by Laurie Gene
He stalked over to the valet and handed the driver his ticket. The street was practically empty, everyone being inside and enjoying the festivities of the wedding reception. He shoved his hands in his pockets and started pacing without trying to make it obvious that he was frustrated. Paparazzi could be anywhere, and he didn't need people interpreting his behavior for themselves.
When the driver pulled up his car, Nick turned. He didn't want to see if Bonnie had followed him. He didn't want to care.
But he did.
And she wasn't there.
He let out a sigh. As upset as he was, he wasn't surprised.
And that said it all.
Chapter 6: Abby
After Nick left, work at the wedding was boring. There was no one particularly interesting to look at and all people seemed to care about was betting when the seemingly happy couple would succumb to temptation and either cheat or file for divorce. Even Nick Strafford, billionaire playboy, was ready to settle down, which was definitely not on point for his brand. Was he being forced to get married? Had he gotten her pregnant?
Probably not, because he had announced his engagement four months ago, which meant she would have to be showing if she was pregnant.
Maybe.
Not that it mattered, of course. Abby did not know why she was focused so much on her new boss and his love life. Part of her wanted to say she was romantic, which meant she could live vicariously through them instead of focusing on how terribly single she currently was. But it was more than that. She didn't particularly care about being single and she didn't particularly like Bonnie, so there was no reason for her to want to live through that.
But she did find it interesting that one of New York's more eligible bachelors had done a one-eighty and decided that he was going to marry his latest girlfriend.
"Watch it!" one of the waiters snapped under his breath.
Abby blinked and sidestepped out of the way. The music was playing so loud, it was difficult to concentrate, but she had been focused on Nick without an issue. It was helping with being bored at a monotonous job.
She went back to the kitchen to collect more of her weenies before stepping out onto the floor once again. Her heel was starting to trouble her, and she realized she was probably getting a blister simply from walking around in her shoes for a long portion of the time.
As she strolled through the crowd, her thoughts drifted back to Nick and his interesting choice of settling down. Maybe now that she worked with him, she thought she had a right to judge his choices about his personal life.
Or maybe it's because you're surprised by how attracted you are to him and you're upset that he's actually with someone in a serious sense because it means you don't have a shot, even in your dreams, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Saffron's wafted through her had.
Abby tilted her chin up, her lips pressed into a thin line. She refused to acknowledge the voice. She refused to admit that it might possibly be true because Saffron had an insufferable way of sniffing it out no matter how much Abby tried to keep it buried.
In the end, it didn't matter what Nick ultimately decided to do with his life. Like everyone else watching, Abby was on the outside. She wasn't living his life. She hadn't walked in his shoes.
Honestly, Abby couldn't blame him for leaving. He was at a wedding where the guests were taking bets on the couple's demise—and these people were supposed to be friends. Abby did not want to have these sorts of friends. In fact, she would rather be isolated and alone that have these people in her life. Part of her felt bad for the recently-married couple, but then again, part of her didn't. These people chose what company they decided to keep. Certainly, they knew what sort of people their so-called friends really were.
Bonnie seemed annoyed by whatever Nick said, but it wasn't as obvious. No wrinkles appeared on her face, but she did furrow her brow. Bonnie replied and it seemed to frustrate Nick further.
Abby wondered if this had anything to do with her. She wasn't the sort of person to think she caused things. She didn't like to think she was narcissistic or even worthy of causing a fight, especially between a powerful couple. In fact, it wouldn't make much sense, especially considering there was no way in hell Bonnie could ever be jealous Abby.
"Is that Nick Strafford?" Liv asked, coming up behind Abby and speaking so suddenly Abby nearly dropped her tray of weenies. "And that must be the woman he's going to marry—Bonnie Whatever-Her-Name-Is.."
Abby didn't bother to correct her. That was a close enough name as it was.
"It's weird," Liv continued, adjusting her tray but keeping her eyes focused on Nick. "I've seen celebrities before doing this, like really famous people. But for some reason, I'm slightly star-struck by Nick Strafford. Is that weird? He's not a movie star or a singer or anything crazy. He's just a businessman who made a lot of money. And yet, I seriously can't seem to force myself to go over there and offer him food. Stupid, right?"
"No," Abby said, shaking her head. "Not stupid."
"Did you RSVP for that ball he's throwing for charity?" Liv asked, pulling her attention away from Nick and looking at Abby. "Mom made sure to send in ours ASAP. She went to the post office to pay extra for overnight delivery. We've already got our confirmation letters."
"You think my stepmom is really going to let me go to something like that?" Abby asked. She scoffed, shaking her head. "Nope, no way. I begged her to let me go. My mom had this really gorgeous dress, and Trixie and Saffron ruined it so I have nothing to wear anyway."
"That's not fair," Liv said. "The invitation said everyone is invited."
"I know," Abby said, her heart swelling with happiness at the recent memory. "I know."
The masquerade was the last thing Pamela had trained Abby on. She still wasn't sure she understood half of what Pamela told her about it, either. To be honest, Abby was excited to have some part in the creation of this masquerade.
