Chapter 27 Abby
Abby
Islapped Jonathan Slack.
Not in a fun, flirty way. Not even a dramatic soap opera-style slap where my hair blew perfectly in the wind and I walked off in heels like I’d rehearsed it. Nope. I straight-up slapped him, hard enough that my palm still stings and my wrist kind of aches from the follow-through.
I’ve never slapped anyone in my life. The movies make it seem effortless, like a flick of the wrist and boom, instant power and vindication. But no one tells you your hand might throb after. Or that your breathing will turn erratic like your body’s trying to launch itself into space.
And I didn’t even stick around to see the aftermath. I ran off the stage like I was the one wronged, leaving Jonathan standing there, stunned, with fifty pairs of eyes watching.
Now I’m sitting on a bench outside the main lodge, heart still racing, trying to pull myself together and pretend like I didn’t just slap my fake boyfriend in front of the entire company. That’s when I hear footsteps stomping in my direction. Of freaking course it’s Jonathan.
“What do you want?” I snap without even turning around.
He comes to a stop beside me, hand pressed to his cheek. “What the hell was that?” he demands. “A slap? Really?”
I look up at him, my jaw tense. “Maybe that was a little dramatic,” I admit. “But I couldn’t stand your smug little smirk for one more second.”
He blinks, caught off guard. “Well, you sure took care of that, didn’t you?” A heavy silence falls. Then he starts again. “This was your stupid idea,” he adds. “All of this. I didn’t have to play fake boyfriend. But I did it so you could make Marcus jealous. And it worked. Clearly.”
“Clearly? What does that mean?” I shoot back, standing up and stepping toward him until we’re face to face.
“Oh, you didn’t think anyone saw your little make-out session, huh?” His voice is honed. “Well, I did.”
My breathing freezes. I didn’t know anyone was watching, let alone Jonathan.
“So that’s why you’ve been acting like a total jerk tonight?” I ask, my voice still simmering.
He shrugs, like this whole thing doesn’t matter, like I didn’t just rip myself open and fall into his bed last night.
“I don’t care,” he says. “But it’s not a good look, AJ.
Sleeping with me and then kissing your ex the next morning?
” He flashes a smirk. That same stupid smirk I was trying to slap off earlier.
“Didn’t take you for a trashy girl but here we are. ”
I want to slap him harder now or at the very least, kick his kneecap out of spite. But I don’t. I clench my fists and hold my ground.
“Did you see the part where I pushed him away from me?” I say through gritted teeth.
Jonathan lifts a brow and for a second, his composure slips.
“I mean, yeah we kissed. I was caught off guard. But then I stopped it,” I add, my voice shaking now; not from guilt, but from fury that he won’t even give me the benefit of the doubt.
His mouth opens, then shuts again. He rubs his cheek like he suddenly remembers I just smacked him and I notice the mark still there, faint but visible.
“Oh, so you left. Was that to call Manny again? Tell him how much you’re faking it with me?” I snap again.
Jonathan blinks. “Huh?”
“I heard your conversation with him,” I say, arms crossed now, heart pounding. “I’m nothing to you, right? So all that crap about falling in love with me, that was just for show?”
His face shifts into an empathetic yet confused look. “I didn’t know you heard that call,” he says slowly. “Is that why you left this morning without saying anything?”
I nod. “Yeah. I ran into Marcus and when he kissed me, I’ll admit I kissed him back. But only because my head was spinning. I was confused. I was hurt.” I clutch my forehead like I can squeeze out the whiplash of emotions.
Jonathan exhales. “I only said those things to Manny because… he likes you. And I didn’t want to tell him how I really felt.”
I pause, blinking. “Manny likes me?”
“Yes. But so do I,” he says, then winces. “Or… did. I don’t know anymore.”
“According to you last night, you loved me,” I say, keeping my arms folded, like they might hold me together and stop me from falling apart all over the concrete.
He sits down on the bench, sighs and buries his face in his hands. “I should’ve never offered to be your fake boyfriend,” he stammers out.
The words land like a knife. They cut into me deep and my chest squeezes. God, it actually hurts. Because I wasn’t faking any of it. I wasn’t confused. I was falling for Jonathan. No. Scratch that. I fell.
“You kissed Marcus back,” Jonathan continues, the words landing like an accusation he’s been holding in for hours. “That means some part of you wanted it. Enjoyed it. That was the whole point of this entire lie, wasn’t it?” He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.
