14. Echoes of the Past
Chapter fourteen
Echoes of the Past
E llie
I pace my living room, clutching the phone in one hand as Jenna’s voice buzzes in my ear.
“Calm down, Ellie. There’s gotta be a logical explanation for all of this,” Jenna insists, her tone soothing, but I can’t calm down. I can barely breathe.
“I don’t know, Jenna! It’s all over the news—he was with Vanessa, his ex!” I choke, hugging myself tighter. “I don’t know where I even stand with him. And now, with everything else...”
I let the rest hang. Jenna’s the only one who knows about the pregnancy test I took this morning, the positive results that have had my mind spinning in ten different directions.
“Listen, Ellie. Talk to him. You owe it to yourself and to him. You’re not going to figure it out like this.”
There’s a knock on my door, and my heart lurches. I know it’s him.
“Oh God, he’s here,” I whisper, feeling my pulse quicken.
Jenna’s voice softens. “You’ve got this. Just… listen, okay?”
I hang up, take a shaky breath, and open the door. Alexander stands there, looking exhausted, disheveled, as if he’s been through hell. His hair is messy, his tie loosened, and he looks at me with worry.
“Why have you been ignoring my calls?” he asks, his voice low, thick with concern. Then his eyes move past me to the TV, where the news blares about him and Vanessa. A flicker of realization crosses his face. “I can explain.”
I cross my arms, nodding. “Okay.”
He steps in, takes a deep breath, and meets my eyes. “Vanessa came over last night. She was... out of control. She’d taken something, and I didn’t know what else to do. She collapsed this morning in my bathroom after taking my painkillers from an old injury. I had to get her to the hospital. She’s lucky she’s alive.”
The words sink in slowly, every detail hitting me. Drugs. A hospital. I suddenly feel nauseated and run to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. The world spins around me as I collapse to my knees, my stomach churning.
A moment later, Alexander’s hand is on my back, his voice thick with worry. “Ellie, what’s wrong? Baby, please talk to me.”
I rinse my mouth and, without looking up, I say it. “I’m pregnant.”
There’s silence as I slowly stand, his hands gentle on my shoulders as he turns me to face him. His eyes are wide, searching my face, then softening as he takes in the news.
“Pregnant?” he whispers, and I nod, tears pricking my eyes.
“It’s too soon, Alexander. We’re still figuring things out, and… and I don’t even know what this means for us.”
He pulls me into a tight embrace, one hand stroking my back. “This is the best news you could’ve given me, Ellie.” He leans back, his eyes earnest. “I’m here, with you. You’re who matters.”
My heart stutters. “Are you sure?”
He helps me up, his arms firm around me. “Absolutely.” He kisses me softly, and the warmth in his eyes is unmistakable. He looks at me like I’m the only thing in his world right now.
“What about Vanessa? Everything’s so complicated.”
His hand slides to my belly, making me laugh softly. He grins. “None of that matters right now. Only you.”
In that moment, I feel my doubts melting away. He’s here, with me, and even with the fear and uncertainty, a glimmer of joy starts to take root.
*
I lie in bed, watching Alexander pull his shirt over his shoulders, each movement deliberate, smooth. It’s like he doesn’t even know the effect he has on me, the way he fills the space with his presence alone. My heart swells, a warmth spreading as I realize— I love him.
I love him. The thought is sudden, and yet it’s been building for days, maybe longer, until I couldn’t ignore it if I tried.
He buttons his shirt, giving me a small grin when he catches me staring. “What?” he says, playful but a little curious.
I shrug, pushing myself up in bed and wrapping the sheet around me. “Just… admiring you. So, French Riviera, huh?”
He crosses the room, sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning down to kiss me. His lips brush mine, soft, warm, lingering.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, his fingers trailing down, stroking my bare skin, tracing my collarbone, lower until his thumb flicks my nipple. I shiver, caught between wanting him to stay and knowing he has to go.
He smirks as I bite my lip. “We’re making some changes to the property there. I want it to be more than just another resort. And now… I can finally see it coming together.”
