Club Abbott: The Fight (Club Abbott Series, #4)

by Hazel Kelly

“Yeah,” I said. “With fried rice.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “And Christophe?”

  “Yeah.”

  “See if they’ll give you a few extra fortune cookies.”

  “Is that really what it’s come to?”

  “Just do it, okay? I could really use some good news right about now.”

  The cab pulled up at the curb as I hung up, and I pulled a few bills from my wallet. “Keep the change,” I said, getting out. “And sorry about my language.”

  The guy nodded and peeled off as soon as I closed the door.

  I turned and looked up at the building. It was the least flashy of all its neighbors, not that I had any expectations.

  When I found the door for Rick’s office, I pushed against the frosted glass and was greeted by an office and a receptionist that looked straight out of the fifties.

  “Hi,” I said, flapping the collar of my coat down. “I’m here to see, Rick.”

  Another frosted glass door swung open a second later. “Ben,” he said, taking a step towards me and extending his hand. “I was starting to think you’d changed your mind about coming.”

  I shook his hand. “No. Just got caught up. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “No problem,” he said, leading the way into his office. “Come on in and have a seat.”

  I followed his lead and sat down in the chair across from his desk, wishing with everything that I was in Carrie’s office, that he was Carrie, and that I had a second chance to make things right.

  Instead, I just stared at the five hanging silver balls on his stupid desk ornament and felt grateful that they weren’t clacking back and forth.

  “So,” he said, clasping his hands in front of him. “I understand you want me to look into some guy for you. Make sure he’s who he says he is.”

  The whole thing felt so silly I half expected the guy to light a cigar and start talking out of the side of his mouth.

  He cocked his head. “Is that about the size of it?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Is that something you can do?”

  “Ben, Ben, Ben,” he said. “That’s the very least I can do.”

  Chapter 17: Carrie

  I was ready to drop by the time I got back to my building that night.

  My body was exhausted from Ben’s unexpected visit and my mind was wasted from thinking about it to death afterwards.

  I wasn’t even going to bother getting my mail, but the type A receptionist was on duty and wasn’t about to let me skulk by without collecting my package.

  I hadn’t ordered anything, but sure enough my name was written on the box. I fiddled with the tape across the top on the way to the elevator, but I decided a broken nail was one more thing I didn’t need.

  When the elevator doors closed, I shut my eyes and let my head fall back against the wall, feeling like I could probably fall asleep right where I stood if it weren’t for all the stopping and starting.

  A moment later, I was closing my door behind me, relieved at the prospect of slipping on some sweats and getting to bed early.

  Just as soon as I figured out what was inside the little mystery box.

  I’d just slid a knife across the first taped edge when my phone started buzzing in my purse by the door.

  I dragged my ass over and dug it out. “Hi.”

  “Carrie Louise Callihan you’re in big trouble.”

  “You’re supposed to be staying calm, Dad, and you don’t sound calm.”

  “How could I be calm when I’ve just found out you called off your wedding and didn’t tell me!”

  I took two steps towards the couch and sat down on the edge of it. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “I don’t have dementia! It’s not like my brain can’t handle new information.”

  I wrapped my hand around my forehead. “It’s not like I was never going to tell you. I just wanted to make sure your heart was okay first.”

  “Who gives a shit about mine when yours must be breaking?!”

  I let my knees fall together. “I’m okay. Really.”

  “Nonsense. If you were okay, your mother would’ve told me sooner.”

  “She probably made it out to be bigger than it is-”

  “She said he cheated on you!”

  I dropped my head and stared at my feet.

  “Is that true?”

  I sighed.

  “Carrie Lou-”

  “Yeah. It’s true.” If he’d had this reaction a month ago, I probably would’ve burst into tears, relieved to hear the anger in his voice. But I was too tired today, too tired and fucked in the head.

  “Where is he?”

  “You can’t go after him, Dad.”

  “Not without a plan,” he said. “But as soon as I find out where he is-”

  “Stop.” I shook my head. “Just stop. That won’t help anything.”

  “Oh honey. I don’t know how to help you. I can’t believe he would do that to you after coming here and asking for your hand and eating us out of house and home last Christmas.”

  “I know.”

  “Your mother said you’ve called everything off.”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “How could he do this to you?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself the same question.”

  “Is he sorry at least?”

  I looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “I like to think so. He still maintains he’d like to get back together.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “No. I don’t think I can forgive him. And I don’t want to marry someone I can’t trust.”

  “Mmm.”

  “I want what you and Mom have, and it doesn’t look like I can have that with Simon.”

  “Yeah, things were great between your mom and me until she kept this news about your wedding to herself.”

  “Please don’t be mad at her,” I said. “I asked her to keep it from you until she was sure you were better.”

  “She said she borrowed money from you, too.”

  “Just a little.”

