“UH, MARCUS?”
Absolutely. Keep your calendar clear for tomorrow night. Talk to you later.
“Marcus.”
Maybe I’ve misread things. Maybe she didn’t freak out? Maybe she just doesn’t like to cuddle after sex?
“Earth to Marcus...”
Hell, no, that’s not it. Abby is a cuddler, through and through. She likes to cuddle under just about any circumstances.
“What the fuck is going on with you lately?”
I close my laptop and try to refocus on the Brainway weekly partners’ meeting. Paul looks concerned, but Jessica is genuinely pissed at me—she has been all week, so that’s no surprise. They are sitting opposite me at the board table, and I give myself a shake and fix my attention back on the agenda displayed on the oversize TV on the front wall of the room.
“Sorry,” I mutter. I’m conscious now that they have been trying to get my attention, but my mind really has been elsewhere for the last ten minutes, and God only knows what they’ve discussed while I stared blankly at my laptop. Jess is sharp—she probably took advantage of my lack of focus and snuck through that new sales bonus program we’ve been squabbling over.
“You should be sorry,” she says impatiently. “We have fifteen agenda items to discuss and thirty minutes left to do it and you’ve been jerking your team around all week because of whatever-the-fuck-couldn’t-wait-the-other-day.”
I scrub my hand over my cheek.
“I have a lot of things on my plate at the moment, Jess. But seriously—I’m really sorry. I’ll do better.”
“What things?” Jess asks, her tone softening just a little.
“It’s personal stuff. Nothing to worry about.”
Jess closes her laptop and stands. Paul and I stare at her, and she gives us an impatient look and points to our laptops.
“Pack it up, boys. We’re going out for an early lunch.”
“Since when?” Paul sighs, but he knows who’s boss here. He’s already packing up his laptop.
“Since that,” Jess says, and she points directly at me. “Look at him. He’s been walking around with his head in the clouds all week. It’s intervention time.”
“Wait, we don’t need—” I start to protest, but fire flashes in her eyes, and I’m smart enough to know I’ve already lost this battle. I sigh as I, too, close my laptop. “Jessica, you can be a real pain in my ass sometimes.”
“Is that any way to speak to your CEO? The whole reason we’re moving this discussion from the boardroom to a friendly lunch is that I want to pry into your personal life and I don’t want to mix business and displeasure. If you want to call me a pain in the ass, you’d just better wait until we’re out of this building and off the clock.”
Seven minutes later, as we step out of the building onto the street, I turn to Jessica and grin.
“Jessica Cohen, you are a pain in the ass.”
She throws back her head and laughs as she loops her elbow through mine.
“And because we’re off the clock I can speak freely, too. Fuck off, Marcus. I’m only doing this because I care about you.”
We walk automatically toward our default lunch place—a low-key burger joint a few blocks away. It’s far enough away from the office that we don’t often run into our staff here, but close enough that we can walk. But shit, it feels like the whole city is full of kids at the moment, because even on the short walk to the restaurant, every second person I notice on the street is pushing a stroller or walking alongside a kid.
Huh. Where do small children go all day? What will Abby and I do with our baby when we’re both working? I’ll bet she has some ideas already, neatly typed up and filed in that binder of hers. I should probably do some research, too... Maybe ask some of my staff...
“Have we ever looked into on-site child care?” I ask suddenly.
“No...” Jess says, frowning. “Why? Did one of your team request it?”
“Ah, no.” Oh, shit. Why did I even bring this up? “But plenty of our staff do have kids. I imagine it would be useful if we can afford it.”
“We keep saying we want to attract the best of the best,” Paul says thoughtfully. “I think we should look into it.”
“Hmm. Good idea, Marcus. I’ll check it out,” Jess says, but she peers at me curiously, and I clear my throat and thank the gods of awkward conversation that we’re finally at the restaurant.
It turns out there’s a private function today, and at first, Melinda the hostess tells us she doesn’t have room for us. But I have a good rapport with Melinda, so I chat with her for a bit, and the next thing I know, she’s seating us at a table.
“How do you do that?” Paul asks, waving vaguely toward the entrance where Melinda is back at her podium.
