Trusted by You

by Amy Muscat

  Peyton nods her head in agreement.

  “Then as I'm about to leave, she shouts out that Blake took the job as being her guard. I didn’t believe her at first, then she said a couple of other things, and then I just walked away from her; it was that or go over and punch her face in. When I get home, Blake doesn’t answer the phone to me, so I started my packing– you know how long that takes me.”

  She starts laughing. “About three/ four hours?”

  A chuckle bursts from me. It amazed me how well she knew me, but then saying that; I knew Peyton almost inside and out. “It took me about three hours to pack.”

  “I knew it. You always did take forever to do those things.”

  “I do,” I nod in agreement to her statement.

  “What happened then?” Peyton asks, rubbing her expanding belly, moving her hand in a circular motion.

  “Blake, finally, came to my place. I asked him why he hadn’t answered his phone and he told me its battery had died. He comes in telling me he has something to tell me. We sit down and he tells me that he has no choice but to take this job. Rob had already signed a contract with Lucy’s Dad, and because there was no one else with the skills that the job requires, that basically if Blake doesn’t take the job; Lucy's Dad would sue Rob.”

  “No! What a fucking joke. Why couldn’t Keller take the job? He has the skills for it.”

  I hesitate; Blake had told me that the reason that Rob hadn’t given his son the job was because he didn’t think his head would be in it. He said that his head was always worrying about Peyton, her pregnancy, and Ivy. I didn’t know if Peyton wanted to hear that, didn’t know if it would cause any trouble with them.

  “What? Tell me, Lottie,” Peyton demands.

  I tell her. But instead of being angry or upset, she just shakes her head; almost resigned. “That man is far too protective.”

  Yes, he is.

  “But it’s better than him being oblivious, or that he didn’t care.”

  “I suppose so…”

  “So anyway, there's no one else for the job, and Blake has to do it. I got the hump, insecurities reared their ugly heads, and we had a little thing, then we were alright again. Then I told him about London, and he just fucking lost it.” I tell her waving my hands about.

  “What do you mean, he lost it? Lost it how?”

  “He just got really pissed off, asking when I found out and when I was going to tell him– like I had purposely kept it from him. Then asking why she couldn’t travel, and just because she had a child doesn’t mean she couldn’t travel. He said he was disappointed. Then I said something about me not liking the fact that he’ll be bodyguarding Lucy, but I had to deal with it, and he had to deal with the fact that I had to go away for work sometimes. I might have brought up the fact that she had cheated on him before…” I say sheepishly, looking at Peyton wondering what was going through her head.

  “Lottie…” She says sounding exasperated.

  “I know! I know I shouldn’t have said that. I apologised. I felt really bad; it was a shitty thing for me to say, I know that.”

  “Yes, it was. But sometimes some things just come out when you're arguing with your partner, and you end up saying shit that you regret.”

  “I do regret saying that, so much. But then he said that he doesn’t want to even look at me anymore and that he would see me when I get back from England, and started walking out.” I bend my head and place it in my waiting hands, feeling the tissue rub against my forehead as I did. “Then I told him not to walk away and that he was a coward. I was so angry Pey, you don’t understand. I had kind of-of accepted that he would be working with his whore ex-girlfriend, but he couldn’t accept me going to London. I don’t understand it, I don’t. Then I got upset and phoned you.” I look up at her pitifully, silently pleading with her to understand me, and what was going through my head, to help me out somehow. “I've never felt like this before Peyton. Never. It scares me sometimes. Scares the living fucking daylights outta me.”

  My best friend looked like she was about to cry herself. “And how do you feel about him, Lott's?”

  Taking the plunge, I tell her the truth. “I love him, Pey. I love him so much that I can feel it in my entire being. I feel like if there were no more Blake, then my world would explode into millions of tiny little pieces. Is that normal? Is that how you feel about Keller?” Water spills from my eyes as I'm talking, but I don’t wipe the tears away; there's no point, mores only going to replace them.

