Chapter 12
It was Christmas and she was miserable. The days leading up to it had not been easy either.
And here she was trying to convince herself that it was due to him not really talking to her.
He had brought their daughter home, loaded with expensive gifts, tons of clothing that she would not be wearing for now, and a gold necklace with a cross-heart-shaped locket.
He told her that Zoe had insisted on having it. Like she did not know her own daughter.
He had taken her back that Sunday night and was polite and distant, reserving the warmth for Zoe.
Fortunately, the little girl had been too hyped and busy greeting her grandparents to notice the tension surrounding her parents.
He had carried Zoe upstairs to her room and sat on the edge of her sturdy pink and white bed, which should have had him looking ridiculous, but it seemed just right.
He had stayed with her, listening to her chatter before telling her goodnight.
It had not helped that Zoe had clung to him with tears in her eyes, demanding to know when she could be with him and his family again. He had lifted his head and sent Abigail an enquiring glance that had her committing to Zoe going back on the weekend.
She was losing her daughter. It shamed her that she had wanted to snap at the little girl to stop the incessant chatter about the Tyrells and how they treated her.
For the past few weekends leading up to Christmas, he had come to pick her up and made sure to call every night to talk. Sometimes Zoe would have him on the phone for more than half an hour, and he didn't seem to mind. They alternated nights, where he would read to her from a book of her choosing.
The bond between them was unmistakable and she should be happy. That's what she was telling herself or trying to. The relationship between father and daughter was great. But between mother and father, it was just one of cool reserve.
If he had planned on punishing her for that awful night she threw his declaration back in his face, he was doing an excellent job of it.
She filled her days with the frenetic pace at work. It was the winter season and the days leading up to Christmas was their busiest. Not to mention she had added more activities to the packed schedules they already had to deal with at the bookstores.
A winter festival, where several authors give of their times to come in and tour the various children's homes to bring cheers to needy kids.
A concert in one of the halls with a choir singing with the idea of bringing in more customers.
Hot chocolate and book readings. It was enough to drive a sane person around the bend, but not her.
Abigail loved the fast pace and thrived on it.
It also helped her to put a certain tall, dark and annoyingly handsome man from her thoughts. Until she goes home and had to face her daughter and was alone in her bedroom. Then thoughts of what they had done in his car, the words he had said to her would be back full force to torment her.
It did not help that she had seen a glossy photo of him with a stunning well-known actress at the gallery opening on Bowery Street.
So, he had moved on, she thought bitterly.
That meant nothing to her. It's not her concern.
The fact that she wanted to do physical damage to the bitch, was beside the point. She could live with it.
She could also be happy that her brother and Jillian were now openly seeing each other and looked so happy together.
Her brother and her best friend. It suits.
She had her career and her daughter, well most of the time.
Her little girl had a whole other set of family, and they seemed to dote on her. She would deal with that as well.
But right now, she could not think of anything other than she was finding it hard to breathe.
Allergies were kicking her ass. She had insisted on the family leaving her to go to grams place for the usual Christmas feast, which would end with the party she, Abigail had worked so hard to put together.
Her mother and Zoe had wanted to skip going and stay with her, but she would not hear of it.
"I'll just take my medicine and go to sleep. Really, I'll be fine." She had further assured them that if she felt better, she just might hop in her car and make the trip.
"You've been working too hard." Her mother chided.
"That could be a factor as well. Have fun." She kissed her daughter on the forehead, admiring the lovely pink sweater her gramma El had bought for her.
Now she was sitting in front of the fire in the living room, having her own version of a pity party.
Andre had also gone with Jillian, and she felt as if she was the only single person in the entire world.
She should try dating again. It had not gone down well in the past, but she blamed herself for that.
She had never been focused on having a relationship.
Half the time she had gone on dates, her mind wandered to what she should be setting up for the bookstores.
Or wondering if she had dealt with the advertising department on what to put out for the different season.