I watch his eyes, glowing with excitement. “I’m proud of you, Alexander.”
His smile softens. “Thank you, baby. I needed to hear that.”
He kisses me again, slower this time, but then sighs, shaking his head. “I really do have to go.”
I exhale, nodding as I sit back and stretch. “I’m going to rest up a bit, then maybe take it easy for the day.” I catch his hand, squeezing it. “Call me when you’re free?”
He nods. “I will. And as soon as Vanessa’s okay, we’ll handle the press.”
“I understand.” I squeeze his hand again, trying to ease his worry.
Alexander straightens, but his eyes flick back to me as he grabs his jacket. “I’ll be thinking of you.” He winks, and with a final look, he leaves, the door clicking shut softly behind him.
As I sit there, silence settling around me, it starts to feel real—the baby, him, us. The mix of excitement and wonder bubbles up, and I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. I’m going to have a baby. Our baby.
I shower, slipping into my softest pajamas afterward, feeling warm and calm, like the hot water’s washed away every worry. I order a pizza and settle on the couch, my hand instinctively moving to my stomach as I imagine the future—what it’ll be like to raise a child with Alexander.
With a deep breath, I let myself sink into this new reality, the start of everything changing.
Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock at the door. I grab my wallet, expecting it to be the pizza, but as I open the door, confusion hits me.
It’s not the delivery guy—it’s a woman. Middle-aged, with short brown hair that frames her face in sharp lines, hints of silver at her temples. She’s dressed in a tailored navy blazer over a pale blue blouse, her posture stiff, expression unreadable.
“Oh, um, hey?” I say, feeling immediately awkward. She just looks at me, taking me in with a strange intensity.
I try again. “I think you might have the wrong house?”
She doesn’t answer right away, and my nerves spike. Who is this woman? And why is she just… staring at me? The thought that she could be a journalist flashes through my mind, and my stomach drops. The last thing I need right now is some reporter sniffing around.
She finally speaks, her voice soft but steady. “You’re so grown now.”
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“You’re Ellie Sanders?”
I freeze. “Yes. That’s me. And you are…?”
The woman pauses, her gaze unwavering. “I’m… Deborah Whitaker.”
The name doesn’t ring a bell, but something about her presence has me on edge. I fold my arms, trying to keep my voice steady. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
She hesitates, and there’s a visible tremor in her voice when she finally speaks. “I’m your mother.”
I stare at her, my mind reeling. “No,” I say, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. “You’re mistaken. I think you have the wrong person.”
“No, I don’t.”
“I’m sorry Deborah but you have to be mistaken. My mother’s name was Carolyn. She died when I was thirteen.”
The woman—Deborah—winces, like I’ve struck her. Her voice breaks as she says, “I know. That’s… what I was told, too. That she… died.”
The world feels like it tilts sideways, and I grip the doorframe to steady myself, trying to process her words. “Wait—what?” I manage, the confusion twisting into something sharper, darker. “Told by who? Who are you? How do you know my mother?”
Deborah’s face softens with something I can’t read—grief, maybe. Pain. “Please,” she says quietly, “can I come in? I… I can explain.”
Every instinct in me is screaming, don’t let her in, but I find myself stepping aside, gesturing for her to enter. She walks in slowly, her gaze flicking around my small living room, taking it all in, as if this is the first real glimpse she’s ever had into my life.
I close the door behind her, feeling like I’m walking into some kind of nightmare.
What the hell is going on?
As I stand there, my mind races with questions I never thought I’d have to face. This woman—my mother—was supposed to be gone forever, and yet here she is, breathing and standing in my living room. The weight of her words settles heavy on my chest, twisting my emotions into a knot. I feel like I’m on the edge of a cliff, looking down into an unknown darkness, and all I can do is hope for a light to guide me through this chaos. What does this mean for me? For the life I thought I knew? My heart pounds as I take a shaky breath, ready to confront the ghosts of my past.