I want to argue, to say he’s wrong, but I can’t.
Because if you’d asked me three days ago, did I want Marcus pining after me, kissing me, begging for another chance?
I would’ve screamed yes from every rooftop in Manhattan.
But now? Now I’ve been with Jonathan. Now everything feels upside down.
And I don’t know what the hell I want anymore.
I don’t say a word. Silence settles thick in the air before he speaks again.
Jonathan steps closer, his voice shallow as he takes my arms in his hands, his thumbs stroking tiny, deliberate circles into my skin. “Tell me you want me.”
I feel the tears building and then they’re spilling down my cheeks. “I…” My voice cracks. “I don’t know what I want.” The truth tastes bitter in my mouth.
Jonathan looks at me for a long beat. His eyes flick to my lips, then back to my tear-streaked face like he’s memorizing it, committing it to some private gallery of what-could-have-beens. His chest rises and falls, then he gives my arms one last gentle squeeze.
“That’s what I thought,” he exasperates out. He drops his hands and lowers his gaze, like even looking at me now hurts. He takes a small step back. “Whatever this is… it’s over.” He protests and turns, walking back inside the building.
I wipe my eyes and chase after him. “Jonathan!”
I push open the door and immediately freeze.
He’s standing there in the middle of the room, completely still, facing a wall of stunned faces, our co-workers.
Tanya, Elaine, Manny, Victoria, Marcus. All of them wear the same look, pure disbelief.
Except Manny and Victoria. They look furious.
And Marcus? He’s got a little smirk on his face, braced with a touch of sadness, but mostly satisfaction. Like he’s just won.
Jonathan glances over his shoulder at me, then down at his hands still holding the microphones from our little karaoke war.
That’s when I realize. They heard us. All of it.
Jonathan exhales hard and shakes his head, his disappointment radiating off him in waves. He turns back to the group and says, loud and clear, “I’m sorry, everyone. Abby and I were never a real couple.” He pauses, then lets the microphones fall to his sides in defeat.
I start to move toward him, but I’m too late. He’s already walking away.
Manny rushes after him, grabbing his arm.
They argue in hushed tones, but I can see Manny’s expression.
He’s angry and filled with frustration. His arms flail as he gestures toward me, toward the crowd, toward Jonathan’s chest. Then Manny shoves him.
Just once, but it’s enough to make everyone stop breathing.
“Fuck you,” Manny snaps, booming enough for the whole room to hear. He storms off, leaving Jonathan standing there, alone, with his head bowed like the weight of it all just finally crushed him.
I want to go after Jonathan. I want to scream, to cry, to ask him to take it all back.
But I don’t. Because I know I shouldn’t.
There’s nothing I can say to fix this. I don’t even trust that he meant what he said to me.
I don’t trust that I didn’t want Marcus to kiss me.
I don’t trust relationships at all, to be honest. Not anymore.
So instead, I turn to leave. That’s when Marcus grabs my hand, his fingers close around mine like he’s been waiting for this moment.
“You okay?” he asks.
I shrug. “Define okay.”
He gives me a half-smile. “I don’t care that you were faking it with Jonathan.”
Of course he doesn’t.
“I came here for you before I even knew you were with anyone,” he continues. “And I’m still here now.”
Of course he is. Marcus always knows what to say, what I want to hear. That’s his superpower. He knows me. Maybe even better than Jonathan ever could.
I crack the smallest smile, my face still stiff from everything that just imploded.
“Grab your stuff from the cabin,” Marcus says. “Come stay with me.”
I raise an eyebrow, unsure.
“Not for that,” he adds quickly. “I just… I don’t think you should be alone tonight.”
He’s probably right. Even if everything inside me feels wrong.
I turn to Victoria.
“I’m sorry, Victoria,” I say quietly as Marcus lets go of my hand.
Her arms are crossed, her face unreadable. “Just get some rest, Abigail,” she replies. “We’ll talk on Tuesday.”
Oof. That doesn’t feel like a conversation I’ll enjoy. She throws Marcus a pointed look before walking off, her heels clicking with purpose.
Marcus exhales beside me. “I never told her about us,” he admits. “She’s mad at both of us. Don’t worry.”
Oh, I’m worried. It’s comforting, I guess, to know I’m not the only one in the doghouse. But the difference is, Marcus is her boss. He can’t be fired. Me? I very much can.