Chapter 29 Abby
Abby
Idon’t even wait for the bus to come to a full stop.
The second it slows, I’m up, grabbing my bag and making a break for the parking garage.
Most of my coworkers are heading upstairs to check emails or pretend they’re being productive.
Not me. I can access my inbox from home and right now, I need distance.
From the whispers, the side-eyes, the pitying head shakes.
And most of all, from Jonathan’s stupid face.
I’m sure he went upstairs like the good little overachiever he is, which means I’m safe, at least for now. I wish he’d just disappear so I could have one normal workday without emotional whiplash.
When I screw up, I really do it big time. Faked a relationship with a coworker, but worse, that coworker. The one who’s made a sport out of infuriating me for years and I fell for him anyway. Stellar decision-making, Abby. Gold star.
It’s fine though. Totally fine. The feelings weren’t that deep. I can move past them like I move past any other fleeting emotion. That’s what I’m telling myself as I yank open my car door and hurl my luggage into the backseat like it’s aimed right for Jonathan’s evenly distributed jaw muscles.
“Hey.”
I hear a voice behind me. I turn around, half-hoping it’s Jonathan being dumb enough to chase after me. It’s not. It’s Marcus.
I shut my back door. “Hey,” I mutter, sweeping my hair out of my face as I open the driver’s side.
Marcus walks toward me, hands clasped like he’s about to confess something. “Is there any way we could have dinner tonight? Just talk?” he asks, his voice carefully walking a tightrope.
I press my fingers to my temple. Everything feels too fast, too much. My brain is still tangled in last night and now this?
Before I can respond, he cuts in. “You have to eat, right? I know you don’t have food in your fridge. And, let’s be honest, last time you tried to cook, you almost burned our apartment down.”
He laughs lightly and despite everything, my frown dissipates.
He is right. I nearly took out the roof.
“Your apartment,” I correct with a small laugh.
He shrugs. “Technicalities. Point is, you shouldn’t be cooking in anyone’s apartment,” he says, grinning.
I glance down at the scuffed black concrete, like it might give me an answer. But there is no answer, no cosmic sign. It’s just me, standing here, realizing I can do whatever I want. Maybe being with Marcus is what’s meant to be.
I look up and meet his eyes. “Sure. I’d love to have dinner with you,” I say, chipper.
His smile stretches wide, it’s genuine and bright. He steps closer and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. It’s not sexual or anything like that, it’s comforting. Even after everything Marcus did, I still feel safe with him. That’s got to count for something.
He pulls back. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”
I nod. “Okay.”
Then I slide into my car and drive off, the air clumps around me with questions I’m not ready to answer.
Part of me wants to call Jonathan and ask if this is okay but the thought vanishes as quickly as it comes.
He made it clear to Manny that he doesn’t love me and when I confronted him, he threw out some lame excuse about Manny liking me as the reason he said those things.
Like that makes it any better. I don’t trust a word he says.
He had the chance to fight for me. To say something more, anything more. But instead, he just waited and put the decision on me. Like I was supposed to say the exact right thing, even though I had no clue what that was. Moreover when I couldn’t? He walked away.
When I get home, I immediately start unpacking. I’m one of those people. If I don’t do it the second I walk in, the suitcase will sit in the corner for a week, maybe two.
The second I’m inside, the scent of lavender hits me. I’ve got it scattered all over the living room between candles, oil diffusers, dried bundles. It’s calming. The exact opposite of the weekend I just survived.
I grab a water from the fridge, guzzle it like I’ve been stranded in the desert, then take a deep breath in and out.
I could go work out to burn off the anxiety and frustration, but the couch is calling.
Specifically, the Love Island marathon queued up on my TV.
I sink into the cushions and let the British drama lull me into a nap I didn’t know I needed.
Thankfully, my phone rings and wakes me before I sleep straight through my dinner date with Marcus. I grab my phone and see it’s Lila. I stare at the screen for a second, not ready to unpack the weekend from hell and send her to voicemail. Then I shoot her a text: Will call you later.
She replies with a smiley face and a thumbs-up emoji.
Classic Lila, always cheery, always sunshine.
I miss her. I can’t wait until she comes back next week to pack up her place.
I already took the time off to help her move back to California and explore the new chapter of her life.
A real vacation. One I desperately need.
It’s crazy to think I already need a vacation to recover from my work retreat vacation.
