Chapter 19 Abby
Abby
When I was thirteen, my parents divorced.
My dad remarried, started over, had new kids.
And honestly? I can’t blame him. My mother isn’t the easiest person to deal with.
Still, losing that closeness with him was one of the hardest parts of growing up.
We try to keep in touch now, but it’s mostly sporadic calls and the occasional FaceTime.
The last time I saw him was on my wedding day.
He was going to walk me down the aisle; until Marcus ruined that, too.
I haven’t seen him since. I’d planned to visit him last Christmas, then like always, work got hectic and I canceled.
As I step out of the bedroom, the sight of the couch brings up the memory of last night.
I almost kissed Jonathan, and not out of obligation.
Not to make a show. Not even to stab Marcus in the soul with a well-timed display of passion.
No! I nearly kissed Jonathan Slack because I wanted to.
Because I was lost in the moment and something about the way he looked at me made me want to dive straight in, no overthinking.
But then his phone rang just in the nick of time.
Thank God it rang. Because whatever this is with Jonathan, this faux relationship, this real attraction, this confusing in-between; it’s already complicated enough.
That kiss would’ve made it messier. Sure, it would’ve been amazing.
He would’ve been amazing. But then what?
More kissing? More… everything? That’s exactly what I don’t need right now in the middle of this professional, emotional, fake-dating nightmare I’ve created for myself.
Just then, as my brain is about to spiral even more, Jonathan steps out of the bathroom, shirtless, towel slung over his shoulder. “Oh hey,” he says casually, hand raised.
“Good morning,” I say with a tight-lipped smile that probably doesn’t hide the way my eyes just dipped below his neck. “Want coffee?” I ask, walking toward the Keurig before I start saying things like want abs with that too?
“Sure, thanks,” he says, following me to the kitchen.
I pop a K-cup into the machine, hit brew and grab another mug from the cabinet. I turn around and set it on the counter, pretending my brain isn’t still stuck in the mental replay of last night’s almost-kiss.
“AJ, about last night…” he starts, his voice a little unsure.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” I say quickly, waving my hand like I’m shooing away the memory itself.
“Oh. Yeah. Okay,” he stumbles.
“It was silly,” I add, trying to keep it breezy. “And honestly, it would just make this whole thing messier.”
He pauses, eyes locking on mine like he can tell I’m full of it. Like he knows I wanted that kiss last night. And… yeah, he’d be correct.
“You’re right,” he says, exhaling a breath that sounds way too heavy to match the casual tone we’re both pretending to have.
The Keurig beeps, rescuing me. I turn, grab the first cup and slide it across the counter toward him.
As I hand him the sugar dispenser, our fingers graze and just like that, the air sends some mystic, electric pulse through my body.
The same what are we doing vibe. He doesn’t look at me.
He looks at my hands. Then my fingers. Then finally, my eyes.
“It would’ve been an amazing kiss, though,” he says with a quiet chuckle and that annoyingly charming smile. He pours sugar into his cup and adds, “Not like we don’t already know what that feels like.”
I laugh despite myself, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear to do something with my hands.
“I guess that’s true,” I admit. “Our kisses have been…” I trail off.
“What?” he asks, too eagerly.
I shrug and pop a fresh K-cup into the machine.
“What?” he asks again, like he needs the answer more than the caffeine.
“They’ve been intense,” I say.
He smiles and takes a sip of coffee.
“But probably because we hate each other,” I add, only half-joking.
He doesn’t laugh. Just lifts the cup again, eyes holding mine over the rim.
“I’ve never hated you, AJ. Trust me. I couldn’t even if I tried.” His voice is deeper now.
It hits something in my chest I’m not ready to name.
I turn as the machine beeps again, grabbing my mug like it’s a life raft.
I open the fridge, pour in some creamer, then add sugar at the counter.
I blow on the surface, trying to cool both the coffee and the mood.
When I glance up, Jonathan is staring at me over the edge of his mug.
“I don’t hate you either.” I say with a smile.
He winks. “Good to know,” he adds, standing now and grabbing his mug. “Did you pack a bag for the hike?”
I’m taken aback, going from talking about kissing to suddenly talking about hiking.
“Um. Yes. I am bringing a small drawstring bag I have.” I blink myself back into reality.
“Okay, good.” He nods. “I’m also bringing a small backpack with extra waters and protein bars I grabbed from the front desk,” he admits.
I raise an eyebrow. “Wow. Someone came prepared.”
