CHAPTER 23
I watched Dante out the corner of my eyes while sniffing loudly.
The sniffing was my non-verbal way of communicating displeasure.
The estate agent, Irene was her name, sent me a narrowed gaze as she extolled the benefits of hard wood flooring and the under-floor heating running throughout the open plan living space.
“Is that a water mark over there?” I pointed to the far-side of the room, hoping the play of weak sunlight against the wall fooled Dante.
“Smells damp in here.”
Dante strode towards the wall, sending Irene a disappointed glance on his way.
She tucked her hands behind her back and beamed at my best friend.
“There’s no evidence of damp throughout the property and the owners have recently converted the loft. I’ll show you once we get upstairs.”
I huffed under my breath and walked over to the front windows, scowling hard and feeling dread bubbling inside my stomach.
This was the second property we’d seen today.
“Hey, there are cracks over here.”
Dante spun away from the wall he’d just been inspecting and hurried over to my side.
Irene was close on his heels.
“Subsidence, maybe?” I drawled and hid my pleased smile as Dante stretched up on his toes to observe where window met wall and the barely noticeable crack in-between.
He grunted then sent Irene another look.
“There’s no subsidence,” she reassured him, chasing that commission no doubt.
“The survey reports confirm the property is sound and-”
“Oh dear!” I interrupted her assurances with false alarm as I gestured out the gleaming windows.
“Seems like a busy street.” Two cars drove by sedately, a nice safe distance between them.
“Wonder if you’ll be able to get resident parking. We had to park all the way at the bottom of the street.” I gave him a little shake of head.
“And it really smells damp in here.”
“Madi,” Dante murmured after Irene’s exasperated snort which she tried to over with a polite cough.
“What?” I groused, tightening the grip on my bag and sauntering over to the front door impatiently.
“I don’t like it. These terraces look grotty. They’re not as nice as mine.” The frontage was actually quite nice, my words were nothing more than a concerted attempt to put Dante off another property.
“And it’s going to add time on your journey to work.”
“Would you like to see upstairs?” It appeared Irene had had enough of me.
The first property had been poo-pooed by me, so vicious was the negativity I spouted that Dante had walked out before she finished giving us the tour just to shut me up.
“Yes,” Dante agreed and my face fell.
“If you don’t mind showing me.” He turned to me.
“Wait here, we won’t be long.”
“Don’t you want me to come?” I asked in surprise.
“I’m supposed to be helping you decide.”
“Uh,” Dante scratched his chin.
“It’s ok. I’ll be quick.”
He spun on his heels and headed towards Irene, who shot me a triumphant smile.
If she got him upstairs on his own, she might convince him to make an offer.
No way was I letting that happen.
“It’s over-priced,” I added loudly to Dante’s back.
“And needs a lot of work in the kitchen.” I hurried after their retreating backs.
“The next street over looks dodgy!”
They ascended the stairs, leaving me alone with my rumblings.
I glared at the empty space.
Humph.
The sellers could have at least put some furniture around.
Didn’t they know anything about enticing buyers?
Dante was ready to get on the property ladder…
finally.
London prices had always been above the national average, even with the property implosion a few years ago; buying anywhere in and around London would set the average Joe back a pretty penny.
Luckily, Dante had great credit and a mega-healthy deposit, financially he was all set so he was now steaming ahead with becoming a first time buyer at this stage in his life.
I didn’t want him to move out.
Yes, it indicated a selfish streak, but if Dante left me - well, I just didn’t want anyone else to leave me.
A short while later they returned, both smiling amidst their relaxed conversation about planning permission for an extension out back.
Dante gave me a thumbs up and my non-verbal response was a middle finger.
Hey, at least it was in an upright position.
I opened my mouth to once again state my unhappiness and the words didn’t sound right.
Dante looked at me in confusion.
I was confused too.
Did I just jumble my words incoherently?
Suddenly the strangest feeling came over me.
My face became heated, my whole body felt warm and my vision zoned in on Dante’s nose.