I decide I’ve slept enough and roll off the couch straight into the shower. The hot water helps, but the minute I step out, I’m stuck staring into my closet like it holds the answer to a question I haven’t figured out how to ask.
Is this a date? Or just catching up? Marcus clearly wants to get back together and a part of me, traitorous as it is, missed him when he kissed me. However, there’s the rational voice in my head, screaming over the butterflies: He left you at the altar, remember?
Still, I land on a black corset dress that hits just above the knee.
Stylish, fun and not too sexy, but not boring either.
I keep my makeup natural appearing, with a small, smoky eye that says I tried.
Then I straighten my hair. Marcus always said he loved it straight.
Normally I let my soft waves do their thing, tamed just enough to look intentional yet tonight I’ll wear it the way he likes it. Maybe that says more than I want it to.
As I finish getting ready, nerves flutter through my stomach. Am I really doing this?
Before I can overthink it to death, my buzzer goes off. It’s Marcus.
“I’m here,” he says through the speaker.
“Okay, I’ll buzz you in,” I say, pressing the button.
I hold it down for a second longer than necessary like I’m already regretting this.
He knocks on my door seconds later, holding a bouquet of my favorite flowers, pink tulips.
“Hi,” he says with a mushy smile, leaning in to kiss my cheek as I open the door. He hands me the flowers, then steps back to look me over.
“Wow,” he says, his face lighting up like he just got everything he wanted for his birthday.
“Thank you,” I reply, cheeks already warming. “And thank you for the flowers.” I bring them to my nose, inhaling their sweet, herbal scent, before heading to look under the sink for a vase.
I can feel Marcus’s eyes on me as I fill it with water.
“You look gorgeous,” he says.
I nod, slipping the tulips into the vase and adjusting the stems until they stand just right. “They’re beautiful,” I say quietly.
“You’re beautiful,” he replies, stepping closer and taking my hand. He pulls me toward him, his lips brushing against mine in a delicate, lingering kiss.
He still smells like cedar and expensive cologne, it’s memories and money wrapped into one. When he pulls back, he’s grinning. I can feel the blush rising in my cheeks.
It’s a nice kiss sure, yet doesn’t spark anything. Not like him… like Jonathan.
“Let’s go to dinner,” Marcus says, still holding my hand.
I smile and let him lead me out the door as we head downstairs. Parked out front is his car. It’s the same sleek Jaguar; two-door, convertible coupe but this one’s newer, glossier and in a different color than the one from years ago.
“New car?” I ask, raising a brow.
He nods proudly. “Yeah. Just got it a few months ago. Do you like it?”
I give it a once-over, impressed. “Like it?” I laugh. “It’s stunning.”
I reach for the door handle and before I can touch the shiny exterior, Marcus steps in to open it for me. He’s still the gentleman. Still the charmer.
It’s nice not feeling tense around him. With Jonathan, my shoulders were always tight and pressure built behind my molars like I was waiting for the next fight or flirt or jab.
That edge isn’t here now. It’s replaced by something unsettling deep in my stomach, like the world’s tilted slightly off-axis.
The drive is smooth. We talk easily about his family, my family. I tell him about Lila.
“I’m heading to California next week,” I say. “Spending a week with her to help her move in.”
He grins. “That’s convenient timing. I have business out there. I could fly you out with me. On the jet. We could go together.”
My eyebrows lift. “You mean… me and you and Lila?”
He hesitates, then smiles again. “Well… yeah.”
“That’s sweet of you,” I say, carefully. “But I haven’t told Lila about any of this.” I pause, swallowing hard. “Not Jonathan. Not… you.”
He glances at me, then nods slowly. “I get it,” he says. “Not sure how the best friend’s gonna feel about me being back in your life.”
Back in my life? The way he says it, it feels like it’s already decided. Like it’s fact. Is it?
“I mean… yes. I guess,” I admit, unsure if I even believe myself.
“Well, she’ll just have to get over it,” he says with a shrug. “She’s moving on with her life. Starting fresh in California. And you have to do what’s best for you.”
The arrogance in his tone catches me off guard. I shoot him a look. “Lila was there for me when you left me,” I snap. “And getting back together with the guy who broke my heart, is that really what’s best for me?”
Nothing but silence. Not his… mine. A prickling, stifling quiet that clings to the air inside his glossy, overconfident car.