Action (DNF)

Chapter 78: 9am

Clay POV.

The entire night I was feeling extremely cautious about what was going to happen with Monica and her son Noah, trying to run scenarios through my head and how I would react to each of them in a way which would not make Monica mad, and would also not make the child I’d be with start crying.

A little sliver of hope was there that maybe Noah, I’m pretty sure that was his name, was actually my child. After all of the heartbreak that I had when realising that Monica was carrying somebody else's child, I would find out that she hadn’t, and that he was actually mine and I could be a father.

I’d always wanted a family, but I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do if I found out that Noah was my son. Should I adopt him? Should I keep away from Monica and pay child support? Would George want to be a stepfather?

Okay, now I am getting ahead of myself. There was a chance that Noah wasn’t my son as well. He could be the result of one of Monica’s who-knows-how-many hookups. If that happens it would be a lot easier, but I still can’t help but feel bad for the kid, after all, it wasn’t his fault for what happened.

George was still sleeping, making me worry that maybe he had actually died after I joked about it last night, but thankfully he was still breathing. Time continued to pass, with me waiting for the brunette to wake up and also until it was the right time for me to leave. It made me want to call the whole thing off, instead staying home to make sure George was alright.

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching the TV on a low volume so I could pass the time while also keeping an eye on the sleeping Brit, but eventually the time came when I knew I had to leave. After double checking the address I had been sent I went to the small table beside the door to the hotel room where the phone was kept, which had a notepad and pen alongside it.

After thinking for a minute I came up with what I should write, just a letter explaining to George that I was going out and that I wouldn’t be back until around 7:30. I didn’t want to explain too much about going out with Monica since I didn’t want him to freak out or worry.

When I was finished I read it over two or three times so that I made sure that it made sense before adding something else onto the end which I thought would improve it. Finally I signed my name with a heart before setting it on the bedside table by the water and crackers and food. I then pressed a kiss onto his forehead before leaving the room.

Dear George.

Sorry I won’t be here when you wake up. I hope that you will be alright when you wake up and that you’ve had the crackers, water, and panadol that I left for you. I’ve got to go out for the day and won’t be done until 7pm so I can’t be back until about 7:30.

If you wake up and would like to, you could find a restaurant and book a table for 7:30 and I will meet you there. Just text me the address.

Hope that you have a nice day.
Love Clay <3

After shutting the bedroom door I left the hotel room so that I could go to Monica’s hotel in another part of London. I put her address into my GPS and it said I would arrive at seven minutes to nine, but knowing what traffic was like at this time in the morning it would probably be later than that.

My hands were holding the steering wheel tightly, as I glanced down from the road periodically I could see that they were both white. Along with that, my entire lower body; my legs, and feet, were shaking.

When I reached the hotel I parked on the street, staring at the entrance for a few minutes as the clock ticked progressively closer to 9am and I considered taking the chance to call Monica and say I was feeling sick. But I didn’t.

I finally gained the confidence to get out of the car at 8:58, two minutes before I was meant to be in the hotel with Monica and with her son. After taking my time locking the car I walked into the lobby where two receptionists were talking to a family of four.

After just watching them for a couple moments I walked over to one of them and he smiled at me. “Good morning Sir, welcome to the Beverly Hotel. Do you have a reservation?”
“No, I'm here to visit someone.” I responded. “Her name is Monica Clearwaters. She should be in room 37.”

“And what is your name?” He questioned, picking up a landline that was sitting next to him on the desk with the hotel's logo on it and beginning to press some buttons on the pad.
“Clay Smith.” I answered, hoping that he and the other people in earshot wouldn’t know who I was and what my relationship with Monica was, but nobody said anything.

The receptionist nodded before finishing dialling and putting the phone to his ear. A couple seconds passed before he talked. “Good morning Ms’ Clearwaters. A man is down here in reception for you, a Mr Clay Smith, he is wanting to come up to your room.” There were a few moments where he said nothing before he continued. “Alright, I’ll let him up.”

I let out a breath of relief, or possibly of anxiousness as the receptionist hung up before walking around the side of the desk and beginning to lead me over to the elevator. He inserted his key card which opened the doors before pressing the button onto the third floor. I thanked him as he stepped out and the doors shut.

The ride up was quite quick, and within half a minute the doors opened again and I stepped out onto the third floor. It was a corridor with wooden panel walls and deep green carpet, and my hands clasped each other worriedly as I walked over to the closest door and read the number on the golden plaque.

It was not the right one and so I continued along, but before I got too far the familiar ravenette woman stepped out of a room further down the hallway. “Clay.” She grinned. “I’m so happy to see you. Our son is so excited.” I decided not to comment about how her kid is not actually my son, but didn’t and just said something about how I was happy to be here instead.

She took my hand, which I also wasn’t liking but wasn’t going to comment about and she opened the door to her room, where I was immediately met with a five year old boy running over to me eagerly.
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1218 words

Isn't the letter Clay wrote sweet?

Also, how do you think this is going to turn out?