CHAPTER SIXLydia’s POV
CHAPTER SIX
Lydia’s POV
I move slightly in my bed and feel the fluffiness of the mattress. It’s cozy and soft, not the bed I’m used to. I pause and jump off, trying to recall everything that has happened, and then I do. Leo’s accident and Eric’s plea for me to move in with him.
I get out of bed and rush to the bathroom for a long shower. I am invigorated by the sublimity of the water and the luxury shower head. I’ve never had such a good shower.
As the warm spray of water hits my face, my mind starts to wander, taking me back to a time that would best be forgotten, the time that changed my whole life for good? I don't know if that's exactly what it did, I just know I am forever grateful for the gift of Leo.
Eric's face flashes in my mind’s eye, accompanied by the tender look in his eyes when I caught him glancing at Leo’s sleeping form in the hospital. I also caught him staring at me more than once. His expression went beyond remorse or regret, there was something more there; something that looked a lot like yearning. I let out a frustrated groan as the image takes root in my head. There are so many ways this could go wrong.
I am thinking about how kind and affectionate he was with Leo, how he looked at him like he wanted to be more than a stranger to him. Yesterday I got a lot of glimpses of the Eric I had tumbled, headfirst, in love with. The selfless, endlessly kind and generous, tender and affectionate man that had me breaking all of my own rules and ending up with a son.
The feel of his arms around me as I hugged him, was a presence I could not ignore and I hold back a moan as all the emotions that had superseded that action come swimming back with a vengeance. Oh Lord!
I leave the shower and change into work clothes. I wanted to visit Leo at the hospital briefly before going to the office. Eric will definitely still be in bed. Why am I even worried about him?
I pad to the kitchen. I catch the aroma of pancakes before I see the woman slouching, mixing pancake dough in a bowl.
“Good morning,” I say to her.
She stops stirring the dough. “Good morning, Miss Reid.”
I raise my eyebrows in suspicion. “How do you know my name?”
“Forgive me,” she says, “I'm Pattie, Mr. Greene's housekeeper. Mr. Greene told me you'll be staying here for a while, so I made breakfast for two.”
“Oh,” I say, speechless. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
She directs me to a chair and tucks me in it, placing a plate of pancakes with maple syrup all over it. “Thank you, Pattie, but it's a lot.”
“Well, Mr. Greene demands I give you the best.”
I hope the blush on my cheek isn't visible to Pattie. I get a fork and a knife and dig into my breakfast. One bite of the pancakes excites my taste buds. I take another bite and another. “This is delicious. I haven't had a better pancake in my entire life.”
She smiles. “It's an honor. Coffee?”
“Yes, please. Not black, though. I like cream.”
She pours a cup of coffee into my mug and places it in front of me with a little porcelain creamer. I haven't had a good breakfast like this in a while. Most times, I go to work hungry or I grab cheap cookies on my way to work and eat them silently on the bus.
“So, I'm curious,” Pattie says from the kitchen, “how do you know Mr. Greene?”
I chew the food in my mouth and swallow. “He's my boss. I work as his assistant.”
She nods. “Okay. I was just worried because Mr. Greene doesn't usually let someone stay in his house ‘for a while.’”
“Oh.”
“You must be special, then. Are you both dating? Mr. Greene never dates women.” Pattie tops off my coffee and I take a swig.
“Nothing of that sort. It's a long story.”
“Well, shorten it if you can,” Pattie pries.
“Mr. Greene's driver hit my son while they were going for a meeting, and at the same time, I got evacuated from my house due to a water main break that destroyed the foundation. So he said the only way it can be square is if I move in with him since I don't have anywhere else to stay.” I pour everything out to her the shortest way I can.
“Yes, Mr. Greene told me about your son which made me curious. He likes you. I saw the glint in his eyes when he talked about you.”
I snort. “I don't think so. He was just being generous.”
Pattie bursts into a mirthless laughter. “Generous? Do you think so? Hmm, I think he adores you.”
