  “He was in my arms, crying. I had him in my arms. I lost him!”

  “No,” he said firmly, taking a hold of my upper arms. “You didn’t. Sigrid ran after you, you gave him to her and disappeared in the crowd along Old Bond Street. We didn’t know where you were.”

  “So I didn’t lose him?”

  He shook his head. “No, my love. You didn’t.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise.” He wrapped me up again in his arms as he knelt in front of me. “I was so worried, Vi. I thought I’d lost you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Are you ready?”

  Drake was standing by the lift in the apartment, one weekend bag was in his hand. Another he’d put down to block the lift’s sensors to keep it open.

  I turned in the entranceway and looked back at Sigrid, who had Leah on her hip. My feet led me back to her and I hugged Leah. “You be good for Aunty Siggy, okay?”

  Leah’s whole manner turned shy and sad, her little head tilted down looking away from me.

  “Go, we’ll be fine,” Sigrid encouraged. My eyes flickered to the bassinet by the sofa. My baby boy was in there and though I wanted to stay, to try again, to get through whatever was going on in my head and make it up to him, I knew I needed to go. At least for a little while.

  It had been Drake’s idea, a few days up north by the sea. Clean air, a quiet, no-stress environment, and no kids. Just us.

  After coming home that awful night, even though I was exhausted, I’d insisted on staying in the nursery, watching over our baby boy. I didn’t leave his side for days. I became obsessed. I wouldn’t allow myself to fall asleep even for a minute for fear that something would happen to him. I wouldn’t let what happened the last time happen again. But it got to the point where I stopped eating and I panicked when he was out of my sight. And even though I’d still yet to feel that perfect bond all other mothers seemed to easily experience with their newborns, mine was yet to surface. Yet I was determined, none of that would stop me from making sure he was safe. I may not have been able to stop him from crying with a simple touch, but I could make sure he was fed, changed, and looked after.

  The only problem was it became an obsession. With not eating, I’d dropped pounds, making myself ill and could barely move from exhaustion.

  And Drake had put his foot down. We were to go away; he said he was going to look after me for a change. “Like I should’ve from the start,” he’d said.

  All my fight had been wiped away with those words, and though I dearly wanted to stay with our children, I knew, deep in my soul, that something was still not right, and for all our sakes, for our entire family, I had to do what Drake said just this one time.

  I gave Leah a final kiss on the top of her head and turned. I couldn’t look at the baby again, I wouldn’t have been able to leave.

  The lift doors closed and Drake and I stood in silence while we descended to the garage. “This is for the best,” he said quietly. He must’ve glanced over at me and saw the tears streaking their way down my face, a leaky tap that just wouldn’t stop. It was a wonder I wasn’t dehydrated. But he wrapped an arm around me, our bodies lining up, pressed up against each other.

  It felt good to be held again. I’d missed him so much.

  “Please don’t cry. They’ll be perfectly fine with Sigrid,” he said. And though I knew he didn’t mean anything by it all, it still stung. They would be safe with Sigrid, there was no doubt about that. But the whole situation that we were in was proof that I couldn’t be trusted… I wasn’t fit or able to be a proper mother to them in my state.

  “I think you might have to get used to the tears. They don’t seem to want to go away,” I said and forced a weak smile.

  “They will. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but I promise you we’ll get through this. I’ll help you get through this. I hate seeing you cry.”

  The lift dinged announcing its arrival in the garage and the doors slid open.

  “You know we could’ve gone somewhere warm. We didn’t have to stay in England.”

  “I needed to stay close, you know that.”

  I felt his chin bob upon my head, nodding. He was behind me, his arms around my body as we stared out at the water. The sea was a battleship grey-blue colour, cold and blustery. Certainly not the best time to come, but the Northumbrian coastline seemed to suit and echo my mood. Bright sunshine and sparkling waters would’ve irritated me. No, I needed to work through my issues, and not paste over them and pretend.

  “Yeah, but the Med is so much nicer.”

  “It’s just different here. Besides, I wouldn’t have been able to get on a plane. And I know it probably would’ve been the same amount of travel time down to Nice, but flying as opposed to driving feels like it would put even more distance between us and the children.”

