by Melissa Blue
Drew buried his hands in her hair and kissed her again, harder and more desperate. Abigail let herself fall into the madness with him. She wanted to pull back to say, Don’t stop. Don’t leave. She didn’t want it to end, but he stepped back from her, and she didn’t say those words.
“When you find out the answers, give me a call.” He let out a breath, and cold seeped into her bones. “I need to go talk to your boss about Janice.”
When Drew left the room, he didn’t stop to look back one more time. He didn’t do any of the actions she saw in the movies or read in books when a man was leaving the woman he loved. He just left her. A first for Abigail and the simple action felt like he had broken her heart into a million unidentifiable pieces.
Chapter Fifteen
The rest of the day passed in a blur for Abigail, but at some point she drove to Emma’s house. She used the borrowed house key and stepped into the warmth and light and laughter that always seemed to fill Emma’s home. Home. In Drew’s neat handwriting he’d written down the word. It meant so much to them both and the understanding went without saying. Home had been the basis for her presentation, the one Janice screwed up in the end. Just like Abigail screwed up with Drew.
She hiccuped and finally felt the smattering of tears running down her face. Her vision cleared enough to see Josh staring at her in horror.
“Is Emma here?” she asked and hiccuped again, not caring that she probably looked deranged.
“You look…distressed. How about you sit down?” Josh led Abigail to the living room and settled her onto the couch.
She slumped into the cushions, picked up a pillow and buried her face in it.
“Are you trying to smother yourself?” Josh peeled back some of the pillow to look at her.
She let out a watery laugh. “No. I can’t turn it off.”
“Right, deep breath, through the nose.” Josh’s expression had softened. “Again.”
She nodded, already starting to feel better. She did it again and noticed the fear had left his gaze, finally. Another moment passed and he looked wildly around and yelled for Emma.
The moment her friend entered, Josh jumped off the coffee table and left the room. Abigail rested her chin on the pillow and looked at Emma. It only took one glance at Abigail’s face for her best friend to say, “Oh, hell.”
“Crisis?” A deep baritone called from the kitchen. Tobias.
Emma nodded and sat on the couch, arm already encircling Abigail. She didn’t say anything, but leaned into the offered shoulder. Minutes passed as a flurry of noise came from behind them. She heard Josh mutter something about estrogen-soaked walls and then a grunt of pain, also Josh’s.
Abigail looked over the edge of the couch. There wasn’t a smile, but affection in his expression when Tobias said, “Crisis is code word for no men allowed.”
“We haven’t worked out in a gym in ages anyway.” Josh didn’t quite meet her gaze as he told the lie.
Abigail wiped at her face and sat up from Emma’s shoulder. At the door the men moved aside for Sasha to come whirling in. Paint splattered from head to toe, the red curls bounced as she plopped down onto the coffee table in front of both women.
“You got here quick,” Abigail said.
“Josh sent me a text.”
“I’ll get some snacks.” Emma didn’t go to the kitchen. She went to the door first, to Tobias.
It pained Abigail to see the intimacy in the subtle touches and quiet tones they used with each other. She turned away and caught Sasha watching her.
Abigail sighed. “He broke up with me.”
Sasha leaned forward, taking her hands. “What happened?”
Abigail bit her lip and tried to piece together how one thing led to another. “I can’t even call it an argument, but by the end of it we were over.”
Emma placed a tray on the table next to Sasha, which was just a stupid idea, but Abigail didn’t care.
“This whole thing feels like my fault, but I don’t even know what the hell I did wrong. I spoke my mind like I always do, and he ended it. He just walked away from us without an explanation. Without even getting angry, like it was nothing. We were nothing. Is this how it feels when someone else breaks up with you?” She slouched down. “I don’t like this.”
Sasha laughed. Abigail narrowed her eyes at her friend.