“Always,” he says as he shrugs his very toned, very sexy, bare shoulders while flashing a grin that, unfortunately, makes me want to kiss him. Or run away. Possibly both. It’s a toss-up.
* * *
The retreat sends us on a scenic trail hike, led by two overly enthusiastic guides and a pull cart stocked with snacks, water bottles and picnic blankets for a breakfast setup once we reach the top.
As we hike, Victoria and Marcus take turns sharing their vision for the company.
At one point, we pause for a break and Victoria has us split into small groups to brainstorm one idea that could contribute to this “new era” of the company.
Naturally, I end up in a group with Jonathan, Tanya, Elaine, Stan and a very hungover Manny, who can barely keep up with the hike, let alone form a coherent thought about company strategy.
Still, we pass around some protein bars and manage to come up with a solid idea: highlighting our team’s diverse perspectives in future marketing campaigns.
We also pitch the concept of collaborating with other firms, doubling up on creative teams to offer clients broader, bolder ideas.
Two marketing firms are better than one, right?
Victoria and Marcus seem genuinely impressed with our suggestions. Some of the other groups throw out clever pitches too. One of the groups even suggests installing a vending machine stocked with healthy snacks, which, honestly? I love.
After the break of team bonding as they put it, we continue the hike. Marcus somehow manages to sneak up beside me.
“This is beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, trying way too hard to keep his tone breezy.
Startled, I blink and turn slightly toward him. “Yes. It is,” I say, leveling my breath as I keep climbing.
Never one to pass up a strategic opportunity, I decide now’s the perfect time to take off my jacket, revealing both my fitted sports bra and the very flattering way my leggings hug my hips.
I don’t work out to show off, but I’m also not blind.
I know what I look like in this outfit and I’m proud of it.
Marcus clears his throat as I roll up my jacket and stuff it into my bag.
“It’s getting hotter the higher up we climb,” I say.
Lie. It’s definitely cooler as we gain elevation.
He takes a second to take in my body, then nods, tugging at his shirt. He keeps pace beside me, clearly not ready to let the moment pass.
“Remember that time in Greece?” he asks. “When we got so lost we just gave up and stayed in that random cottage?”
Okay… what is this about? That trip was one of the best vacations I’ve ever taken and not just because of the scenery. It was also the most thrilling week of sex I’ve ever had. The kind of wild, breathless, are-we-seriously-this-in-sync kind of sex you never really forget.
I slide my sunglasses up and look him straight in the eyes, even though his are still hidden behind his Ray-Bans. A few seconds pass. Then he lifts them too, revealing that familiar blue-green stare and a half-smile that still knows how to punch me right in the gut.
“Umm. You know I do,” I say, matching his smirk.
Marcus lets his gaze linger, not on my eyes, but slowly scanning down to my athletic bra and leggings before meeting my eyes again.
Another smirk. Then we both slide our sunglasses back into place like we haven’t just had an entire unspoken conversation.
He steps a little closer and breathes in like he’s about to say something.
“What’s going on?” Jonathan suddenly steps up and asks as he wedges himself between me and Marcus, placing a hand firmly on my waist. His eyes dip for half a second. “Wow,” he mutters. “You look hot.”
Then, without missing a beat, he turns to Marcus. “Does your Angel look this good in a Victoria’s Secret bra?” He grins. “I bet not.”
Marcus drops his gaze. “We’re not dating anymore,” he says.
Neither of us responds right away.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” I finally offer.
“Tough break,” Jonathan adds, clapping Marcus on the shoulder. “But hey,” he continues, his voice obnoxiously chipper, “there are more models out there, right?”
Marcus just nods.
“Let’s go, babe,” Jonathan says, leaning into the word like he’s announcing it on a red carpet. He wraps his arm tighter around me. “I’ve got a view I want you to see.”
As we walk away, I glance over my shoulder. Marcus is still watching, his expression somber as Jonathan leads me toward a more secluded hilltop.
Once we’re there, Jonathan slides off his sunglasses and lets out a low whistle. “First of all… damn, girl.” His gaze trails from head to toe like he’s seeing me for the first time.
I laugh and nudge him.
“What did Marcus say to you?” he asks, a little too casually.
“Nothing much,” I reply. “Just bringing up old memories.”
Jonathan pauses. “Did it work?”
“Did what work?” I ask, confused.
He lifts an eyebrow. “Are you falling for him?”
I laugh and shove at his chest, though he barely budges.
“No. Definitely not.” I hesitate. “I mean… it’s nice seeing him squirm. Or at least, I think that’s what’s happening.”
