One Last Call

510 16 23
                                    

A little something I wrote last year, unrelated to the other story. Set in 2017.

- - - - - - - - - -

The sun warmed my face and chest as I lounged near the pool, half-listening to the sound of Terri and Lauren gossiping about this and that. I had zero interest in joining in their girly conversation. Vacation was for relaxing, spending time away from the paparazzi and my responsibilities. Responsibilities like America's Got Talent, which was in two weeks, or even Eric. I loved the boy to bits, but he was three years old and always causing trouble of some sort.

It was pretty hot. Was it too hot? Oh bloody hell, I was going to have to get up. A conundrum. Either lay here comfortably and burn, or drag my tired arse indoors for some much-need AC. I decided on the latter. Maybe, perhaps, I could reply to some emails. I told myself it still counted as vacation as long as I was here.

"Lauren? Terri? I'm heading inside, it's getting a bit hot," I called to the girls. With a groan, I lifted myself out of the chair and rolled my shoulders.

Terri gave a little wave and nod, and Lauren turned her head to blow me a kiss.

It really was nice to be surrounded by beautiful ladies.

——————

The moment I stepped foot inside, cool air surrounded me and I sighed. There was a thing as getting too much sun. Sometimes you just needed to go inside.

I scanned the room for my computer, then saw my phone lying on the counter. It would work for now. I grabbed it and settled myself onto a plush couch, sighing contentedly.

One missed call. Who would be calling now? Everyone knew I was on vacation. Annoyed, I opened the Phone app to see who it was and -

Poodle. A missed call from my poodle.

Paula called me?

One hour ago?

I blinked, completely taken aback.

She hadn't called for years. I'd thought me and her were completely over - as friends, and as lovers. A pang struck my heart as I remembered our last conversation back in 2014, barely three days after Eric's birth.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Cowell," I grunted, the phone call awakening me from my slumber.

"Simon? Did I wake you up? I'm sorry."

It was Paula. I smiled groggily.

"Pawler. Yes, you did wake me up, it's seven thirty in the morning. No need to apologize though, sweetheart. How are you?"

"Siiimon," she said, dragging out my name. "You and I both know what this call is about. The baby. Eric. How is he?"

I couldn't tell what the emotion in her voice was through the phone, although it sounded a bit thick. Had she been crying? Of course not. She'd probably just woken up from a short nap, saw on the news that my baby had been delivered, and decided to call.

My baby. I lifted my head, seeing Eric safely sleeping in his crib and Lauren dozing on the bed. The delivery had been smooth, and relatively fast. I was so grateful. So grateful that the woman and baby I loved were okay.

The woman I loved?

Did I love Lauren?

A bit disturbed when the answer didn't come to me right away, I stopped thinking about it.

One Last Call - a Saula 1/1Where stories live. Discover now