  “We’ll pay every penny back.”

  “You don’t have to,” I said. “My business is really taking off now so-”

  “I insist.”

  “Well, there’s no rush,” I said. “I was actually going to ask if you needed to borrow any more- just until you’re back on your feet.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “Cause it’s no trouble.”

  “I forbid it.”

  “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  “You can’t change your mind once you forbid something, Carrie. Otherwise, how would anyone ever take you seriously again?”

  “No offense, Dad, but you forbid stuff all the time and then take it back.”

  “I do not.”

  “You forbid me to go to the prom.”

  “I was being unreasonable.”

  “You forbid me to get a hair wrap in Florida.”

  “It wasn’t worth upsetting you.”

  I smiled. “You forbid me from drinking alcohol.”

  “I was probably drunk at the time.”

  “My point is, it’s okay if you change your mind.”

  “Do you want us to come up for a visit?” he asked. “Your mother and I can get a cheap Spirit flight at the beginning of next week.”

  I shook my head. “No. It’s not a good time. I’m really busy with work so I wouldn’t be able to enjoy your visit.”

  “You’ll still fly out for Christmas though, won’t you?”

  “If I can.”

  “If you can?!”

  “I have a client with a New Year’s Eve deadline so I’m pretty swamped.”

  “Sounds like a bad client.”

  I nodded. “The worst.”

  “What makes him think he can have you bending over backwards at the holidays?”

  I scrunched my face. “I couldn’t possibly say.” />
  He sighed. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “I am.”

  “But if you and your mother ever hide anything from me again, I swear to god I’ll have a heart attack so big you’ll both have to drop everything and feed me baby food for the rest of my life.”

  “Dad! Don’t say that. That’s terrible!”

  “I know. Just like you and your mother’s scheming. And don’t you forget it.”

  “Is that all? I was just about to make some dinner.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll check back in with you in a few days, honey. Just wanted you to know that I’m pissed and thinking of you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  I hung up and turned my phone on silent. I didn’t need any more surprises. I just wanted to open this stupid box and get in bed, maybe with some buttered popcorn for dinner cause I’d had a craving for days that just wouldn’t go away.

  Then again, the improvised bowl of Goldfish cereal I’d had last night wasn’t half bad.

  I walked back into the kitchen, sliced the other taped edge, and put the knife back down. Then I flapped the cardboard lid open and looked inside.

  The contents were wrapped in white tissue paper. I pulled the clump out, laid it on the counter, and unwrapped it carefully.

  When I saw what it was, my heart caught in my throat.

  It was the snowflake I made coated in a thin layer of glass, with a fuzzy gold string looped through a little hole at the top.

  But the delicate gold calligraphy didn’t say what it was supposed to.

  The date was correct, but instead of having “Will & Ella” written across it, it said “Carrie & Ben.”

  I dragged my fingers across the names and then turned it over in my hands, discovering to my further surprise that there were more letters etched across the back.

  “E vissero felici e contenti.”

  When I looked it up, my heart squeezed in my chest.

  It meant, “And they lived happily ever after.”

  In Italian.

  Chapter 18: Ben

  I wasn’t in the mood to stay in again. I barely recognized myself anymore.

  All week I’d felt like shit wasn’t going my way, and I wasn’t supposed to be that guy.

  I needed some stiff drinks to sort me out.

  Christophe texted me the address of some bar that he claimed made the best cocktails in town, luring me in with the assertion that a visit was essential to ensure I knew what kind of skilled execution to look for when it came time to hire bartenders for the club.

  My phone told me I was only a few blocks away so I figured I’d brave the cold and earn my drinks. But when the map disappeared and my dad’s face popped up, I was shocked.

  “Will,” I said. “How awkward of you to think of me on your honeymoon.” I maneuvered to the inside of the sidewalk and let the heavy set guy in front of me block the wind.

  “Just calling to check in.”

  “You shouldn’t have. Really.”

  “I know.”

  “You should be paying attention to your gorgeous new wife.”

  “I’ve paid two strapping young Canarians to pay attention to her for a change.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “All the more reason to get off the phone.”

  “I take your point, but I can see her out on the balcony, and as far as I can tell, the massage seems professional enough so far.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do,” he said. “After all, she’s a trustworthy woman.”

  I pursed my lips.

  “Unlike your mother apparently.”

  I scrunched my face “Ella told you what happened, huh?”

  “I could tell something was bothering her, and she finally spilled the beans.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said. “And I feel absolutely sick for you.”

  “I know. The whole situation is pretty shit.”

  “How’s she taking it?”

  “Like her selfish whims are as justified as ever. She even went so far as to suggest she did me a favor-”

  “I meant Carrie.”

  “Oh.”

  “Well?”

  “I think she’s afraid to get hurt again.”

  “She’s not speaking to you?”

