Chapter Twenty-One
June
Ellis
Finding a two-bedroom flat so close to Bloom and Blossom was the luckiest thing that happened to me. It means that I can walk there when I don’t feel like driving. Besides, I just didn’t have the capacity to stuff myself behind the wheel of a car this morning.
Today I decided to waddle to work with the early morning sun refreshing on my skin. My ankles protest at their use but even with their swelling, I want to keep my blood flowing. I don’t want to be put down by elephantitis when I have so much to do. Plus, by the time the baby comes the weather will be cooling down so I want to make the most of the summer while we have it. The walk is also a welcome distraction from images flashing through my mind. Images of Liam and I. What we did when we were alone.
I don’t have the brain power to think about it right now. About what it might mean. About whether I made a mistake. I’m simply too busy, and Liam doesn’t fit into the Bloom and Blossom schedule today.
As I put the key into the front door of the florist, I try to ignore how puffy my knuckles look. I am retaining so much water, every joint feels ballooned. I am lucky to have a friend like Lyndsey. Even without asking she has started coming into work early to help me in the mornings. Obviously she will be paid for her time, but I know it isn’t about the cash. She hates me straining myself, she is almost as bad as Liam. Well, maybe not quite as bad.
Lyndsey is worried. She won’t say the words but I see it in her eyes. They linger on me a touch too long when I bend over. She wants to help me and I am willing to let her but I have too much to do to let her take over. This store is everything to me. It was my solace after Michael, it gave me a roof and a purpose to keep pushing post-partum. I fought for this place and it is a constant reminder of how different I am now to the kid I was when I left the UK.
When young me was scared and overwhelmed, she had no systems in place for when things went wrong, but I fought against the need to run back home. It would have been easy and Eleanor would have loved me coming back with my tail between my legs but I needed to prove to myself that I could. Even if the shop failed, I needed to try. And it didn’t fail. It bloomed in front of my eyes.
It is only when I get to the back room that I remember I skipped breakfast again. I need to be more careful about that. It’s been this way for a long time. When my pain is high it becomes almost impossible to eat. Even the thought of eating makes me nauseous. Every day this past week I have felt constantly on the verge of throwing up. Acid reflux is always there at the back of my throat; it’s impossible to keep anything down. Even water seems like too much at times.
I pull a granola bar out from my desk drawer but I don’t bother opening it. I slip down into my desk chair still thinking about the chair in Cassie’s office. Deciding I need one, I fire off a text to her to get one for myself. Maybe if I can find a comfortable enough chair I might be able to suffer through some breakfast. I lean back breathing deep through my nose to quell the sickness and dizziness that swamps my brain.
I am pulled from my quiet moment when the bell above the door rings. I push myself up out of the chair to greet my first customer of the day to find Lyndsey here even earlier than yesterday. Through the big front windows I see Aiden Anders in his car waiting for Lyndsey to come inside.
“Well, good morning.” I welcome her and I smile waving at Aiden through the windows. When Lyndsey sees she has been caught she drops her head back, dropping her handbag onto the floor.
“It’s not what it looks like,” she whines.
“That’s what they all say.” I laugh walking around the counter to meet her. She doesn’t look ruffled, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone has dropped her off after a wild night together. Mostly women, but sometimes men. Lyndsey wears her sexuality on her sleeve, and I have always respected that.
“No! Seriously we just bumped into each other at the coffee place that has those delicious cinnamon buns and I wanted to get some for us and he offered me a ride to work, that’s all.” She rambles, picking up her stuff and putting the paper bag on the desk like it’s proof of her story.
“He seems like a good guy?” I shrug, pulling her closer so she is standing right in front of me. I’m willing to entertain this slightly concerning conversation a little longer if it means Lyndsey won’t interject and ask about Liam. I’m not ready to admit to what we did, and I’m equally not ready to lie. She is always asking if anything has happened between us. Usually there is nothing to tell her; I am planning on pretending the same this time.
“I agree, a good guy who gave me a lift to work. Nothing more.” She slices her hand through the air between us wanting to move on from this but I have one last thing I want to say before we start working.
“I don’t believe you.” She tries to interrupt but I talk over her. “But if there is something going on I’ll let you keep it to yourself for now.”
