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Chapter 4 Bella - Martin 4

  • Bella
  • I woke up when the sun was still a red blotch on the sky of his opulent view of the city. Martin lay next to me in bed, looking like a fairy - tale prince in this palace in the sky. But the pain in my muscles and the whooshing along my nerve fibers every time I looked at him told me it wasn't a dream.
  • "Oh my God, what have I done?" " I murmured to myself, then grimaced as Martin muttered and rolled onto his belly. His back was stunning as well. I rolled out of bed, hands and knees on the deep carpet of the bedroom floor, resisting the urge to touch him. I crept around a little, careful not to make too much sound, picking up my underwear. What happened to my dress? Oh, I just recalled. The living room. Didn't he live by himself? Wouldn't there be someone like a housemate catching me naked on the ground while I am looking for my dress? Did billionaires with Rousseaus on their walls even have housemates? I wouldn't have one if I was a billionaire. I seized the chance and crept out of the bedroom. Fortunately, billionaires did not have squeaky doors.
  • My dress was still in a heap on the floor of the breathtaking and enormous living room, and I took a few minutes to get dressed before slipping into the bathroom. I washed the remnants of last night's makeup off my face and flung on a soft old sweatshirt from the back of the bathroom door over my dress. I didn't care if I looked like I was on the walk of shame on a Sunday morning, but...I actually did. A pullover over a white dress and heels was less obvious "I got some" than a stunning gown. I took a hair tie from my purse, double-checking that my gun was still in there and the safe operation was turned on, and started tying my hair up in a messy knot. I hoped I wouldn't need a key to get the elevator out of here. Did billionaires require keys to leave their penthouse suites?
  • They didn't do any sound. The elevator button's soft sound went off without using a key, and I froze, wishing the sound won't wake Martin. Or perhaps I was starting to hope for it. In any case, the elevator arrived and I was taking a walk out onto the extremely bright streets, and Martin didn't wake up to prevent me, tempt me back to bed, ask for my number, or kiss me farewell.
  • Wasn't it better that way? I decided to stand on the pavement for much longer than I'd like to admit, hoping he'd woken up before I left, before my location Anthonytered in my mind. The City Side of Manila. Manila Bay glistened through the trees. My grandma lived just a few blocks away. It's only a ten-minute walk. On my way home, I could stop for baked goods and coffee, as well as pick up Yzee. And there was no way I was going to appear at Abuela's house after departing my one-nighter's house to pick up my nine-year-old daughter. Instead, I walked, and hailed a cab, and settled into the passenger side, and started heading home.
  • Hours later, after a warm shower and coffee, I was getting off the bus and started knocking on Abuela's door, baked goods in hand, wearing my oldest and coziest jeans, a t-shirt, and a pair of converse high cut sneakers.
  • “Morning! " I said in a tone like I was singing, pretending all was normal, despite the fact that my heart was still trying to beat its way out of my chest. I really can not take my mind off of him. I'd said it was just a one night, that it was all we had, but it felt like last night had changed something vital about me, regarding who I was, what I wanted, and also where I could go from here. And that was simply too much for me to bear right now.
  • "I brought muffins!" I exclaimed. "I used my copy of the key and opened the door. I've got corn muffins for you, Abuela. Yzee prefers chocolate chip. You're very much welcome."
  • Abuela's place was a run-down walk-up. Tiny and dark, and always smelling vaguely of rice and beans. This is a far cry from Martin's condo's expansive views and sophisticated interiors. My mind was filled with a flash of Martin as he wrapped his arms around me, and I felt my skin heat up.
  • That would not be acceptable. I took a deep breath and managed to pick up one of the mugs from the holder. "I decided to bring you a cafe latte, Abuela. Are you still sleeping, both of you? What actually occurred here last night that caused you to stay up so late? ”
  • My grandma shuffled out of the back hallway, short and round and huggable, still in her night gown. "Bella, be quiet. Yzee is still sound asleep. She's ill."
  • I started paying more attention right away.
  • I started paying more attention right away.
  • “Sick? Why didn't you give me a call? ”
  • "Bellita, you were at work. I scheduled an appointment for her to see the physician at the new clinic down the street. It's a good thing you're here because you can take her. I stayed awake all night with her."
  • “Abuela! ”
  • "Mija, she's fine. Bring her to the doctor. He's going to give you something. Don't be concerned. You're always concerned."
  • "I'm a mom." "I'm supposed to be concerned."
  • "No, mija, you aren't." Relax. It's only a minor detail. She'll get antibiotics and poof, and she'll be fine."
  • "Mooom," a weak call came from the other room. My child was ill. I was overcome with guilt. Rather than caring for my child, I'd been out getting laid. Never mind that I'd been working the night before, and Yzee had been with Abuela despite of what I did after work. I suppressed the rational thought and promised myself I'd never do that again. Never ever, ever. I can just wait until my girl was all gotten older before meeting someone. What was just another decade alone? I sucked up off the heaviness.
  • "Don't worry, honey, I'll be there."
  • Abuela sighed and rolled her eyes. "Are you feeling guilty on top of being worried, Bella?" You do not have to be in command at all times. Relax. Doctor Lawson's appointment is in an hour. All we have to do is to dress her and possibly make some tea. She has a fever and a sore throat."