“What?” Sasha said. “Of course it sucks, and it’s going to hurt, too. For days and weeks until you stop missing him. But, you’ll get through this pain.” Sasha squeezed her hands again. “But this doesn’t sound like Drew. What happened, exactly?”
“So now you know him?” Abigail asked.
“How do you not know him?” Sasha shot back. “After all this time, when the man has been head over heels for you since the beginning.”
“Don’t say that.” Abigail sucked in a breath like Josh had told her to do.
“Why not? You love him back; otherwise there wouldn’t be snot bubbles.”
Abigail winced and put a hand up to cover her nose. Sasha laughed and pulled down her hand. “Figure of speech. Now tell us what happened.”
Abigail closed her eyes, recalled and recited the conversation from hours ago. Somehow she’d gotten through work. She kept up the brave face while Janice packed up her things at the end of the day. Maybe she’d been numb and the break up hadn’t felt quite real yet. Hell, they’d only started really dating. They had plans for the end of the work day. The next day they’d head out to the museum. In between, it had gone without saying, they’d spend in bed. The future hadn’t been written in stone, but what had been there would have been wonderful.
“I wasn’t ready for our relationship to be over.” Abigail swallowed back the fear trying to rise. “I don’t think—I don’t feel like I would have ever been.”
Emma offered her shoulder again and Abigail took it. “You should have answered the questions. I know you and you know the answers.”
“They’re stupid questions,” Abigail said. “Give me a piece of that tart.”
Since Sasha had been going at them without pause, she handed Abigail one. “They’re not stupid. What’s stupid is being too scared to let him see you vulnerable for two seconds.”
“Hey,” Abigail said and bit into the tart.
Sasha snorted. “We all know I’m the fancy-free and foot-loose one. I avoid commitment like the plague.”
“Used to.” Emma patted Sasha’s knee.
“Same difference. I also pick up the slack when you’re not being bitchy enough.”
Abigail sniffed. “True.”
“I’m picking up the slack right now. What made you want to have a relationship with him?” Sasha’s voice softened. “You know the answer to that.”
“He can see past my bullshit. He’s charming. He’s funny. He makes me want to see if I can surprise him. With him it feels right. It’s not easy, because he’s stubborn and opinionated. I mean, he’s so independent it’s hard imagining him wanting to be with me for the long haul.”
“If you can say all that, why haven’t you called?” Sasha asked.
Just thinking about telling him all those things sent her heart into overdrive. Not because they made her vulnerable, because in the end, would it matter if she made the leap of faith?
“In twenty years, he cheats or I cheat,” Abigail said. “Or five months from now he starts to get bored and wants to end it. A year from now, I simply cannot stand his mother and he lets her butt in on every aspect of our relationship. Everything is great and then we have a kid. He doesn’t help as much as I need him to. Or I lose my mind and start going out to party more after the baby. All these things can happen and it won’t matter that we love each other.”
The tears began to slide down her face again. “Being compatible won’t mean a damn thing. Life happens and then where are we? Am I heartbroken like I am now only ten times worse, because I actually believed in it?”
“In what?” Emma ran a hand down her hair.
“Love
. Forever. Happily ever after.” Abigail hiccuped.
“Oh.” Sasha picked up another pastry. “Have another tart.”
Emma sighed. “I think we’ve been screwed up by happily ever after. Only because we believe it to mean happy every single, solitary moment.”
Abigail swallowed. “But how do I know he’s it?”
“Sweetheart,” Emma said and smiled. “In every dooms-day scenario you depicted, you talked about the future with him. You can see your life together sprawling out before you. How right does it feel that it’s only him you see?”
Abigail placed a fist over her heart. “So right it breaks my heart a little.”
“Then he’s the one,” Emma said.
“But,” Abigail started to say and both women glared at her. She sniffed. “He walked away. He ended us.”
Sasha shook her head, putting two fingers between her brows. “And how does that make you feel?”
Abigail frowned at her friend. “Very, very…hurt.”
“And?”