“Do what?”
“I don’t even know what it’s called,” he mutters.
“It’s called sweet-talking people, Paul.” Jess snorts. “You should try it once in a while.”
He flips her the bird, and we all laugh—but then Jess’s gaze sharpens and she turns to me.
“Right. What’s going on with you? Are you sick?”
There isn’t a lot Paul, Jess and I haven’t shared over the years. We’ve supported one another through virtually every up and down life had to offer in the years since college—both personally, and through the exhausting cycle of business successes and the inevitable tight periods when we attempted ambitious expansions and projects. Jess and Paul are my business partners but they’re also my friends. Hell, I lived with them for the two most intense years of my life—they’re pretty much family now.
But they’re also Abby’s friends—especially Jess, so maybe I should ask her if she’s okay with me telling them what’s going on but...fuck it all if I don’t need to get this off my chest at last.
“No, nothing like that.” I sigh. “There’s just a lot happening. My biological father just randomly started messaging me on Facebook.”
“Wow.” Jess frowns. “Yeah. That must be messing with your head.”
“Actually, I haven’t really had the brain space to think about that yet,” I mutter. “Look, the real reason I’m all over the place at the moment is that Abby and I are trying to have a baby.”
Paul silently raises his eyebrows. Jessica tilts her head, staring at me.
For a long, awkward moment, no one says anything.
“See?” I say pointedly. “I told you not to ask.”
“Fuck,” Jess sighs, and she glances at Paul. “I’ll settle up with you on the way back.”
“And that, my friends, is how you play the long game,” Paul says smugly. When I scowl at them, he explains, “We had a bet when Abby moved in with you that you two were going to get together.”
“We could all see there was something more there,” Jess tells me unhelpfully. “I just figured if you hadn’t already made a move on her, you never would.”
“Keep your cash, Jess,” I mutter. “We’re not together.”
“Well, I’m not sure how much you know about babies, Marcus,” she says with a laugh. “But if you’re trying to have a baby and you’re not together, then you’re going to be trying for a really long time.”
“It’s complicated.” I really wish I’d kept my mouth shut. How do I even explain this?
“Wait, I’m confused. Are you and Abby together?” Paul prompts, and I shake my head.
“No.”
“But that’s not because you don’t want to be,” Jess surmises. I clear my throat and pick up my menu to avoid her razor-sharp gaze. What do I want? Even I don’t know today. Last night I was swept up in a way that I’m just not used to, but in the cold light of day, nothing has really changed. I’m still me, Abby is still Abby. Any potential romantic entanglement between us is a recipe for complete disaster.
Even so, I already know that there’s no way I’ll suppress my attraction to her again. It was difficult enough after we kissed, but now? Knowing how explosive our chemistry really is, I’m pretty much fucked. I really thought I was over her. I was sure of it.
Maybe what was really happening this year was that I’d just dammed the feelings up and they were quietly simmering away to a boiling point while I deluded myself that everything had gone back to normal. The dam has burst now, but I can’t even begin to make sense of the surge yet. All I really know today is that I’ve never felt like this before. It’s scorching sex. It’s easy, intense friendship. I feel light inside even now, just thinking about her. What the fuck is happening to me?
“I’m still not following your situation,” Paul says suddenly. “So you’re having a baby together, but you aren’t actually together. How does that work?”
“Abby and I are best friends. But yes, we’re not getting any younger and we’re going to try to have a kid together.”
“Not getting any younger?” Jess repeats, eyebrows high. “She’s thirty, Marcus.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say, but I’ve already said enough, and I don’t want to betray Abby’s personal situation. I hope my tone is convincing enough when I simply add, “It’s complicated.”
“I’ll bet it is,” she says slowly, then pins me to my chair with a sharp glance. “You could just tell her you love her. Like, really love her. Instead of whatever the hell this baby scheme is supposed to be.”
Luca made a similar accusation a few weeks ago and I laughed in his face. Today, it feels bewilderingly too close to home and I can’t even dismiss it with a joke. Do I love Abby? Of course I do, she’s my best friend. But am I in love?
I know what lust feels like. This feeling is deeper and wider and more intense than lust has been or will ever be.