“Subject change. Cinnamon buns!” She cheers, ripping the bag open between us but the sweet smell of cinnamon and icing that would usually make my stomach rumble makes bile rise up in my throat. I try breathing through my mouth so I can’t smell it, but I can taste the sweetness in the air. I cover my mouth with my hand.
“Please put them away,” I mumble behind my hand. Lyndsey’s eyes widen before she covers the warm gooey buns quickly.
“Are you okay?” she asks cocking her brows at me, shocked by my outburst.
“The smell.” I try to sip at some water to get the taste out of my mouth but I still don’t feel steady. “I can’t stomach the smell of basically any food today. Even crumpets sound horrible.”
“That’s your biggest craving!” She sounds scandalised.
“I know, it sucks but with the pain I’m in, food just keeps slipping down my priority list.” I groan, walking into the back room to sit in the office chair, popping my feet on a delivery box, hoping to help with the swelling.
“Aw I’m sorry. Are you okay to be here? You should take a half day,” she tells me, fussing with the delivery sheets on my desk. She is probably right but I don’t want to give in.
“Yeah, maybe. I want to be here, it’s my happy place, but I do really feel shitty.” It sucks to admit.
“I’m here to get everything done, just think about it?” She places a soft hand on my shoulder squeezing lightly.
“I will.” I promise her, but when the phone on my desk rings I still jump right into work. Maybe if I work hard enough I will be able to push everything else out of my mind. Ignore how weak I feel. Ignore the dizziness on the edges of my consciousness and the vomit wanting to surface.
After a few hours of persisting with work, the room starts spinning.
I’ve spent the day ordering stock and filling out delivery schedules for the weekend so everyone gets their orders on time. Lyndsey has been working out front with the customers, she wanted me to be sat down and not running – well, waddling – around. I grip the edge of the desk until everything comes back into focus. I have been dizzy on and off for a while but after this round my pulse starts to rise. I can feel a slight throbbing in my chest, and my fingers start to tingle.
Out front I hear the doorbell ding and then everything comes back into focus. It was a strange sensation, but the dizziness dissipates and even though I can still feel my heartbeat in my head, everything else seems to go back to normal. I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s okay. I will have to keep an eye on that sensation, I remind myself. But for now, it’s gone. It’s okay .
I walk out into the main store, following the sound of Lyndsey’s voice. I’m greeted with the sight of her helping a customer as she flashes me an encouraging smile. The smile I return to her is anything but. If she notices she doesn’t say in front of the customer, which I appreciate.
Check how many stems of roses there are, go back into the office , I think silently. Bending down to pick up a bucket of roses, I shift the one on top to pull another box out from under the shelf. When I rise up with the box in hand, I know something is wrong. The flowers are practically spinning around me.
At the edges of my vision darkness starts to seep over my gaze.
I hear a shout and something hitting the floor.
Blackness completely overtakes my vision.
Everything is blurry.
When my vision comes back into focus, I see Lyndsey’s ginger hair falling around her face. She’s leaning over me, slouched on her knees. My head is rested on her lap like a cushion, but I can’t seem to speak. My throat feels scratchy as I swallow.
I can make out Lyndsey holding a phone to her ear, but I feel like I’m under water. Everything sounds far away. My eyes flutter before closing fully again. The only thing I can feel is Lyndsey’s fingers brushing through my hair.
“Liam,” I whisper when I come back around again.
This time it’s strangers standing above me. Paramedics poke me, shining a torch in my eyes. Lyndsey gives me a cup of water to sip but it feels strange to swallow, like my throat is raw. My heartbeat is still thumping in my head, like my temples are bursting.
“I’m calling him, El, I promise.” Lyndsey’s voice sounds closer this time. She’s above me, using my phone to call him.
“Liam,” I moan again. It’s all I can muster. It’s all I want right now. Liam .
As I become more aware of my surroundings, that’s when fear hits.
There’s a band strapped around my belly. I’m in the back of an ambulance. My baby’s heartbeat is being projected onto a monitor.
Lyndsey passes my stuff into the back of the ambulance, her words a catalogue of promises: promising that she will take care of the store and asking me to promise to give her updates. But I can’t think about that now.
I need to know my baby is okay.