She considered the question and laughed. “Pissed. Extremely. I know once I stop crying I’m going to fly into a serious rage and have it out with him.”
“Now I want you to say to my face that he doesn’t know you.” Sasha raised her brows in challenge.
Abigail hadn’t believed him at the time, but now she knew Drew had been right. He’d known her. He’d known just walking away, if he really mattered, would piss her off to high heaven. Walking away first would make her see how much she didn’t want him to do that. Ever. Ever. And, God, how much that had to hurt. How much it meant that he trusted her, them. Warmth spread in her chest, chasing away some of the ache. Abigail let out a breath, able to sit up straight without Emma’s support.
A couple of hours and already she missed him like hell. And something had to be done about that. “So?” she said to her friends.
Sasha grinned. “I think our intrepid heroine needs a grand gesture.”
“Indeed,” Emma said. “It seems she does.”
The red curls bounced as Sasha situated on the coffee table. “You know, I vote for something naked.”
“Of course you would.” Abigail finished off the tart.
“It’s not that bad of an idea,” Emma murmured. “It is Drew.”
“And nothing says love like hooker boots,” Sasha said.
“Oh, gawd.” Abigail fell back on the couch, and then she laughed. “We so need to grow up.”
“We do,” Emma said.
Abigail, ready for battle, thought of the plans they’d made at the end of the work day. Ones she’d looked forward to, because it meant being near him and vice versa. They’d been away from each other long enough as it was. Years, if she thought long about it. So…she said in an offhand manner, “I was invited to this birthday party.”
*****
“I would say I told you so, but you look so wretched you might deck me,” Marilyn said. “I will also say it’s my birthday and I’m the only one who can cry.”
She shifted in the chair that sat right under the neon sign in McNally’s. The light and the tiara she’d placed on her head highlighted the sable-colored hair and the blush staining her cheeks.
“If you were a man, I’d deck you for how you approached Greg about Abigail and me.” He grimaced as the shot of whiskey burned down his throat. “And you’re not right about Abigail.”
“Man, she broke up with you. What is it with her and Carter men?” Marilyn played with the swirly straw in her Pina Colada. “Where is Greg and wifey?”
He ignored her and raised a finger at the barkeep behind the counter. “Abigail’s soft and cuddly, unlike you.”
“She’s not. She’s abrasive and stubborn. Before you would have noticed, she’d have wrangled you into a decent man.”
He grinned at his cousin. “Well, she sounds so familiar. No wonder I’m head over heels.” The waiter didn’t have time to set down the drink before he knocked back half of the contents. “And I am a decent man already. I just don’t show it to everybody.”
Marilyn sighed. “You are, and Abigail and I probably are alike. Us Carters like prickly women though.”
He frowned. “Keri isn’t prickly.”
“That you know of.”
Drew conceded the point. “Why are you over here? To pour salt in the wound? Go mingle. Cut your cake. Dance topless on the bar. Leave me alone.” He finished his drink and Marilyn didn’t budge from her seat. He sighed. “She didn’t break up with me. I gave her an ultimatum wrapped in a get-out-of-jail-free card and that makes me an idiot.”
“It does.”
Only two shots, but already he was done for because Marilyn’s voice sounded like Abigail’s. He glanced up to see Marilyn’s mouth hanging open. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He slanted his head to the left and there she stood. His heart thumped in his chest both from relief and anticipation. She’d come to claim him as hers, the intention was plain on her face.
And…his harebrained plan worked. She’d seen through him walking away and that meant she’d finally seen him. The man who loved her.
He couldn’t contain the action. He needed to touch her. So he reached out to Abigail, caressed her cheek. “Abby, you came.” The emotions tightening his throat made the words rasp out.
“You crashed my party,” Marilyn complained.
“Technically, I was invited.” Abigail rested her face in his palm, eyes closed for a quiet moment. Eventually, she sucked in a deep breath, opened her eyes and said, “My friends said I was supposed to make some grand gesture. Sasha nominated something naked. Emma nominated something sappy and sweet, because you know, she’s got happily ever after on the brain.”
