22. Abbie
22
ABBIE
I push open the back door, the cool night air hitting my face as I step outside. My head’s spinning, and it’s not from the two glasses of wine I had during my shift. Seth showed up tonight. Seth. With his stupidly handsome face and that sexy grin that makes my heart do flips. And then there’s Corey, who’s been texting me all day, his words making me blush even when I’m alone. What the devil is happening to me?
Pulling out my phone, I stare at the screen. Corey’s last message is still there, a simple Thinking about you. My thumbs hover over the keyboard, but I don’t know what to say. How do you respond to that when you’re still reliving that unbelievable night in your head? When you’re still thinking about the way he focused only on you, the way Seth’s hands felt on your skin, his mouth, the way they both?—
My phone vibrates in my hand, and Chandler's name flashes across the screen. My stomach drops. Two AM calls never bring good news, especially from exes.
I pause next to my car, keys dangling from my fingers. The parking lot is empty except for a few other employee vehicles, the streetlight casting long shadows across the pavement. My thumb hovers over the decline button, but that little voice in my head – the one that always wants to help – won't let me ignore it.
"Hello?"
"Abbie! Thank god." His words slur together.
"Chandler!" I'm exasperated, I'm tired, and he's clearly had a few too many. "What the hell do you want?"
"I just... I wanted to check on you," Chandler slurs. "See how you're doing."
I flop against my car door, pinching the bridge of my nose. "At two in the morning?"
"Yeah, well... I've been thinking. A lot." He pauses, hiccups. "Dad cut me off."
"What?"
"The money. Everything." His voice cracks. "Said I needed to grow up. Get my shit together."
I bite back a laugh. "Wow. That must be rough."
"I know you probably think I deserve it?—"
"I don't think anything, Chandler. It's not my business anymore."
"I was wrong, Abs. About everything. About you." He takes a shaky breath. "You weren't boring. You were just... adulting. And I was too stupid to see it."
"Look, Chandler?—"
"I miss you."
The words hang in the air like smoke. Three weeks ago, they might have meant something. Now they just make me think of silver-streaked hair and confident smiles.
"You're drunk," I say softly. "And I'm not the same person I was three weeks ago."
"I know. I saw your pictures. The bar thing..." He trails off. "You look happy."
"I am happy."
"I'm sorry. For how things ended. For being such an ass."
I close my eyes, remembering all the times I'd wanted to hear those words. Now they just feel... empty. "Thank you for saying that. But I need to go."
"Wait," Chandler's voice catches. "I found some of your stuff at my place. That psychology textbook you were always reading and your gray hoodie."
My stomach tightens. That textbook cost a fortune, and the hoodie... well, it's my favorite. "Oh."
"Maybe we could meet up? I'd like to return them." He clears his throat. "And apologize to you. Face to face."
I shift my weight, keys jingling in my hand. "I don't know, Chandler..."
"Come on, Abs. Just lunch. I promise I'll be sober." He attempts a laugh that falls flat. "The diner on Fifth? Tomorrow at noon?"
The guilt twists in my gut like a knife. What would Corey think about me meeting my ex? What would Seth think?
"I really don't think?—"
"What, is there someone else?" Chandler's voice takes on that edge I know too well, the one that always made me cave just to keep the peace.
"No!" The word shoots out too fast, too defensive. My heart slams against my ribs. "I mean... it's not... I just..."
"Then what's the problem?"
I close my eyes, counting to three. The old me would have made excuses, would have tried to spare his feelings. But I'm not that girl anymore.
Except apparently I am, because I hear myself say, "Fine. Tomorrow at noon. But just lunch, Chandler. That's it."
"That's all I'm asking for." The relief in his voice makes me want to throw my phone across the parking lot. "Thank you, Abbie."
I end the call and lean my forehead against my car window, the cool glass doing nothing to calm the storm in my head. What the hell did I just agree to?
My phone pings insistently as I slide into my car. Corey's name lights up the screen, making my chest tight.
Free for lunch tomorrow? Found this great little bistro downtown.
The phone feels heavy in my hands. My fingers shake as I type:
Sorry, having lunch with an old friend.
Three dots appear immediately.
Anyone I know?
No one important. Bile rises in my mouth as I type the words. I hit send before I can overthink it.
Have fun. Call me after?
Of course.
I toss my phone onto the passenger seat, but it feels like it's burning a hole through the leather. What am I doing? Meeting up with Chandler when I have... whatever this is... with Corey? And Seth? God, Seth. The way he stared at me tonight, like he wanted to consume me whole. And I had half a mind to let him.
The leather wheel squeaks as I twist it beneath my hands. I should tell Corey the truth. I should cancel on Chandler. I should do a lot of things that the old, responsible Abbie would do.
But the new me? The one who had a threesome with two gorgeous older men? The one who tends bar and makes her own decisions?
That Abbie is apparently an idiot who agrees to meet her ex-boyfriend for lunch while lying to her... whatever Corey is.
Another text comes through: Miss you.
The words make my stomach flip, even as guilt claws at my throat. I start the car without responding, because what can I say when I'm about to have lunch with my ex tomorrow?
My phone lights up again as I turn the key in the ignition.
Drive safe, beautiful. Text me when you're home.
The warmth within me battles with the cold knot of guilt inside. I tap out a quick Will do before tossing the phone back onto the passenger seat.
The streets are empty this time of night, streetlights casting orange pools across my windshield. My apartment's only fifteen minutes away, but each mile feels like an eternity with my thoughts racing. Corey's genuine concern makes the lie about lunch tomorrow feel even worse.
Such simple words shouldn't make my heart race like this. They shouldn't make me forget about everything else – about Seth's visit tonight, about Chandler's call, about tomorrow's lunch. But they do.
I pull into my parking spot and kill the engine. The silence feels heavy, broken only by the soft ping of my cooling engine. I unlock the phone screen, wanting to call him, to come clean about everything. Instead, I type:
Home safe. Thank you for thinking of me.
His response comes instantly: Always.