Chapter 9 Abby
Abby
The fact that I managed to get through emails and even take a client call without flinching or sprinting out of the lobby screaming is, honestly, impressive. But with every tiny win comes a massive slap to the face along with a punch to the stomach.
Victoria finally emerges from her office, where she’s been talking to Marcus for what felt like an hour. Lunch has come and gone and I manage to skip eating, chug three cups of coffee and successfully avoid Jonathan… or maybe he’s been avoiding me.
“Everyone, come out for a moment!” Victoria’s voice cuts through the office like a fire drill announcement.
Our office is laid out like a giant circle, with each private office curving around the central bullpen.
In the middle is our glass-walled break room, flanked by the front desk near the elevators, our two assistants’ desks and the copier-slash-fax machine combo that sounds like it’s dying a painful, dramatic death.
Victoria’s made sure the space isn’t just functional, it’s chic.
We’ve got plush velvet chairs for clients to lounge in while they wait.
The desks are all sleek white wood. The walls are painted a modern gray with black accents and pops of color show up in curated art and stylish décor pieces that sit around the circle like little personality sprinkles.
The lobby? It’s practically a hotel. Lavish seating, fresh flowers changed weekly by her personal assistant and a flat-screen TV running our ads on an endless loop.
Say what you want about Victoria, but the woman knows how to make an impression.
Every corner of this office practically screams, We’re successful and slightly better than you.
So, when she steps out of her office in her Louboutins and calls everyone away from their desks, I already know what’s coming. She doesn’t do unnecessary drama or spontaneous group bonding. If she’s summoning the troops, it means something’s up.
Marcus had already let the giant announcement slip earlier: the retreat.
“Okay,” Victoria says, stepping forward like she’s hosting an inspirational movement. “In partnership with Marcus, we’re taking everyone on a corporate retreat.”
Cue the low cheer. Some people even clap. Everyone’s way too eager to pretend this is a vacation, while all I want to do is spend the weekend under my comforter, eating cereal straight from the box and hiding from humanity.
“We leave Friday and will be traveling to Cedar Lakes,” she adds.
“I heard that place is amazing,” Tanya whispers to Elaine, like she’s narrating a travel blog.
Across the room, I spot Jonathan standing off to the side, half-listening, half… somewhere else in his head. He looks up just in time to catch me staring at him like some unblinking, emotionally wrecked raccoon. He nods and shoots me a half-smile. What is he thinking?
Victoria continues, “We’ll be there all weekend and the property has everything we need, meals, Wi-Fi and activities. That said, make sure to bring your laptops and any paperwork you might need in case a client calls.” Her tone sharpens. “This is still a work retreat, so if duty calls, you answer.”
And then, like a cherry on top of my mental breakdown sundae, Marcus steps in.
“I just want to say I’m excited to get to know you all more this weekend,” he says. “Thank you again for the warm hospitality.”
He starts to walk off, waving like a pageant winner.
But then he pauses, scanning the room like he’s looking for someone.
His eyes land on mine and there it is, that look.
His signature, heartbreakingly handsome smirk.
The one that used to make my knees buckle and my heart race like I was sixteen again.
Now? It makes my stomach twist so hard I feel like I might hurl all over the very nice office carpeting.
Because in that one second, everything comes rushing back; standing in my wedding dress, waiting for a man who never showed.
The hollow pit in my stomach. The pity in my bridesmaids’ eyes.
The sound of my mom crying louder than I was.
And here he is again, looking happy, successful, like he didn’t steal a piece of me that day.
I don’t even know how to explain what I’m feeling. It’s a combination of rage, sadness, maybe even a pathetic flash of longing. It’s like every emotion in the world is trying to hijack my body at once and none of them are playing nice.
“All right, everyone. Back to work,” Victoria says, clapping her hands like she’s herding cattle instead of unstable marketers.
I trail behind her as she walks toward her office, practically stepping on her stilettos. She senses me hovering and whips around with the grace of a Bond villain. “Yes, Abigail?” Her tone is formal. She’s definitely done with me today.
“I wanted to ask if I could skip the retreat,” I blurt out, hands trembling at my sides.
She tilts her head and squints down at me over her towering heels. “You want to skip the corporate retreat?”
I nod like a toddler bracing for time-out.
“Do you have a good reason?” she asks flatly.
I scramble for something. Anything. Grandparents’ wedding anniversary? Emergency gallbladder surgery? My dog has explosive diarrhea? I don’t even have a dog. Nothing lands.
So naturally, my brain jams and my mouth takes over. “I… promised my neighbor I’d watch her cat,” I say.
Her eyes narrow. “For the entire weekend?”
“She’s very codependent,” I add, immediately regretting everything I’ve ever said in my life.
We stare at each other.
I sigh. “Okay, no. I just… don’t think I can go.”
“Okay,” she says simply.
Relief washes over me for exactly two seconds.
“But if you don’t come,” she adds, stepping back into full boss babe mode, “I’ll assume you’re not serious about this company. Which means I can’t consider you for the promotion.”
In the span of a single breath, I suddenly want to puke in my chic leather flats.
This woman could teach a masterclass in psychological warfare while contouring her cheekbones.
I know exactly what she’s doing. Blackmailing me into going on this ridiculous retreat.
But the worst part? She’s not wrong. If I don’t go, it’ll look like I don’t care about the promotion or this company and that’s not just wrong, it’s insulting.
This promotion is everything. I’ve worked my ass off for it.
No way am I letting a little ex-fiancé catastrophe ruin that.