He dropped his hand and let it rest on the empty glass. “And you?”
“I figured to make this thing a full circle. I crashed a wedding. Might as well crash a party. And…” She grinned. “Marilyn, we’re dating and probably more, so suck it up and deal with it. And you should know I love him. I probably did every time I called him a man-whore or a lush. It was there.” Her voice lowered. “Always there.”
Marilyn picked up her drink and stood. “As grand gestures go that sucked, but since you’re here I don’t have to act mopey with my favorite cousin.” She frowned. “You brought the cavalry?”
Drew followed Marilyn’s gaze. Emma stood at the bar with her hands clasped on her chest. Sasha had the same pouty smile she always had.
“They’re here to watch,” Drew muttered. Marilyn snorted and walked away.
“My friends are voyeurs.” Abigail shrugged but looked happy.
“Really?”
Abigail laughed, shaking back the ebony strands from her face. “God help me, I love you anyway.”
He tugged her hand so she’d fall in his lap, and Abigail did without question. “Are you still scared?” he whispered in her ear.
“The usual amount.”
Drew placed a finger on her chin so she’d face him. He had to see her expression when he said the next words. “I want to marry you. Not right this moment Vegas style, but one of those trumped up, bragging rights kind of weddings. In front of every family member we have. ’Cause they’ll want to witness it and say it actually happened.” He paused and watched her face. “What do you think about my end game?”
She sucked in a slow breath and her eyes filled with tears. From a mile away anyone looking could see there was no fear, only love. “You’d have to do the proposal right, down on one knee, in front of God and everybody. You’ll lose all rights to your reputation.”
He shrugged. “Well, that was my end game during the argument.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “I love you and we both know it.”
Her bottom lip trembled. “Yeah. I do. You walked away from me. Don’t do that. Ever. It hurts and I don’t really care for it.”
He snorted. “I knew you’d come for me. I know you, Abby.”
She cradled his face in her hands and laid her head ag
ainst his, a soft cry escaped. He nodded because she didn’t have to say it. She knew him, too, finally, and he was the man she loved. The man she could see herself marrying, having babies with, fighting with and for and no one else would do.
She blinked back the tears. “I promise to do something wicked to you later for being so smug.”
He smiled. “And I am looking forward to it.”
And then she kissed him. His brain misfired like it usually did when she was around, but the kiss felt right, absolutely right, because it felt like home.
Bio
Melissa Blue’s writing career started on a typewriter one month after her son was born. This would have been an idyllic situation for a writer if it had been 1985, not 2004. Eventually she upgraded to a computer. She’s still typing away on the same computer, making imaginary people fall in love.
Where to find me online or places to sign up for my newsletter to get the latest news:
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My Website
Other Titles by Melissa Blue
Double Dare, A Modern Fairy Tale: Book 1
First impressions are lasting impressions…
Pastry baker Emmaline Sharp is one business connection away from turning her bakery into something more than the dessert shop on the corner. She believes she’s found Mr. Right in café owner Tobias Merchant. His Caff-aholic brand of freshly brewed coffee makes him the perfect partner. When she accepts a dare that thrusts her naked self into Tobias’ waiting arms, she jeopardizes her entire future. Emma will have to convince him to give her another chance, and somehow she’ll just have to ignore the unexpected passion he ignites within her.
Tobias needs the connection with Emma’s bakery, Sweet Tooth, in order to liberate himself from the financial and emotional obligations of his past. Unfortunately, Emma’s reckless behavior leaves him doubting she can be level-headed and business savvy. Every one of his instincts tells him to walk away, but she’s a temptation he can’t seem to deny. He’s inexplicably drawn to the lightness in her, especially when he knows just how dark the world can be. Against his better judgment, Tobias ignores his instincts and proceeds to form a partnership with Emma.