“Have you ever been in love?” I ask Jess, and she narrows her gaze.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’m genuinely curious. What does it actually feel like?”
“It feels like you want everything they have to give, the bad as well as the good, because to you—the good is just that good,” Paul answers before Jess can respond. “It feels like the connection you have to that person is so strong that it’s changed you—for the better.” He laughs a little bitterly. “Don’t ask me what it feels like when they walk out on you. That answer would be less poetic and more expletive-laden.”
Jess and I exchange a shocked glance. Maybe I’m a typical guy and I don’t exactly love talking about feelings, but Paul is on a whole other level. When Isabel first left him, I took him out for a beer and asked him how he was feeling. He answered by pulling out the tablet from his satchel and showing me some programming code with a long explanation about “jenga” code and how removing one line from his batch made the whole thing collapse. It was hours later that I realized what he was getting at. That was the first and last time we directly discussed his feelings about Isabel, until right this minute.
This time last year, Paul would have slipped his phone from his pocket the minute we sat down and worked or read as we talked—today he’s left his phone at the office. He’s engaged and increasingly willing to be vulnerable with us. I know Paul’s been on a journey this year, but the changes he’s made are becoming more obvious every day now.
“I have been in love,” Jess tells me. “It didn’t feel like that for me. It was the scariest fucking thing I’ve experienced in my life. It felt like stripping myself bare and stepping out onto a battlefield. But it’s different for you and Abby.”
“And how do you figure that?”
“Because you already know that it works, idiot.” Jess sighs impatiently. “The scary part of love is that the other person might discover something about you they don’t like and cruelly reject you, leaving you heartbroken and pathetic.” She nods her head toward Paul, and he glares at her.
“Thanks, Jess. If this CEO thing doesn’t work out for you, you could consider grief counseling with sensitivity like that.”
“I’d say Paul’s been more ‘pissed off’ than ‘heartbroken and pathetic,’” I say, and it’s my turn to be on the receiving end of his glare. I raise my hands in surrender. “Hey, man. I didn’t say it wasn’t justified.”
“Seems to me that things with you and Abby have been changing for a while, and you talking about babies and raising the subject of ‘love’ tells me this isn’t going away any time soon,” Jess says quietly. Her gaze sharpens again. “But I’m implementing a new policy—you two are only allowed to date my friends if you promise not to fuck it up. The Paul/Isabel fiasco is complicated enough for me without an Abby/Marcus disaster to deal with, too.”
An “Abby/Marcus” disaster is my fear, too. Even if I am in love with Abby, that doesn’t mean I’ll feel this way for the rest of my life. I have no way of knowing how long it will last. People fall in and out of love all the time.
And that’s all fine so far—because as far as I know, Abby is only interested in being friends who parent together. But what if her desires change, too? What if she’s avoiding me today because she’s feeling as awed by last night as I am?
I don’t think I’ve ever been as conflicted as I am right now. And the worst thing is, there are no easy answers. Patience has never been my strong suit, but the only thing I can do here is to wait and see what happens next.
ABBY IS NOWHERE to be seen when I get home. Her room is empty, and despite the crisp fall day, the heat is down low—which tells me she’s been out for some time and isn’t planning on an imminent return. I microwave a frozen dinner and take it into my study. There are emails clamoring for my attention, but I flick through them mindlessly.
I can’t stop thinking about last night. Memories played on a loop in my brain all day, stealing my attention every time I tried to focus elsewhere. I haven’t seen Abby and we’ve only had that very brief IM chat, but she’s occupied a space in every one of my thoughts.
I just want what’s best for her. I just want to do right by her.
I always have, and I always will.
Always?
I stare that thought down, but it doesn’t scare me one bit. Romance and sex aside, Abby has always had an “always” from me. We’ve been friends for thirty years, and I know we’ll be friends for thirty more.
I push back from my desk and pinch the bridge of my nose, about to give up on the laptop altogether, when another uncomfortable train of thought surfaces. I open my browser to navigate to the Facebook message thread of Warwick, Luca and me. Two messages now, both unanswered, a small block of text on the page that represents nothing more than an unwelcome, uninvited intrusion into my life.