“Oh, it’s happening,” Jonathan says confidently, sinking onto a flat rock and tugging me down beside him. Then his tone becomes softer and he asks, “Are you happy?”
I turn toward the view, the rolling green hills, fluffy clouds, a horizon that feels endless; then back to him.
“Yeah,” I say, smiling. “Still can’t believe I’m doing this. But… I’m happy.”
“What about you? Are you happy?” I ask back while leaning into his arm.
He looks out over the view again, then back at me. His answer is a leisurely nod before he wraps an arm around my shoulders. He’s warm and solid in that quiet, comforting way.
“I still can’t believe the last few days,” he says, pulling his arm back to his side but keeping close. “I’m seeing this side of you I didn’t even know existed.”
I blush. “I feel the same,” I admit. “We’re not biting each other’s heads off and we both like the same TV shows.”
He laughs. “Bare minimum for soulmates, right?”
I stare at his face and see that usual hard-edged jawline of his ease.
“Can I ask you something?” I grin.
“Oh boy. Here it comes,” he says, mock-bracing himself.
I tuck my hair behind my ear, a little shy. “Why don’t I ever see you dating anyone?”
He pauses, then picks up a small rock and tosses it off the edge of the hill.
“I guess most women don’t want to date me,” he says with a shrug.
“That is such a cop-out,” I respond, nearly laughing.
He lifts a brow, shifting his body toward me. “How?”
“Because I’m sure there are plenty of women who’ve wanted to date you,” I say.
He gives a reluctant chin drop. “Okay, you’re probably right.” He picks up another rock and tosses it again. “If I’m being honest… I haven’t met anyone worth dating.”
I tilt my head. “And what qualifies as worth dating in Jonathan Slack’s eyes?” I ask, throwing air quotes around the words.
He brushes his fingers through the sand, trailing them in lazy circles, then tosses another rock. “I don’t really know,” he mumbles. “Maybe… someone who’d serenade me with a love song like…” He pauses, like he’s actually thinking of one. “Like ‘Hopelessly Devoted to You.’”
I blink. “The song from Grease?”
He nods. “Yeah. Olivia Newton-John.”
I narrow my eyes, trying to decide if he’s joking, but he looks completely serious.
“It sounds corny, but you can hear it in her voice,” he adds.
“Hear what?” I reluctantly ask.
“The love she has,” he says simply, staring down at the ground like he wishes he could disappear into it. “Someone who could feel like that about me… that’s the kind of woman I’d want.”
I don’t know what kind of response I expected, still it wasn’t that.
I mildly nod, reaching down to pick up a rock of my own and tossing it over the edge.
“But how can someone love you if you won’t let them in?” I ask, more to the wind than to him.
He lets out a laugh. “Fair point,” he says. “Maybe I won’t ever be in love then.”
“You’ve never been in love?” I ask, now turning, facing him completely.
“Nope.” The answer is fast and firm. No explanation offered, just fact.
It makes sense to me, suddenly. Why he’s guarded. Why his jokes sometimes hide real things. Why he always looks a little surprised when I’m kind to him.
“Wow,” I say, not hiding my surprise. “That actually explains… a lot.”
“Right?” he says, like he already knows.
He looks at me then, really looks at me and for a moment, I forget how to blink. There’s something so open in his face, so unguarded, it tugs at something deep in my chest.
I reach out and take his hand, threading my fingers through his.
His smile is easy and immediate and he starts to lean in and surprisingly to my brain, so do I.
I can’t help it. I’m drawn in by his honesty; it’s powerful.
His palm is sandy and cool against mine, grounding me as everything else starts to blur.
Manny suddenly appears and plops down, breaking the space… and our fingers.
“My favorite couple,” he announces with a wink in my direction.
I shoot Jonathan a look. “He knows,” I whisper.
Manny chuckles and throws an arm around Jonathan’s shoulder. “Of course I know. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”
Jonathan stiffens. “I did…” he starts, then falters. “I did tell him,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s searching for the right words. “Because Manny…”
Before he can finish, Victoria’s voice cuts through the trees. “Okay, everyone! Let’s keep moving!”
Manny taps Jonathan’s arm and they both hop up. Jonathan turns to me, offering his hand. I take it, letting him pull me to my feet and he mouths, I’m sorry.
I shrug and offer a tiny smile. It’s fine, I mouth back, because it is. Of course he told his best friend the truth. We aren’t a real couple. And it’s just wild that I keep having to remind myself of that.