  “Fair enough. Next time then.”

  “Yeah, next time,” I repeated.

  From inside the house a trilling noise I’d become used to sounded.

  “You better get that,” I said, knowing he would anyway. We’d only been at the rural house near the old seaside and fishing town of Amble for a day, and yet it seemed like that noise never stopped. He was always needed for something; another emergency or decision on which he had to be consulted.

  “Sorry,” he breathed into my ear. “I won’t be long. Later on, if you want, I’ll set up the fire pit on the deck and we can watch the stars.”

  “That’ll be nice.” If it ever happened, I wanted to add.

  The cosiness of his embrace left me and a few moments later the noise inside stopped. All that was left was the soothing ever-present roar of waves crashing upon the slick, dangerous rocks. It was like an aggressive meditative state listening to the sound of the wild North Sea. That along with the battering wind, unrelenting and ever present on the coastline, definitely helped clear my mind.

  I grabbed the thick woollen blanket and draped it over my legs and body after easing myself into a dove-grey rattan sun lounger. The nightmare of that day at Fortnum’s peeked around a corner in my mind, wanting, no, demanding attention. I had to deal with it sometime or other. If I kept pushing it away I would never find solace. I had to figure out what I wanted to do if it was indeed her, Mandy, my mother. Back from the past.

  Drake was back sooner than I was expecting after his phone call and I began to think the worst.

  “Is everything all right. It wasn’t Siggy was it? The kids, are they okay?”

  “Stop,” he said. “Breathe. It was just work. I’m sure everything is still fine back home.”

  I nodded and gave him an apologetic smile.

  “We can call them again if you want, though? If it’ll put your mind at ease.”

  “No, I’ve already called enough today. Sigrid will be getting sick of me.”

  “Never. So, what were you just thinking about?”

  “What makes you think I was thinking about anything?”

  He sat down close to my legs on the tail end of the lounger and then leaned forward, his fingers reaching up to touch my forehead. “You get a tiny frown line, just here, when you’re really thinking about something. You might not believe it, but I do know you, you’re my wife… I know when the cogs of your gorgeous mind are working overtime. So, come on, tell me. Are you thinking about that
day again?”

  “No, well yes. But not that. Not what we’ve been over. Not about the baby.”

  “You mean what happened before the shower, when you arrived at the store?”

  A sudden thickness in my throat caught me by surprise and I had trouble swallowing it away.

  “Did Sigrid not mention it?”

  “She didn’t go into detail, except to say that someone upset you.”

  “God, I don’t even know if it’s her and she’s already disrupted my life so much and caused so much trouble.” Drake sat puzzled but he didn’t interrupt to ask questions, he just let me talk. “And that’s not to say that I’m trying to absolve myself of what happened—it was as much my fault than anyone’s. I shouldn’t have drunk that whisky knowing it wouldn’t mix well with the painkillers.”

  “I don’t blame you for anything, not that day, not ever.”

  I nodded, it was nice to hear him say that but that wouldn’t stop me from blaming myself; I was severely on the hook by my own standards.

  “Who was she?” he asked gently. His eyes were still sad, worried, but needing to know. He was ready to try and fix everything in my fucked-up world again. He looked like he was ready to fight for me.

  “I think the woman was my mother.”

  He covered his mouth, stroking the stubble on his face, as he digested that bit of information, then a beat later, without needing to say a word he edged closer and hugged me. I let a few tears spill. Mostly tears of relief; for some reason telling him had somehow lessened my burden.

  He smoothed his thumbs over my cheekbones, wiping away my tears, and held my face. “If it was her, what do you think you want to do about it? Does it change anything about your life? And more importantly do you want it to?”

  “I honestly don’t know. And it’s probably the reason why I’m such a mess right now. But I do think it was her…”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her before.”

  “Recently?” Drake asked alarmed.

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “The hospital, I think. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced by it.” I paused to remember my dream. Had it been a dream? The woman in my room, holding my baby. “Drake, she was there a few days before you got me discharged. I thought they were dreams. Plus when she was outside the store, she knew the baby was a boy. She was looking around wondering where he was. God, she was in the hospital the whole time, in the nursery, looking at him.”