Warwick is nothing to me and Luca—he gave up that right when he walked out. Jack is our dad, and he has been since he and Mom met at one of my football games when I was twelve years old.
Logically, I know the most reasonable thing to do here is to tell Warwick that I’m not interested in connecting with him. Luca will follow my lead, and if I end this once and for all, I can move on and focus on my own life.
Focus on Abby.
Focus on our baby.
I swear under my breath and slam closed the lid of my laptop. The childish part of me wants to leave the door open. It somehow craves both revenge and closure—I want to torture him with my silence, then learn why he left with a reason so big that it becomes a valid excuse. Maybe then I could understand him.
Maybe then I’d be less scared that I’m just like him.
Just then, the front door to our apartment slowly creeps open. Abby doesn’t call out as she usually would—instead, I don’t hear anything at all. I have a feeling she’s tiptoeing through the living area.
Perfect. A distraction. I keep my footsteps light, too, hoping I’ll catch her sneaking past me. As she comes into view, my gaze sweeps from her bare feet all the way up her body. She’s wearing her yoga clothes and the leggings cling to the curves of her hips and ass. I want to leap across the couch, push her up against the wall and kiss her until she’s jelly-limbed.
Maybe tomorrow night, that’s what I’ll do. But tonight, I have to reconnect with her in a different way. Our friendship still matters most of all.
“Are you absolutely sure you’re not avoiding me?”
She spins toward me and winces.
“I wasn’t avoiding you. I was out with Isabel. We just decided to get dinner after Pilates.”
It’s Friday night, which means that Abby would normally turn down all but the most tempting social engagements. Her routine on Friday evenings is a class at 6:00 p.m., followed by dinner and then gaming until late. She’s not exactly known for her spontaneous dinner dates, not even with her girlfriends. She has a meal with them every week—but it’s always on Wednesday, and occasionally brunch on Sunday.
I let it slide, though, because forcing the issue is going to make her defensive. Instead, I smile and ask, “Sounds like fun. How is she?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say she’s great,” Abby mutters. “These mediation problems are really getting to her.”
That’s the first time since Isabel walked out on Paul that Abby has actually answered when I asked about her friend’s welfare. Every time I tried to check in on Izzy until now, Abby deflected me and insisted that we refrain from discussing it. I kind of understood where she was coming from, given how close Paul and I are. But now that she’s opened the door, I try to keep the conversation flowing.
“Yeah, Paul mentioned she was being stubborn,” I say.
“Actually, she just wanted the house at Greenport, and that’s the only thing he won’t give her.” Abby’s gaze becomes a glare. “Why do you have to take his side? From what she said, she was miserable for ages before she left. I like Paul, too, but he has no people skills whatsoever.”
She’s a ball of tension; her hands are in fists by her thighs and her jaw is set hard. I take a step toward her, and she takes a step back—her legs colliding with the couch. She glances behind her, as if she is sizing up the distance to her bedroom.
“I’m not going to fight with you, and I’m sure as shit not going to pounce on you. I just wanted to talk. I missed you today.”
“I was busy—” she starts to say, but when I raise my eyebrows pointedly she falls silent, then sighs. “I freaked out, okay? I did.”
“No kidding,” I say gently, and she sits on the sofa, and I sit beside her. “Talk to me. We can deal with this as long as we keep talking to each other.”
“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about,” she murmurs. “I wasn’t prepared for that...last night.”
“What were you expecting?”
The flush is light across her cheeks, and she avoids my gaze as she mutters, “You know at the beginning when we crashed our noses and we laughed?”
“Yeah.”
“That. Lots of that. Lots of ‘Ow, move your elbow,’ and ‘Ew, that’s gross,’ and ‘Can you hurry up so I can go to sleep?’” Abby says, and when I laugh again, she shrugs. “I kind of figured it would be awkward, messy and simple.”
“We know each other too well for that, Abs. It was always going to be good.”
“Well, you could have told me that so I could have been prepared.” She rubs her forehead wearily.