  “Not technically.”

  “I wish I knew what to tell you, Ben.”

  “Yeah, it’s not exactly the most straightforward situation.”

  “Does she mean that much to you?”

  The large man in front of me kept going straight when it came time for me to turn the corner, causing a fresh blast of icy air to hit my face. “I’m afraid so.”

  “Then don’t give up.”

  “I appreciate the support, Will, but if she doesn’t want to see me or acknowledge what we have-”

  “Trust me. She’ll come around.”

  “How can you be so sure? In my experience, women can convince themselves of pretty much anything, and if she’s set on denying our chemistry-”

  “She’s not,” he said. “She’s bluffing.”

  I rolled my eyes. “This isn’t poker, Will.”

  “Might as well be. Have you shown her your hand?”

  I cringed at the thought of the ill-timed ornament. “I have. In fact, if she doesn’t know how I feel about her at this point, she’s not smart enough to be the woman for me anyway.”

  “Right.”

  “So you think she’s bluffing?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Just like I did with Ella.”

  “That wasn’t bluffing. That was idiotic denial.”

  “You’re right. Regardless, it sounds to me like that must be what she’s experiencing now.”

  “I hope you’re right, but I’m not going to beg-”

  “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re just as good a catch as she is.”

  “I could be wrong, though,” I said, pushing against the revolving door into the bar and then right back out again when I realized it was quieter outside. “What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

  “She does. Trust me. I watched her at the wedding,” he said. “She couldn’t be more into you if she was a pitcher at happy hour.”

  “A timely analogy,” I said. “Speaking of which, isn’t it a bit late for Ella to be getting a massage?”

  “Time is a constraint that has no place on a honeymoon, Ben.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Is your mother going to stop seeing this jackass?”

  “Apparently they’re in love.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “I know.”

  “What is her problem?”

  “No idea. I was hoping it was just some kind of cougar backlash on account of you marrying a younger woman, but she said it’s for real.”

  “I’m so disappointed,” he said. “Especially because I like to think she’d do the right thing by you.”

  “Yeah, I know, but hey, maybe he loves her back?”

  “And maybe chicken tastes like steak.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Will. Just enjoy your honeymoon. We’ll catch up when you get back.”

  “Really? I thought it might be charming of me to call and cuss your mother out from my honeymoon.”

  “It wouldn’t be.”

  “That was a joke,” he said. “Anyway, just wanted you to know I was thinking of you-”

  “Still weird.”

  “I’ll be in touch when I get home.”

  “Bring some of that island sun back for me, will you?”

  “I would, but it’s already all soaked into my skin.”

  “You’re a dick.”

  “And you’re gonna get the girl,” he said. “Mark my words.”

  I hung up and slipped my phone in my pocket, grateful for the vote of confidence despite the fact that my intention was to not think about Carrie all night and now she was at the front of my mind.

  I wondered what
she was doing, if she wanted to meet up for drinks…

  Of course, that would go against the whole point of the night, which was to give her some time. I hated to not call her right then when I was thinking about her. Despite our recent adventures, I actually despised game playing when it came to relationships normally.

  But in this case, it was way too late to stop playing games.

  Plus, if she came out, I’d probably just get drunk and “show her my cards” again, and I’d done enough of that. Unless she was ready to admit that we were great together, I didn’t really want to see her at all.

  It was too painful.

  Now that I knew what it was like to touch her, to kiss her, to feel the warmth between her legs, I couldn’t just stand back while she pretended that we didn’t fit perfectly, that we didn’t want the same things.

  No way. I wasn’t a goddamn masochist.

  I walked up to the bar and put a hand on Christophe’s shoulder. “Hey buddy.”

  “Ben!” he said. “It’s nice to see you back in your natural environment.”

  I rolled my eyes. “So what are we drinking?”

  He slid his drink towards me and lifted a hand toward the bartender. “That’s the best old fashioned you’ll ever have.”

  I raised it to my lips and took a sip. “That is good.”

  “Does it taste like forgetting about the woman we won’t mention tonight and having a good time?”

  I nodded. “Sure does.” I took another sip, letting the sweetness cut across my tongue as the whiskey warmed me from the inside out.

  “Here,” he said, laying the black and white cocktail menu in front of me. “You pick the next round.”

  I stared at the list of drinks typed out in fancy white font. “Each one sounds better than the next. How about a Hot Blooded? Then maybe a Greenich Sour?”

  “Fine by me,” he said. “After all, we’re celebrating the fact that you left the apartment on a Friday.”

  “I stayed in twice, Christophe. Let’s not blow things out of proportion.”

  “Whatever. I’m just happy to have my wingman back.”

  “You’re my wingman,” I said. “Get it right.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked down.

  “Who is it?” Christophe asked. “If it’s Ethan, tell him he’s a fucking-”