  “Oh, Lott's…Yes, it’s normal. That is exactly how I feel about Keller, and if I were to lose him again… well, I don’t know what I’d do.” Peyton says as she wipes her tears away, and then mine. “When did you know you loved him?”

  “Last week. We were at dinner with his family. I told you I’d met them, but I never told you how it was his Mum that made me realise it. We were in the bathroom, and when I was washing my hands, she asks me if I loved her son. It threw me for a loop, Pey. It totally bulldozed me. I tried to deny it, saying how I had never been in love before, and all that jazz. But then, I don’t know; I felt this big bang– if that’s the right word? I don’t know what it was, but what I do know is that right then and there, I realised how I couldn’t live without the stupid man.” I'm a sniffling, dishevelled mess.

  And that’s when Keller walks in with Ivy in tow.

  “Momma! Where you?” Ivy’s sweet voice calls out.

  I hurry to wipe under my eyes with my fingers and scrub my nose with the tissue, just as Ivy comes around the corner.

  “There you are– Aunty Lottie!” She shouts in excitement, running over to me and jumping on my lap, giving me a cuddle; I squeeze her back. When you take comfort from a four-year-old, you know you're a sad bitch.

  “Hi, Munchkin. How have you been?” I ask my favorite small person. “What have you been up to today?”

  “I'm okay Aunty Lottie. Me and daddy went to the park, and I played on the swings and the slide; it was fun,” she grins, her brown eyes sparkling.

  “Okay? What happened to otay?” I ask her curiously.

  She shakes her head sadly at me. “I say it, wight, now, Aunty Lottie,” she tells me proudly, and I have to hold in a chuckle at her innocent mistake.

  “Ah, you're a big girl now, huh?”

  “Yep.” She nods. “I am.”

  “Well don’t grow up too quickly, okay? I like my little Munchkin.”

  “I think that every day,” Keller's voice makes me look up at him.

  He smiles down at me, then stops and takes a closer look. He frowns.

  “Princess, why don’t you go upstairs and play with your dolls?” Keller says to Ivy, holding a hand out to her. She grabs it and gets off my lap, but not before giving me a kiss on my cheek.

  “Okay daddy,” she says before running out of the room. I hear her feet thud up the stairs; then it all goes quiet.

  “Lottie… what's wrong?” Keller asks me in a concerned tone.

  I tell him everything that has happened, and his face switches between shocked, sympathetic, pissed off, and then finally settling on worried.

  “He can be such a fucking idiot sometimes. I'm sorry, Lott's.”

  “You don’t need to apologise for him, and it wasn’t just him, Keller; it was me too. I'm just upset that he walked away.”

  “Well, as I said he can be an idiot sometimes. Don’t worry you’ll figure it out,” Keller bends and presses a chaste kiss on my head. “Right, I'm gonna go start dinner, you staying Lott's?”

  “Yeah, if you guys don’t mind, that would be great.”

  “Of course we don’t mind. Come on, you can help me chop up the salad,” Peyton says as she heaves herself up from the sofa.

  I get up, too, and we walk into the kitchen where we start the dinner preparations.

  PING!

  I scramble for my phone as I hear the text message tone, thinking that it’s Blake texting me. But when I look at the screen of my iPhone, the disappointment that
crashes into me is astounding.

  It’s a message from Hayley.

  Hey, Lottie, I talked to my mom, and she said she’s fine for me to come to London with you.

  Whoop! I've sent over your itinerary, did you get it?

  I've booked my flight, and my hotel room.

  I wanted to ask if you wanted to meet at the airport or did you want me to pick you up in a cab?

  Hayley x

  I message her back with a heavy heart.

  Hey Hales,

  Yes, I got it, thank you.

  That’s great! I'm glad you can come; you’ll love London. Tell your Mum I say hello.

  Erm pick me up in a taxi, and we’ll go from here.

  X

  I was happy that Hayley was coming with me, at least I'd have someone to talk to while I'm there.

  Note to self: Take Hayley sightseeing.

  A couple of seconds later, I get a text back.

  Okay, I'll see you Monday morning

  X

  Sending off a quick text back and saying okay, I lay back down in bed, staring at my phone; willing it to ring or ping with a message from Blake.