I square my shoulders, standing taller. Victoria eyes me like she’s witnessing the miraculous birth of a spine.
“You know what?” I say, my voice more confident now. Her eyebrows try to rise, but the Botox in her forehead doesn’t quite allow it. “You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll be happy to attend.”
She folds her arms and gives me a slow once-over. “Good to hear.” She turns back to her desk. “Don’t you have that Zoom call with Johnson & Johnson?”
Crap, I do!
“Yes, heading to the conference room now,” I say, spinning on my heel before she can zap me with another mind game.
As I near the glass-walled conference room, I spot Jonathan already inside, spinning slightly in one of the sleek chairs. Because clearly the universe has jokes today.
I open the door and step in. He turns toward me like he’s just been caught raiding a cookie jar.
“Peggy got sick,” he blurts. “She asked me to sit in.”
Right, so sitting next to my fake boyfriend while pretending my life isn’t in an absolute tailspin is exactly the vibe I was going for during this meeting.
“Okay,” I mutter, sliding into the seat next to him and logging in. I can feel his eyes on me as I type in my password. “What?” I snap without looking up.
He flinches. “Nothing.”
I glance sideways at him. “Then why are you staring at me like I’m a bomb about to go off?”
He hesitates, then quietly says, “Are you okay?”
“That’s what you’re worried about? Me?” I huff out.
He nods yes.
“Well,” I say, throwing my hands up, “my ex is suddenly back in my life, I’ve got a bogus boyfriend I can barely stand, a promotion that’s slipping through my fingers and oh let’s not forget the mandatory retreat where I get to pretend I’m madly in love with you.”
I slump back in my chair, exasperated. He runs a hand through his annoyingly flawless hair and the faintest whiff of his cologne hits me. He always smells like a rich country club completed with leather chairs, overpriced bourbon and just a touch of arrogance.
“Yeah. I get it,” he says. “That’s why I wanted to check in. And… I have a plan.”
“A plan?” I repeat, narrowing my eyes.
“Yes!” he exclaims, eyes lighting up like this is a group project he actually wants to lead. “Listen. We’ve got this. We can spin this whole situation to our advantage.”
I raise a brow. “Go on.”
“I ran into Marcus during lunch,” he starts. “And he seems like he misses you.”
I blink. “He does?”
“I’m serious. He looked like he was two seconds away from crying and handing you a handwritten apology,” he remarks.
My jaw drops just enough that Jonathan smirks.
“So,” he continues, “if we play this right, we’ll have him eating out of the palm of your hand. And then when the moment’s perfect… BAM!” He claps his hands together so loud I jump. “You crush his soul.”
I let out a slow breath. “Well, I’d love to make him feel at least one ounce of the emotional trainwreck he left me in.”
Jonathan grins. “Exactly.”
“You really think this’ll work?” I ask way too desperately.
“Totally,” he blurts.
I pause, studying him. “Okay… what’s in it for you?”
He shrugs, fortuitously. “It’ll look good to Victoria if she sees us getting along. Shows maturity. Growth. The last thing she wants is to promote someone no one can work with.”
“And?” I prod.
He sighs dramatically. “The intern. Claudia. Keeps asking me out. If I’m fake taken, she’ll back off.”
I tilt my head. “Wow.”
“What?” he snaps, raising his eyebrows.
“Didn’t think I’d live to see the day you turned down a young, eager intern.” I chuckle.
He adjusts his jacket and clears his throat. “I may be Vice President soon. Can’t afford to piss off the wrong intern or sleep with one who’ll make it her life’s mission to destroy me.”
“Aww. Look at you, responsible and scandal-averse. Who even are you?” I mock, straightening my posture.
“Remember Joaquin?” he asks.
“Oh. True,” I admit, instantly remembering poor, sweet Joaquin.
A few years ago, one of the interns developed a crush on him.
He was attractive, kind and unfortunately, way too easy to manipulate.
She’d stay late to help with his projects, all smiles and fake enthusiasm.
Then, when she made a move and he turned her down, politely, might I add, she lost it.
She went straight to Victoria and accused him of hitting on her.
There was an internal investigation. HR was involved.
But what the intern didn’t know was that Victoria has security cameras all over the office.
She pulled the footage from that night and it showed, clear as day, the intern threw herself at Joaquin.
He stepped back, looked horrified and left the room.
Victoria gave the intern a choice: drop it or deal with her lawyers.
The intern got a glowing recommendation, a job at an agency in Chicago and had to sign what I’m sure was a terrifying stack of legal paperwork.
I don’t know all the details, but I do know that despite being in the clear, Joaquin was still asked to leave.
Victoria helped him land somewhere else, another agency in the city.
As much as she believed him and we all did, she wasn’t about to let a scandal tie itself to her company’s name. It was a smart business move. Cold, but smart.
So yeah, I get what Jonathan means. Claudia’s… unpredictable. She’s the kind of intern who always wants to grab drinks after work and has no concept of personal space. I wouldn’t put it past her to stir up rumors just for fun.
I pause for a moment, fingers fidgeting with the corner of my notepad. As much as I hate to admit it, it is nice not going through this whole mess completely alone.
I glance over at him. “Thanks,” I say quietly.
A smile creeps across his face. “You’re welcome, AJ.” He throws in a wink because apparently his charm comes with a built-in eye spasm.
Just then, the Zoom call connects and despite the spectacle our lives have become, we actually nail the meeting with Johnson & Johnson.
Maybe we do make a good team. Platonically, of course.