Several times, she had had to be nudged back to the conversation by the man she was having dinner with. It had become so bad, so frustrating that she had stopped dating altogether.
She need to get back out there. She was heading into her thirties.
Not that she minded being single, but now that Jillian was no longer there with her, she was starting to feel all alone.
Reaching for the box of Kleenex, she plucked out several and blew her nose vigorously.
She had taken a warm bath and her medicine and was starting to feel drowsy.
She was going to have the place all to herself for two days, unless she decided to take the drive up to the mountains to her grams place. At the rate she was feeling, she didn't think it was likely.
She would drink some soup and have a nap.
Her mother, bless her heart, had left some chicken roasting in the oven, in case she got her appetite back or the return of her tastebud.
But right now, she would settle for soup and a nap.
Pushing to her feet, she waited for the buzzing sound to stop and headed out the room.
She was about to head upstairs when the bell rang.
Snarling her impatience and wondering who would dare to visit someone's house on Christmas Day, she seriously considered ignoring the doorbell.
When it pealed again, she gathered her robe about her and made her careful way to open the door. Going on her toes, she checked the Judas hole and staggered back in shock.
Vanity had her passing a hand over her disheveled hair and remembering that she looked like something the cat dragged in through the mud. Pressing her lips together, she reminded herself that she had not invited him.
Unlocking the doors, she pulled them open and blocked his entrance.
"What do you want?"
His thick brows lifted as he did a quick survey of her ravaged face. And found himself wondering that she still managed to look beautiful.
"Why don't we start with a courteous greeting? I hear, how are you, is still popular."
"I'm not feeling courteous and Zoe is not here."
"Our daughter keeps me informed. She called while they were on their way to your grandmother. It's cold and you don't need to be letting out the heat." He walked in and closed the doors behind him.
"How about some tea? Point me to the kitchen."
"I don't need you looking after me." She followed behind him as he wound his way through the narrow passageway and found the kitchen.
"Too bad. You don't get to call the shots." He put the kettle on and rooted through the pantry to find some selections of tea.
"Ginger." He glanced over at her standing just inside the doorway.
"You look like you're ready to drop. Why don't you sit."
"Why don't you leave?"
His sigh was one of longsuffering.
"I thought about what you said to me several weeks ago and decided to put it behind us. And you might as well save your breath, I'm staying."
"What happened to the blonde?" She could have bitten off her tongue for saying it.
"What blonde?"
"The actress."
"Oh," His smile came and the dimple peeked out, reminding her so much of her daughter. The man was lethal. He had on a chunky black and white sweater over midnight black dress pants. With his thick dark hair charmingly tousled, he looked like a fallen angel.
"Saw that, did you?"
"It does not matter. Shouldn't you be with her?" She watched as he squeezed honey onto a tablespoon.
"She's in the Bahamas. Film location."
"Why aren't you with her?"
He gave her a curious look that had her shifting.
"For someone who claimed not to be interested, you're awfully nosy." The kettle squealed just then, and he turned to turn off the flame.
"Marcie and I are just friends, nothing more." He poured water over the pouch and stirred in honey.
He handed her the steaming cup of tea and nudged her onto a stool.
"Have you eaten?"
"How did you know I was here?"
"Zoe mentioned it."
"Don't you have anything better to do?"
"No." Shrugging out of his jacket, he draped it over the back of a stool and went to the wine cooler. Deciding on a bottle of Chianti, he plucked it out and searched for a glass.
"Why don't you make yourself right at home," she said sweetly.
"Thanks, I'm doing just that." He grinned as she glared at him.
"I smell food."
"Roast chicken in the warmer."
"Interested?"
She shook her head and sipped.
"No appetite. Allergies."
"Ah. It so happens I'm starving."
"Help yourself," she invited with a wave of one hand.
He set about making himself a plate. Pouring the wine, he brought them both over and sat across from her.
"Why are you not having lunch or brunch with your family?"
"We had the traditional Christmas breakfast this morning." He bit into the chicken and allowed the taste to settle on his tongue.