  But it’s no use; he doesn’t call or text me. Not even a dropped call. So I suck up my pride and call him, after a couple of rings, it goes to his voicemail. So I try again, and again, and again. But no answer, so I lay my phone on my bedside table, pick up a book, and immerse myself in a love story that’s better than mine.

  IT’S HALF PAST FOUR in the morning, and I'm waiting for Hayley to pick me up.

  I'm not in the best of moods right now; one: because it’s too bloody early, and two: because I still haven’t heard anything from Blake. He hasn’t picked up his phone to me, and it’s pissing me off.

  The man was– in my opinion at least– acting like a fucking child. Yes, we had an argument; yes things were said that shouldn’t have been said, but fucking Hell! At least I tried to get in touch with him so we could sort this shit out.

  My phone pinging brings me from my thoughts, and I pull my phone from my pocket; there's a message from Hayley telling me she was outside.

  I stand from my bed and walk over to my suitcase. Pulling up the handle I drag it along with me out to the hallway, where I pick up my bag. I double-check that I've got everything I need, and walk out the door; making sure to lock up behind me.

  I walk out and see Hayley standing outside of the taxi, beaming. Bless her she looks so excited; she even has an I <3 London t-shirt on. Bless her.

  “Hi love, you ready for this?” I ask her.

  She grins. “Hell yes I'm ready; can not wait until we get to London. Isn’t it like everyone’s go-to destination?”

  The cabbie takes my suitcase from me and places it in the boot of the car, next to Hayley’s.

  “Thank you,” I say to him before I gesture for Hayley to get in. “Erm… yeah, I suppose it is. But then most people in England wants to come to New York. It’s just one of those things.”

  Hayley agrees with me, nodding her head.

  “So your Mum was fine with you coming?”

  “Yeah, she said to me that if I didn’t go then she wouldn’t talk to me again,” she laughs and I join in with her. Her Mum sounded like a hoot. “Her leg is fine, I just had to make sure my Dad was all on top of things. But my Dad was basically pushing me out of the door to go; said that I'm like a nagging parent.” She grins ruefully at me.

  I smile back at her.

  The normally quiet and introverted Hayley seemed to be coming out of her shell, I thought as she started talking again.

  “So do you normally sleep throughout the flight, or are you wide awake?” She asks.

  “Erm… it differs. Sometimes I sleep, sometimes I'm reading, but as it’s almost a ten-hour flight, and it’s not even five in the morning: I'll most probably go to sleep. If we have no delays, we should be in London by nine o’clock tonight, England time. So we’ll probably be knackered by that time. We could go grab some food, and start fresh Tuesday if you want? It’s up to you love, I don’t need to see all the sights, I've seen them before, but if you wanted to go anywhere, I wouldn't mind.” I tell her, honestly.

  “You know, I remember the first time I arrived in New York City. I had felt like an ant surrounded by thousands of both people and buildings, and I would be trod on if I made the wrong move. I remember being amazed by the sheer amount of skyscrapers, the iconic yellow taxis, the people; everything. I remember my first time going to Central Park, my first time standing at the top of the Empire State Building, Times Square. I remember my first day at work at my Dads’ company; I was just a Proof-reader back then. My Dad had told me that he wanted to work me up; that he didn’t think it was right for me to get the good job just because I was his daughter. I fucking worked hard for my position at the company. I finished my courses online, got my degree in English and Literature, and started working harder. I got to where I am now, because I worked hard, not because it’s my Dads’ company. People don’t realise that, though.”

  “Wow, I never knew that. Maybe it was ignorant of me, and I'm sorry to tell you, but I thought that, too.” She admits sheepishly, her cheeks flushing pink with her guilt.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah, I'm sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” I say waving her worries away. “Most people assume that, it’s not you being ignorant, love, don’t worry.”

  “It was just my initial thought, but then I saw how hard you worked, and my respect for you grew,” She says honestly.

  “Aw. Well, thanks, hun. But as I said, it’s fine.”