There was a tightness inside my ears and an intense wave of dizziness overwhelmed me.
Then there was nothing.
Shit…
“Madi? Come on! Wake up.” Dante’s frantic plea rang in my ears.
“I’m up,” I mumbled, needing to know why I was on the floor and why my ass hurt terribly.
Dante pressed his hand firmly over my shoulder as I struggled to right myself, keeping me down on the floor.
“Don’t sit up. You tried before and passed out again.”
What?
What the hell?
Again?
I had no memory of that.
“You’re going to be ok,” he assured me, stroking my clammy face with his other hand.
“Fucking hell.”
“What happened? I passed out?”
“Yeah,” Dante said, his voice heavy with worry.
“Twice.”
“Oh.” was all I could muster while my brain cells tried to reorganize themselves.
“Are you sure?”
Dante gave me a crazed look.
“You passed out.”
“Probably because we missed breakfast.” Came from me as I pushed myself into a sitting position.
Dante tried to stop me again.
I grimaced, my ass hurt.
“Damn. Couldn’t you have caught me?”
“Madi,” Dante called in alarm.
I must have moved too fast because the room spun.
Only Dante’s arms quickly encircling my upper body kept me vertical.
“Whoa,” I attempted to stay as still as possible.
Well then, next time I wouldn’t skip breakfast.
“I’m fine. Dante, stop squeezing me. I’m fine now.”
He helped me up, all under the fearful eye of the estate agent.
“Are you ok?” Irene asked.
Her index finger hovered over the screen of her smart phone.
“I can call an ambulance-”
“No.” I shot down that idea immediately and scowled at her.
She had my bag in her possession.
Dante wrapped an arm around my waist, lending his strong frame in support.
“We’re going to A
“Well, your blood pressure is low at the moment,” The lady doctor efficiently undid the strap from around my arm.
“We missed breakfast.” I looked at Dante, his attention was on the doc.
She smiled with a nod.
“That could be a factor, you might be anaemic.”
I nodded too, but quickly defended myself.
“My diet is good though. Really healthy, no junk food.”
Dante twisted his head in my direction, the squint around his eyes was a tell-tale indication my words weren’t wholly truthful.
“She’s never fainted before.” he blabbed.
“We’re dancers, ballerinas.” I blinked prettily at the doc.
“Well, technically I’m a ballerina and he’s a ballerino if you’re talking old Italian style. If we French it up then he’s a danseur and I’m a danseuse. Gendered titles are tricky. Ah, we have a production opening in two days.”
She glanced at Dante and tried to hide her surprise behind a professional smile then turned back to me.
“That sounds interesting,”
I nodded again.
These NHS doctors were really working on their doctor-patient interaction, even though this was the busy A
I wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my coat then spat once more.
The taste of bile across my tongue made me want to puke again.
This wasn’t morning sickness, I was just physically sick with shock.
Dante patted my back and murmured soothing words under his breath.
The SUV was still running, the passenger door still open from when I had practically launched myself out the vehicle after begging Dante to make an impromptu stop.
The people walking by on the pavement gave us a mix of fleeting looks.
Disgust featured prominently but a few had looked genuinely concerned.
They majority probably thought I was suffering the aftereffects of binging on alcohol.
It had only just gone past mid-day.
“Feel better?” Dante asked as he gently herded me back into the vehicle.
I slumped against the upholstery without responding and Dante sighed before shutting the door.
Since leaving A&E he had bombarded me with questions, all of which had been ignored as the world as I knew it came to an end.
Once he climbed back in behind the wheel he reached over to squeeze my knee before pulling away from the curb.
“Talk to me, sweet cheeks.”
“Kryptonite,” I muttered.
“What?” Dante glanced at me from the corner of his eyes.
“Hey, buckle up.”
“His stubble,” I explained, slowly buckling up.
“That’s my kryptonite. I would’ve been fine if he didn’t have the stubble. This wouldn’t have happened.”
