I could almost see it; my life was going to be one long and painful, humiliating Hell. People would look down their noses at me everywhere I went. I would be the one who couldn’t satisfy her celebrity husband and let him walk all over her with anything female. I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it other than stand and watch for fear of losing my daughter. I would be a laughing stock, and the worst thing was part of me still wanted that because I loved him so much. I seriously was a worthless piece of shit.
Sadness ate me up to the point where I’d cried so much that my tears had dried up and I’d laid there a hiccupping, soggy mess. I thought I’d hit a depressing low when I was pregnant and alone, but this low, this was lower than I ever thought possible. I felt kind of dead inside, like my heart had been broken irrevocably and nothing would ever be able to fix it.
When I woke in the morning, my eyes stung with tiredness. The sounds of banging and drilling filled my ears, so I sat up, confused for a second where I was before I remembered the finer details of my predicament. My gaze settled on the alarm clock, and I was shocked to see it was past ten in the morning. I hadn’t slept in this late since I’d given birth almost two years ago.
I sat in bed for a long time, just listening to people crashing around in the room next to mine, people talking and relaying instructions. When I couldn’t stand not knowing what was going on any longer, I pushed myself out of bed and looked around for something I could get changed into. I’d fallen asleep in my clothes last night, so I was sure to look an absolute mess. I had no idea where Carson had put my bin bag full of possessions, though. After not finding my own bag, I ventured through the door Carson had said was the wardrobe. My eyes widened in shock. Rows and rows of expensive, designer clothes hung in colour-coordinated lines along both sides of the room. Although there were probably enough clothes for him to wear something and then discard it, there was still plenty of rack space so I’d be able to fit my small, limited wardrobe inside, too.
My hand reached out, touching the sleeve of a charcoal grey suit which hung there. My mind was already imagining what Carson would look like decked out in such finery; I’d never seen him in a suit before. His rack of jumpers caught my attention, so I walked over, choosing a black hoodie at random. Shrugging out of my crumpled T-shirt, I pulled his hoodie on before smoothing back my hair and attempting to tidy it.
The banging grew louder as I crept out of my room. I stopped in the doorway of Sasha’s new bedroom, seeing Carson plus two workmen, all working to put her furniture together and make her room safe. I hadn’t even heard them arrive.
They were already halfway through arranging her room with exquisite, white wood furniture. In the corner of the room sat the most beautiful chair I had ever seen in my life. It was an armchair, but the arms and back of it were made entirely from old-fashioned teddy bears. It was stunning, and my hand was itching to touch it and feel how soft it was.
My eyes suddenly settled on Carson. He was on his knees, hammer in hand, screws precariously placed between his lips as he frowned down at the instructions on how to assemble a changing table. Without my consent, a smile crept onto my lips because his cute little bewildered expression caught me off-guard and made my heart stutter.
“Excuse me, Miss.”
I jumped as someone spoke behind me and sidestepped the doorway. “Sorry,” I muttered, watching as two men carried in a seven-foot-tall toy giraffe. As they passed me, a little tag fluttered to the floor at my feet. I stooped quickly, picking it up. My eyes widened and a strangled choking sound came from the back of my throat when I saw the price of the giraffe was just under a thousand pounds.
Carson noticed me then. “Hey, sorry, did we wake you?”
I gulped, swallowing my shock and horror that he’d spent that much money on a stuffed toy. I looked up at him, fiddling with the tag absentmindedly. An extremely-uncomfortable sensation crept over me because I realised I was standing there in one of his jumpers after I’d cried in front of him last night and told him to get it over with and rape me if he was going to. I didn’t know whether to mention it and apologise or not.
“No, I…” I smiled politely as one of the giraffe guys, now empty-handed, walked back out of the room picking up a bag full of plug socket covers. “I had to get up sooner or later,” I finished. “You guys look busy,” I muttered, eyeing the beautiful cot the two men were in the middle of assembling.
Carson nodded. “Hopefully won’t be too much longer now.” He set down his hammer and pushed himself to his feet. “If you’re hungry, there’s food downstairs,” he offered, motioning toward the hallway and stairs.
Not wanting to stand there and watch while they worked, I nodded in agreement and headed downstairs towards where I remembered the kitchen being. On the way, I bypassed several other workers all fixing plug covers, stair gates, and screwing furniture to walls so it couldn’t tip over if little people started climbing on it. It seemed as if everything had been thought of. There was even a storage van parked outside, and people were carrying out Carson’s glass furniture, inappropriate ornaments and knickknacks to be stored. Clearly Carson had been busier on the laptop last night than what I’d thought because he’d managed to get everything under control. The house would be shipshape for a two-year-old in no time.
As I stepped into the kitchen, I came to an abrupt halt as my eyes landed on a petite, grey-haired lady busy taking cinnamon swirls out of the oven. My mouth instantly watered as the smell wafted up. Her eyes widened for a second before a lovely, warm smile graced her ruby-red painted lips.