“Why would you say that?” I whisper-yell.
“ You should hear the way he talks about you…Like a man drowning and you're the only one who can save him.”
I almost snort at her words but I refrain. The man is just being polite because he regrets putting my son in the hospital. Before that, he could barely stand my guts.
She continues though, determined to let it all out. “He is different with you. Softer, kinder, gentler. With everyone else he is a fuming mess that needs to be avoided at all times.”
“Well, I don't think so. Maybe we will just have to see for ourselves.” I drop my empty mug on the table. “Thank you for breakfast, Pattie, but I have to be on my way.”
I strap my purse around my shoulder when I see a woman with blonde hair and a baggy shirt walk past me. Rage rises to my throat. Maybe, a little bit of jealousy, too.
I march down to Eric’s room in a fit. I don’t even knock.
“Eric,” I yell. “We agreed that there were going to be no conjugal visits for you when my son is in this house.” He is putting on a shirt and I try not to be distracted by his physique.
“There were no conjugal visits, Lydia. She is an acquaintance, nothing more.”
I scoff. “Right.”
“You can believe what you want but that doesn't mean that it has to be my own reality as well,” he quips.
“I dare not believe what I saw myself?” I blurt out.
“What exactly is it that you saw, Lydia? Were we under the sheets? Kissing by the kitchen island? Cuddling on the sofa? What exactly were we doing that has gotten you so worked up?”
“My little boy is a child that I want to protect from lurid human behavior as much as possible. You and your ‘acquaintance’ can meet in other places, I'm sure you can afford it.”
“What's the point of a confrontation if you won't listen to anything that I say?”
“Look, Eric…”
“No. You look, Lydia. I am not engaging in any sexual practices with anyone while I share a roof with you and your son, and that's not going to change anytime soon.”
“The lady you saw is Petra, my masseuse. I can make sure to not pass any more wrong messages, but you have to play your own part and let him know that it isn't what it appears to be. Okay?”
“Better.” I stomp out of his room. My cheeks were flushed, partially because I was ashamed that I was in the wrong, and partially because seeing him without his shirt on brought on a wave of longing, of wanting to grab him and pull him closer.
“I’m glad I had the willpower to stomp out of his room with my head held high”…I told myself.
*******
I take the bus to the hospital and spend an hour with Leo. He is almost his cheery self and the doctor proclaimed that he can probably be discharged later today. They want to monitor his concussion just a bit longer and do some tests.
I promised Leo I’d return later to pick him up when the doctor discharges him.. The nagging question of why he was riding a bike - unsupervised, on his own, and during school hours - I left for another day. Maybe he would offer me an explanation without prompting.
Luckily, I don’t get to see Eric again because I don’t know what to say to him except avoid him. Another thing of luck is that his house is somewhat close to the office, so I don’t spend a long time on a bus.
I go through Eric’s planner to check what his meetings are today and I keep a scheduled calendar on his desk. I prepare him a cup of coffee and store it in a thermos flask, and I do all this just to avoid him all throughout the day.
I have nothing else to do: Eric Greene’s desk is organized, his files are kept in sequential order, and his coffee is on his desk. I put on some music, connect it to my headphones, and I drown myself in its world.
Eric knows I will leave early to get Leo from the hospital, so I sneak out of work. He doesn’t know I’ve gone
Leo is sitting on his bed with a sling across his shoulder when I get to the hospital. There is a stitch on his forehead, but there are no other bruises. He smiles and waves at me, and an ocean of joy washes my soul.
“Mummy, are we going home?” he asks innocently.
I run my hand through his dark, curly hair. “Yes, we are. There are new changes, though. We have a new home.”
I have no clue how anesthetics work, but my little kid jumps like he didn’t suffer an accident some days back. He has never liked our old home.
I take his free hand and steady him, squatting to his hearing. “Mummy has a nice boss, and he gave us a place to live. A thank you to him won’t hurt, would it?”
He shakes his head and I smile warmly at him. He isn’t the only one happy about this new home.