Song Rec:- Go Solo — Tom Rosenthal.
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I slammed my bedroom door loudly as I stepped inside, plopping down on the bed and hugging a cushion tightly while I breathed in and out, trying to hold back my tears. I won't cry. I've wasted too much time doing that.
I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts, my gaze settling on one in particular: "Edwin — Real Estate Agent." Yes, I've reached the point where I save contacts based on their professions or how I met them. A thought of the guy from today crossed my mind—what if I ever had his number?
"You'll save it as 'The guy I kissed in the café,'" my subconscious teased.
I can never recall when she's on my side, but I brushed off her comments and called Edwin.
"Oh, my dear Elspeth, how have you been?" he chirped over the phone in his vibrant French accent.
I had met him at the company brunch shortly before encountering that creep, and we exchanged numbers because I sensed I would need him in the future. And here we are.
I rose to my feet, checking to see if that dog was sniffing around as expected. I peeked into Reese's room to see if the guard I had assigned there was doing his job. "I've been good, Edwin," I muttered under my breath.
"What do you need? Talk to me, my dear; I'm always available."
"Thank you, Ed. I'm actually looking for a building or site for my law firm."
"Ah, starting your own law firm? C'est magnifique! You've come to the right place, my love. Where do you want it? Westminster? Oxfordshire?"
I chuckled. "No, no. Here in Mayfair."
I heard his fingers snap. I could envision him swirling in his chair and gazing at the large portrait hanging in his elegant office.
"Perfect. Come over to the office tomorrow, and let's discuss things further. Congratulations, my dear! So I'll see you at noon tomorrow?"
"Thank you again. Sure, I'll see you at noon."
After we exchanged goodbyes, I ended the call. I was finally going to break free from their hold and do something for myself—a step toward ticking another activity off my bucket list. My lifelong dream.
I envisioned the prospects and details of my firm, contemplating how I'd run it while I showered that night.
The thought lingered until the next morning as I prepared to drop Reese off at school for her first day.
A few maids were here to help me get ready. I usually sent them off after they finished steaming my clothes and curling my hair, but today, I had to look my best.
At first, I wanted to opt for a strapless wide-legged jumpsuit to achieve a "cool mom" look, but I changed my mind—it felt too revealing.
I felt guilty that I wasn't the one who checked out the school and purchased her uniform and other essentials. It made me feel less involved, but at least I had reviewed the school's website, and it looked presentable.
When Reese walked in hand-in-hand with Stella, and I burst into tears, squatting down to hug her while the maids waited. I cried softly, careful not to stain her uniform, which was a navy blue pleated pinafore dress paired with a white short-sleeved shirt underneath and a matching bow tie at the collar. Her look was completed with black knee-high socks and black loafers.
"Relax, she's not getting married now," Stella teased, and everyone giggled, including me.
"You're so pretty, baby," I complimented, pulling away from her.
She grinned and looked down shyly. "Thank you; you're pretty too."
"Aww," our company gushed before everyone praised Reese and wished her good luck. My joy knew no bounds as it boosted her enthusiasm to go.
"Alright, go and meet Grandpa and Grandma. I have to get ready too," I urged, placing her hand in Stella's as I stretched to my full height, signaling the maids to continue prepping me for the day.
This was going to be my peak involvement—taking her to school and looking good too. Finally, I settled on a short-sleeved white mini dress with two front flap pockets. It accentuated my waist, but I suddenly felt it was too short.
I wore a pair of sheer black tights to address that insecurity, accessorizing with jewelry and a black Hermes bag.
I packed extra stationery, hand sanitizers, tissues, wet wipes, a small hairbrush, an extra pack of Burberry's baby touch, and any other essentials I thought she might need. You never know.
For Reese's sake, I put on my best smile as her grandparents hugged her goodbye on her first day. I stood in front, recording every moment to add to my collection of videos I'd share with her when she's older. The word "older" didn't sit well with me, so I waved off the thought and kept the camera rolling.
My parents saw us out. I was grateful Heather kept herself hidden. Thanks to them, Reese seemed more excited to go; she hopped into the vehicle, and I walked behind her, watching as she gave Sir Bacchus a high five after thanking him for the compliment.
My father held me back quickly. "About yesterday, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said something like that to you, Elsie."
I calmly pushed his hand away. "We'll talk later, but not on her big day," I told him, walking past him and joining Reese in the car.
The drive was shorter than expected. I wondered how long it had taken me to notice this establishment. "Springfield," the sign read. I peeked through the windows as our car drove down the driveway, observing various kids hopping out of luxury cars, a few walking with their parents or guardians and some around the age of ten walking by themselves.
I noted the facilities—the playground, the large trees, and the flowers adorning this beautiful oasis.
"It's beautiful, Mummy," Reese commented.
I blinked out of my little world. I wasn't the schoolgirl, and here I was, looking around like one.
"It is, my love. It was made just for you." I playfully booped her nose, and she giggled.
Sir Bacchus stepped out of the car to open the door for us, and Hobbs and Shaw emerged from theirs, which always followed closely behind. I signaled for them to return so they wouldn't scare the kids and ruin the fun.
I spotted a purple bougainvillea a few steps away—a nice backdrop for a photo. I brought out my camera and guided Reese toward the spot.
"I'll go drop her lunch in her class, Ellie," Sir Bacchus offered.
"Thank you, sir." I smiled in relief at his willingness to help.
I resumed taking photos, urging Reese to smile as I flashed the camera like a paparazzi, holding back tears as each picture reminded me that my girl was all grown up.
"You should be in the picture, Mummy," Reese reminded me.
Silly me; I hadn't taken any photos with her.
"Maybe I'll help with that, sweetheart."
I went cold. Goodness gracious. It can't be him.