  She nods her head, and we start to talk about menial things. Forty-five minutes later we’re at LaGuardia airport. We check our bags in; go through passport control, the numerous metal detectors, we go to grab a coffee from Starbucks, and then we go to our terminal.

  We only have to wait about an hour and then we’re walking onto the plane, and taking our seats in Business Class.

  NINE HOURS AND A little bit of turbulence later, we’ve arrived at London Heathrow airport.

  As we were touching down, Hayley leans her head against the small window and looks out in amazement. “There’s so much greenery. Where are the skyscrapers? Where are the buildings?” She asks, eyes popping out of their sockets.

  Giggling, I say, “Sweetie, we’re in Middlesex, there're no skyscrapers. There are only a couple of tower blocks and houses around this part. Just wait until we get onto the motorway; you’ll be bored shitless. There's nothing for miles.”

  “That’s so strange,” she mummers. “Wait, what’s a motorway?” Shaking my head, I tell her it’s her equivalent of a highway/ freeway. “Oh right…”

  It takes us ten minutes to get off the plane, and it takes another forty to get our bags and get out of the terminal. We’re standing in front of the car hire place now, waiting for our car.

  “There you go, miss,” the man working for the car company says, handing me some keys. “It’s the black Lexus in bay three. I just need you to sign some forms, and then you're good to go.”

  He hands me over a clipboard with some paperwork, and I sign everywhere that needs to be signed, and with a goodbye, Hayley and I walk over to bay number three pulling our suitcases behind us.

  “Ahh, this looks nice,” I say about the car in question. It’s an upgrade to mine, and really nice. I press the button, and the boot pops open. We deposit our cases in.

  Hayley is about to walk around to the driver’s side when I stop her.

  “Hale’s, other side love.”

  “What?” She asks confused.

  “I'm that side, you're on this side,” I say pointing over my shoulder with my thumb.

  “Shit. Right, gotta remember that.” She replies smiling ruefully.

  “Just you wait until we’re on the road; gotta drive on the other side of the road.”

  “Which is the left?” Nodding, I tell her she’s correct. “So strange.” I just laugh as I walk past her and get into the driving sea
t. I start it up, and we get going.

  IN THE TWO HOURS it takes us to get to our hotel in central London, Hayley stares out of the window in stunned amazement at everything, asking questions about this, that, and the other. In between laughing at her and yawning; I'm ready for my bed.

  We arrive at the Hilton Hotel in Canary Wharf, check in, and take our bags to our rooms– they are, luckily, next to each other. We quickly wash up, and head down to grab something to eat in the restaurant that’s on the bottom floor.

  “Okay, so what do you recommend that I eat?” Hayley asks me, looking over the menu.

  I look down at the menu too, and there's nothing on here that screams ‘British food’. Or at least there's nothing on here that you can’t get anywhere else in the world. “Hmm… I'm going to say to just order what you fancy because there's nothing distinctively British on this menu. Unless you want to count the cottage pie, but I'm pretty sure you can eat that anywhere.” I tell her.

  “Oh.” She says in slightly disappointed voice.

  “Don’t worry hun, tomorrow I'm gonna take you out for some serious London food.”

  “Oh yeah? And what will that be?” she asks curiously.

  I grin at her from across the table. “Pie, mash, and liquor.”

  “THAT LOOKS DISGUSTING.”

  I look up from where I was placing my purse back into my bag, and I take in Hayley’s face; it’s awash in shock-horror as she looks down at her plate.

  I laugh out loud at her expression.

  “Yes, it does. But trust me; it’s fucking lovely.” I tell her nodding encouragingly at her to eat.

  She hesitantly picks up her cutlery, cuts into her pie, scoops some mash onto her fork, and dips it back in to get some liquor. But before she does, I tell her to wait. “What? What's wrong?”

  “Vinegar.”

  “Vinegar?”

  “Yeah; you’ve gotta put some vinegar all over first, it gives it that little kick.” I wave her off as she looks at me weirdly. I lean over and pick up the bottle of vinegar (the non chilli one) and smother both hers and mine in vinegar. “Done! Eat, eat.” I encourage.