“You’re complaining that sex was too good. People don’t complain about that,” I say pointedly. The curve of her neck reminds me of the way that she arched her head last night when she was moaning and writhing around. I want to cross the space between us to kiss her again. I wonder what she’d do if I did.
“I wasn’t complaining. I was just explaining to you why today...why last night... I just needed some space.”
“Okay. And you’ve had some space. So how are you doing now?”
“I’m good. Ready for round two tomorrow,” she says, forcing an unconvincing smile. “If you’re up for it.”
“You know I am.”
“Right,” she says, and claps her hands against her thighs. “Well, I’m going to bed.”
“Wait. I need you to do something first.”
“What’s that?”
“You need to come over here and hug me.”
Her gaze narrows.
“Seriously?”
“I want to show you something.”
“Oh, you don’t need to show me. I saw it plenty last night,” she says wryly, and I laugh again as I shake my head.
“I’m serious. Come here.”
Abby sits up, but she doesn’t move toward me. Instead, she stares. “What are you doing, Marcus?” she says, her voice dropping.
“Come here,” I repeat softly. She swallows, then shuffles along until she’s right beside me. I turn and wrap my arms around her for a completely innocent hug. “See? I’m still me. You’re still you. We’re still us. Nothing is broken.”
“Okay,” she whispers, then turns to lean against my chest. “Yeah, okay.”
“So tomorrow, don’t hide from me.”
“Okay.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Abby, if last night was too intense for you, then we won’t do it again—we’ll just find a way to use the syringe. The sex was great—amazing. But even if it gets us a baby, it’s not worth it if it damages this.”
I really mean it, even though a part of me wants to punch myself in the face for reminding her there’s another option here. But then Abby throws her arms around my waist and rests her face against my chest, and I’m glad I remembered to be a good friend.
“That’s exactly what I needed to hear,” she says, this time on a contented sigh. “Yes. Okay.”
“So we’re good?”
“We absolutely are.” I can’t see her face, but I can hear the smile in her voice, and I know she means it at last.
“Fantastic.” I kiss her hair, then playfully push her away. “Keep your hands off me. I need to rest my rocking bod so I can be at your service tomorrow.”
She laughs freely as she rises to her feet.
“Good night, Marcus.”
“Night, Abs.”
I relax into the sofa and watch her walk to her bedroom. It strikes me that I’ve almost been in a holding pattern since she blew my mind with that kiss in late December. In the beginning, I was so scared to push her. I was afraid she’d run away but also... I was scared she wouldn’t. What if we started something here, and I let her down?
Abby needs a man who understands her, who supports her and who cares deeply for her. But most of all, she needs a man who will always want the best for her and who will stand by her, no matter what.
Can I be that man?
The answer hits me so hard that my breath catches.
I already am that man. I always have been.
Maybe I’m a selfish asshole sometimes—but when it comes to Abby, I genuinely care about her, especially above the demands of my dick. In January, when I could see that she was freaked out about things changing between us, I forced myself to ignore my infatuation with her. Even tonight, when I wanted nothing more than to reach for her again, she wasn’t ready, and I didn’t think twice.
My highest priority here is to protect our friendship. To protect her. And I will. Always.
Suddenly it doesn’t seem to matter that I don’t know what the future holds for us—because I know that I can trust the way I care for her. Maybe I have been halfway in love with her all year, or maybe this is just an intense infatuation that’s muddled messily with our friendship.
But being sure about all that doesn’t even seem to matter, because whatever’s going on here, I am absolutely certain of the only things that do matter: I’d never hurt her, and that’s never going to change.
If me and Abby were together, and things got rocky between us, I’d find a way to work it out, and if there wasn’t a way to be found, I’d fucking make one.
I can’t ignore this anymore. I can’t pretend I don’t want something more from my relationship with Abby. It’s time to do what I should have done in the first place.
It’s time to back myself. It’s time to trust myself.
I’ll have to proceed carefully, because Abby is skittish, and I can’t risk scaring her off. But there’s something incredible simmering between us, and if last night proved anything, it’s that Abby feels it, too.
I’ll let her set the pace for us. I’ll let her take her time to explore this new dimension to our relationship.
But I have a second chance with her, and the one mistake I won’t make is to let her hide.