  • I let out a small sob as I realized I was being unreasonable and overly harsh on myself. But I really can not help myself. I wanted to cry. As I sat by Yzee's bedside, brushing sweat-stained curls back, it did occur to me that I wasn't just upset about Yzee feeling ill; she'd been sick before, she was a healthy kid, this wasn't a problem, Abuela was correct.
  • No. I was irritated because of Martin. I wished to see him once more. And I wouldn't see him again. My eyes pricked up with tears..
  • Yzee was irritable. She didn't want to change out of her jammies, but when I told her she could carry her stuffed sloth, she reluctantly stuffed herself into leggings and a t-shirt. I didn't torture her by brushing the mess out of her curly hair; instead, I drew it back into a frizzy ponytail. She cried after she saw the chocolate chip muffin, her favorite and something I didn't normally let her eat for breakfast because chocolate isn't a breakfast food, and her throat was too sore to choke down the muffins. Therefore, on our short walk to the clinic, I decided to buy her a smoothie.
  • I haven't ever noticed this clinic previously, but the girl at the front desk informed me that it had just established as I handed her our required documentation. Something to do with a charity and good works or something like that. I stopped paying attention to the receptionist because Yzee was seated in the waiting room, looking unhappy. I sat beside Yzee, allowing her to cuddle up in my lap. When we were called, she was splashing her smoothie on my jeans and complaining about her throat hurting.
  • “Yzabella De Guzman?”
  • I went completely still. That voice was familiar to me. That's Martin's voice . Oh, no! I really can not look up.
  • “Me!" Yzee yelped and started rolling out of my lap, clutching my hand and dragging me behind her. "Come on, Mom."
  • I rose to my feet, my head bowed. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't do it. I was terrified of looking him in the eyes.
  • "My name is Yzee," my outgoing daughter introduced herself; even when she was sick, she enjoyed meeting new people. "I have a sore throat."
  • Martin knelt down to Yzee's level. "My name is Dr. Lawson. Okay, let's take you and your mother into my office and check you out. ”
  • She gave a nod.
  • "Are you ready, Mom?" " he inquired, turning to face me, where I was staring down at him.
  • Our gaze was drawn.
  • His eyes were green. Green as in emerald. I thought they were greener like jade last night, but they were dusty green and sweet. As sweet as summer. I can't hardly breath.
  • He managed to clear his throat and decided to stand up as cool as a cucumber, taking Yzee's hand in his and guiding her back to his office while I closely followed behind, speechless. My one-night billionaire prince is actually a doctor. A pediatrician, to be precise. And he was escorting my daughter down the corridor.
  • The receptionist coughed subtly just before the door to the waiting room shut. "He is single."
  • "Pardon me? " I inquired because I was at a loss for words.
  • "Doctor Lawson,"she said. "I noticed he rendered you speechless for a moment there," she smiled, a sparkle in her black eyes. "He's adorable and single. Your paperwork indicates that you are a single mother."
  • Notwithstanding the her sore throat, I noticed Yzee talking excitedly with Martin down the hall. "Are you attempting to set me up with a doctor?" I hissed, hoping Martin wouldn't hear. Or Yzee, for that subject; she already seemed to smitten with Martin. Daughters are similar to their mothers. Oh, no!
  • The receptionist shrugged, unconcerned. "I have strong feelings about things. I have a pleasant vibe about you. He's a wonderful person. I'd take him if I liked guys."
  • "This can't be right."
  • “What? A harried receptionist? I don't believe there are any ethical considerations in matchmaking clerical assistance. However, you're his type."
  • I took a step forward. “I am? " My heart really can not take it any longer.
  • She nodded and smiled.
  • "Mo-om," Yzee started calling from the other end of the hall. I was so agitated that I didn't even said goodbye to the receptionist. I needed to see my daughter. As well as the pediatrician. While attempting not to imagine said pediatrician shirtless. Oh, no! This is a disaster.
  • He prevented looking at me for the duration of the examination, trying to address all of his queries to Yzee if he could, but the few that I had to answer, he ended up asking through her anyway. After the third time, I did stop feeling ashamed about what we'd done the night before and began to be irritated that he was trying to pretend it wasn't me sitting in his office with my sick daughter. Perhaps the receptionist was mistaken and I wasn't his type. Maybe Arabella in the white dress and red lipstick was his type and because of that, I believe now that he was the conniving billionaire he claimed not to be.
  • He ended his examination and said to Yzee, "strep throat." He then gave her the medication. "Give that to your mom," Yzee said as he nodded and ran over to where I was standing. After giving me the slip of paper, she put her arm around my waist.
  • I was enraged at this point. I glared at him, but he didn't even notice because he wouldn't look any higher than the top of Yzee's head. And he looked fantastic. He was dressed neatly in black jeans and a long-sleeved button-down in a green shade that drew attention to his eyes. Spider-Man was printed on his tie. Spider-Man.
  • "May I speak with you privately?" " I inquired sweetly, then added a firm, "Doctor Lawson," which was cut off between my teeth.
  • "Of course, Ms. De Guzman," he said flatly, and he finally began to look at me, green eyes flat. Held back. "Yzee," he said, returning his focus to my daughter, his tone light and friendly once more. "Why don't you go to my receptionist, Mia, and ask for a lollipop?" Tell her I told her you could sort through the stickers and choose your personal favourite as a reward for being such a good patient."
  • Yzee smiled politely and dashed away. Stickers were her downfall. She didn't even ask me first.