She didn't think she was a romantic but dressing up in a fancy dress and heading to the lobby of a fancy building in order to dance with a stranger on a spring evening in New York City was the epitome of a modern-day fairytale. Abby didn't like to admit it, but she was looking forward to it, especially considering there was a decent possibility that she might actually meet someone while she was there.
The only problem was, her stepfamily wouldn't let her go. She would have helped create it, but she wouldn’t be allowed to attend, thanks to her stepmother What frustrated Abby more than anything was the fact that they somehow believed that they had any control over her in the first place. She was a grown adult who was allowed to make choices for herself and her life without having to check in with anyone regarding the matter. But if she wanted to live at the penthouse, she needed to change that mindset, unfortunately.
"Living here if a privilege, not a right," Angelica had told her a week after her father had passed. "If you would like to continue to do so, there are certain rules I expect you to follow. Do you understand?"
What choice did Abby have? Because they couldn't afford their housekeeper now that Dad wasn't bringing in a steady income, they looked at Abby as responsible for the cleaning, the cooking, the laundry, everything that had to do with ensuring the penthouse was in order and sparkling.
She wouldn't say anything. It wasn't in her to do that just yet. But she would complain to Liv on a daily basis who would constantly tell her to move out and come live with her.
Abby couldn't do that. It wasn't that she was stubborn or prideful. She just didn't want this penthouse—the last thing she really had that belonged to her father—to fall to her stepmother completely. She might be planning to move out at some point, but at some point, she’d like to buy the penthouse from her so she could keep it in the family. At least living here connected her to her parents in some way. Instead of looking at cleaning the penthouse as a chore or a punishment, she began to see it as a way for her to continue her parents' legacy by honoring what they left behind. It was the only real way for her
to get through not letting herself go off on all of them.
"Can't you just tell them it's for your job?" Liv continued, adjusting the tray in her hand. "I mean, it is, right? Nick Stafford is the one responsible for throwing the party, right?"
Abby nodded. "Yeah," she said. "He is. And yes, technically, now that Pamela is on maternity leave, the masquerade is my responsibility. However—"
"Of course there's a however," Liv said, rolling her dark eyes and blowing out a breath to push a stray black hair from her face.
"I haven't told them about the job."
Liv widened her eyes slightly and tilted her head in Abby's direction. "You, what?" she asked. "How could you not tell them? It's the perfect way to tell them they can't do anything to you anymore. You don't need them. You have a way to make money on your own. You don't need to take care of them like they're a bunch of insipid people who can't be bothered to lift a single finger to do anything for themselves."
"I just..." Abby took a deep breath, shifting her gaze across the room. Music started playing and people were starting to dance. "I just don't want them to take it from me, you know?"
"I'm not sure how they would even have the ability to do that," Liv said. There was an annoyed flair in her tone that probably deserved to be there. "You are an adult, Abby. They can't take anything from you unless you let them. I know you feel you have this loyalty to the penthouse. I get that it's the house your father bought when you were a kid and you have so many memories there. I get it. But that doesn't mean you need to make these ridiculous sacrifices to appease ghosts.
“I didn't know your parents, unfortunately. I didn't know how they were and how they treated you. But I'm almost positive that they weren't the sort of parents who forced you to be part of something that made you feel bad about yourself or that made you feel awful and wretched. They wouldn't want you to be around people who didn't have your best interests at heart. I mean, you're working shitty side jobs in order to get out of the penthouse. Now, you have a decent job that will no doubt do that for you. And you can't even tell anyone anything."
Abby shifted her weight. The last thing she expected was a lecture, but she couldn't help but feel the words sink in. Unfortunately, Liv was right. And she wasn't quite sure how to handle what to do next.
"Look," Liv said. "The reception is almost done. I'm not saying you need to completely change your relationship with them. I know I'm not in your shoes. I know it's hard. But maybe go to the masquerade. Everyone is invited, and you're pretty much guaranteed a spot since you work with Nick. I would just hate for you to have to sacrifice everything because of them."
Abby nodded. "No, I know."
"Good," Liv said, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's not like you have to make any decisions now, though."
Abby nodded. That was true as well.
"Good," Liv said. "Now let's get back to work before Mom has a hernia."
Chapter 7: Nick
When Monday rolled around, Bonnie still hadn't returned home and Nick had had his best weekend of sleep in months. Part of him felt terrible for acknowledging such a thing, but it could not be helped. He knew she had gone to stay with her mother - she always did when she was upset, so there wasn’t cause for concern.
He sprung out of bed and hopped in the shower. One of those annoying pop songs had gotten stuck in his head overnight and he was practically singing as the hot water pelted his body, waking up his tired muscles and getting him ready for the day.
When he headed downstairs, Consuela, his maid, and personal chef, already had two omelets prepared.
"No Bonnie this morning, sir?" she asked, tucking hair behind her ear.
"No Bonnie this morning," he said with a grin before taking a seat at the barstool and biting of his omelet. "Consuela, I know I tell you this every time, but once again, you surprise me. This is delicious. Thank you so much for your hard work and effort."