“You’re not making sense,” Dante warned.
“Ruined,” I was starting to get angry.
My abject despair was making way for rage.
Of course, I was to blame for the current predicament I found myself in.
A woman’s reproductive well-being should be her own responsibility, I knew this, I should have known better.
I wasn’t some uninformed na?ve teenager.
I was a grown woman, an adult female living in the liberal Western world who had access to birth control.
I should have damned well known better.
But I didn’t want to shoulder the blame just yet, so I focused it on the fucker who helped get me here.
“He’s ruined me.” I slammed my hand over the dashboard.
“Fucking ruined me!”
“Madi, calm down,” Dante jerked in alarm.
“Who? Who’s ruined you?”
“Matthew Bradley.” I spat out.
“That fucking fuck. Oh, he’s fucked things right up. Fucking piece of shit bastard. He’s ruined me and I hate him. I fucking hate him.”
“Matt? He’s the father?” Dante asked, shocked if his expression was anything to go off.
“Of course he is, you ass.” I huffed.
“Who the hell else would it be? You fucking asshole. Are you implying I’m a slut? That I wouldn’t know who the father is?”
Dante inhaled sharply.
“Hey now, come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just – well, you’re separated.”
“He had stubble, ” I fumed.
“It does things to you, makes you act silly. His stubble is evil and it jujued me. Rat bastard fucker.”
“Hey,” Dante raised his voice over my justified rant.
“Stop it. Cussing like that. What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?” I dragged out sarcastically with eyes narrowing dangerously.
“Oh didn’t you hear? I’m bloody pregnant for the most inconsiderate, heartless, selfish jerk in the world who stopped loving me over something I didn’t do.”
Dante cleared his throat, shooting me anxious glances.
“Um, and are you staying that way, Madi? You know I’m in your corner, but,” He stared out the windscreen.
“I mean fuck, I’m pro-choice.”
“Me too.” I grumbled.
“But,” Dante cleared his throat again.
“But what?” I challenged him, hands clenching in anger, and fear.
“I’ll always support you,” Dante hedged, his own hands tightened over the steering wheel.
“But,”
I grunted at his hesitation and he turned his head in my direction, only for a moment before he returned his eyes to the road.
My lips quivered.
There had been a glassy shine to his eyes, a glassy liquid shine that threatened to spill past his thick lashes.
Dante’s jaw tightened and I saw his throat bob up and down a few times.
“They’re yours,” he whispered.
“And that makes it different, it’s different. I don’t know why, it just is. Fuck. Not just one, but two, Madi. Sweet Jesus. I – you can’t-” He sniffed and bent his head into his shoulder.
A quick swipe that confirmed the liquid shine had evolved into tears.
I couldn’t remember the last time I saw him cry.
“Whatever you decide,” he said with an unexpected gruffness that made my head and heart ache.
“I’ve got your back. I’m going to be right here.” He lowered his head to his shoulder again.
“Whatever you-”
When his voice cracked, it broke the dam forged around the despair I’d felt since leaving A&E.
Unable to stop the onset of my tears, I faced the window, quietly weeping in tune to Dante’s own ragged breathing.
I was pro-choice, but deep down I knew I couldn’t make that decision.
The right decision would keep me, keep us on the course to success.
Our dance company was making a name for itself.
We were known.
The right decision would see me continue to hone my craft, to excel on stage, to dance without fear of losing my edge, without fear of being left behind, without being the reason our shared dreams crashed off-track.
The right decision…
and I heard my aunt’s voice, as clear as if she was sat next to me: as you make your bed so you must lie in it.
My bed had been made.
Could I now bear lying in it?
Damned stubble was my kryptonite.
“You need to tell him, Madi,” Dante whispered.
“You have to tell him. You can’t not tell him. It’s not fair if you don’t.”
Sniffling, I wiped the corners of my eyes.
“Well, life isn’t fair, is it? Fuck it. Fuck fair. Fuck him .”