"Of course, Mr. Nick," she said with a nod and disappeared upstairs.
Nick reveled in the silence. He grabbed one of the many newspapers he was subscribed to on the bar and started reading the day's current events in peace. Everything was as it should be. Everything was fine.
His phone began to ring. When he glanced down at the screen, he frowned. What did his mother want at seven o'clock in the morning?
"Mom?" he answered after swallowing a mushroom. "Everything okay?"
"Nick," his mom said, and his spine stiffened the same way it used to when she used that tone with him as a teenager. "Why is your fiancée spending the night at my house because of a fight you had at a wedding where you left her by herself? I honestly don't care about your problems with her, what I'm confused about is why she thinks it's perfectly fine to show up at my place in the middle of Saturday night, mascara running down her face, claiming you left without her."
The mushroom suddenly tasted stale in his mouth and he practically gagged on it. His appetite vanished. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sucked in some air, trying to figure out how to respond.
"Mom, I didn't leave her, okay? I walked out and I expected she would follow me and I told her as much. She opted to stay at the reception and play the victim."
"That's all fine and dandy, but Gran didn't get to go to church because Bonnie wouldn't shut up about how awful you were to her."
"I'm sorry?" Nick asked, snapping his eyes open. "What happened?"
"I took her in, gave her a room, thinking she would leave sometime Sunday and I wouldn't be bothered," his mom replied, "but she is still here. She joined us yesterday at breakfast and captured us by not letting us leave. She kept going on and on and on about you and your evil ways."
"She knows you guys are my family, right?" Nick asked. "Why would she feel comfortable telling you this sort of thing?"
"You're asking me like I know." Nick couldn't see his mother, but he could envision her hovered over her kitchen phone, cord wrapped around her finger, brows pushed together so a vertical line appeared over her nose. He knew what that line meant since he was a little and he did his best to avoid putting it on her face. Once that line appeared, his life, for that day, was over.
It was too bad it apparently didn't work on people outside the family. Although, if Nick was being honest, Bonnie wasn't the sort of person who was easily intimidated.
"Listen, I've already informed her that I can't control my son," his mother continued. Now, Nick was sure she was pacing. "You are an adult. I know you but I don't know you in the same way she does. Maybe you did leave her at that wedding. Maybe it's all a big misunderstanding. I don't know. I really don't care."
"I did leave her at the wedding," Nick said.
"You what?" his mom snapped. "You set this on me, Nick?"
"I had no idea she was going to go to your place." He took a small sip of his coffee before he picked up his fork and pushed pieces of omelet around his plate. "I thought she would follow me. Mom, that wedding was suffocating. I had to get out of there. It was filled with awful people who Bonnie considers her friends. Bonnie was acting jealous over some waitress."
"Nick," his mother drawled. "I know you have a reputation—"
"If I'm choosing to get married, I'm choosing to be loyal, Mom," Nick said. "I'm not stupid. Having a prenup is going to protect me but violating that prenup in any way is going to screw me over. Do you think I would risk that? No way in hell."
"Apparently this waitress was very talkative and Bonnie didn't like that."
"Bonnie doesn't even realize what happened," Nick said. "The waitress—Abby—is my new executive assistant now that Pamela is on maternity leave. She came over to say hi and we got to talking. She also offered me a weenie. She was doing her job. I don't understand why Bonnie thinks that's the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone ever, but apparently it is."
"Is she pretty?"
"Who?" Nick stopped moving his food around.
"The waitress."
He rolled his eyes. "Mom, I'm not going to have you
set me up, okay?"
"Honey, she isn't even down here," his mother informed him. "You know she sleeps in until nine, right? Just tell me. Between us. Is the waitress pretty?"
"Mom," Nick said, a warning in his voice. He released a breath. "Honestly, Mom, the waitress is beautiful in an earthy sort of way."
"Oh, God, Nick, I knew this was going to happen." He didn't need to see his mother to recognize her tone. She was probably pinching the bridge of her nose, letting out a sigh of frustration, and rolling her eyes as though she was stressed out but she still knew something as ridiculous as this was going to happen.
"What?" Nick asked. "What are you talking about?"
"Honey, it's okay," his mother said. "It's okay. There's no point in arguing who you are, right? Let's not pretend."
"Pretend what?" Nick asked. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Honey, you've always had a specific reputation," his mother said. Nick could hear the care in her words, which meant this wasn't the first time she had thought about what she was about to say. It was, of course, the first time he had heard her say such things. "And that's fine. That's great. You are allowed to have whatever sort of reputation you want and nobody can take that away from you or force you to conform to specific standards that you don't necessarily agree with. Do you understand what I mean, honey?"
Nick shook his head and then remembered that his mother couldn't see him. He took a long sip of his now-lukewarm coffee, staring at the kitchen sink in front of him.
"No, Mom," he said, setting down the mug. "I do not know what you mean."
"You're making this very difficult, you know."
"Likewise."
There was a pause, and for a second, Nick thought his mother was going to come up with a retort.
