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In my entire life, I had never been as hungover as I was the next morning.
Water didn’t help. Food didn’t help. Not even my precious coffee. And it certainly didn’t help, that behind every wave of nausea, there lay an over-whelming feeling of guilt.
You yelled at Nick last night. Screamed at him. Did exactly the thing he accused you of, the thing you promised you’d never do: You lied to him, the same way you lie to the press.
But what was the alternative? Tell him the truth? I didn’t know it myself! And maybe he was completely right. Maybe I didn’t want to see him with one of his exes. And maybe I wanted him to pretend because I wanted him all to myself.
No! That was outrageous!
My thought process was literally: he decided to go along with my PR plan then walked abruptly away...so I found the most wretched girl in the world to stick him with.
In what possible dimension did that make sense? What impulse in the world had possibly inspired such a ludicrous lapse in judgment? And then I yelled at him on top of everything else?
I was lucky he hadn’t fired me on the spot.
Don’t worry about that...there’s still time.
With the speed and coordination of a shell-shocked turtle, I managed to yank some clothes over my head, stick my feet in some shoes, and head out the door. My purse was still packed with all my work equipment from the day before (thank goodness—so I didn’t need to do my customary ‘racing all over the apartment to find things’ routine), so without another moment’s delay, I hailed down a cab and headed into the office.
“Morning,” I mumbled to the cabbie, before giving him the address. “And I know everyone says this—but if you could hurry, that would be greatly appreciated.”
The man’s eyes twinkled as he glanced at me in the rear-view mirror.
“Late night, sweetheart?”
I fought back another wave of nausea, and twisted my grimace into a smile.
“...you could say that.”
He chuckled and pulled out into the gridlocked rows of cars.
“Don’t worry about it. You’re not the first walk of shame I’ve driven into work today.”
Walk of shame?
I looked down at my clothes in dismay, only to see that in my zombie-esque state, I’d pulled on a sundress—not my usual work dress. The thing twisted up in a halter, before dropping just beneath my knees. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I’d also pulled it on backwards.
“Oh, that’s just perfect,” I muttered, “because nothing says New York City winter like halters and daisies...”
For a second, I considered yanking the thing around right there in the car. Then I saw the cabbie was still watching with a little smirk.
...probably best to wait until I’m at the office.
Ten minutes later, we had arrived. I over-paid the man, too hungover and embarrassed to count out the correct bills, then climbed out and waved him on his way with the world’s biggest tip. From there, it was just a quick, freezing dart inside to the elevator.
“Morning Ms. Wilder,” Joe—the doorman—called out as I ducked inside. “Late night?”
For the second time, I glanced down at the sundress with a scowl. It was only then that I noticed the two mismatched pairs of shoes. My cheeks flushed and I glanced back up, ready with a hasty excuse, only to see him smiling. I flipped him off instead and hurried to the elevator.
That bastard. Guess who’s not getting a Christmas card from me this year...
By the time the doors opened on my floor, I was in a particularly foul mood. My head was spinning, my stomach was queasy, and freezing gusts of air kept flying up the skirt of my ridiculous summer dress. The interns recognized the look and ducked for cover.
Allison, my unassuming secretary, was not so lucky.
“Messages?” I snapped, pausing at her desk to remove my coat.
Her eyes widened slightly at my ensemble, but she said not a word. She also had the good sense to hand me her own cup of coffee.
“Harold called from the Times, said that he’ll retract the lobster piece, but he wants a sit-down at the company’s annual party on the Fourth of July.”
“Fine. What else?”
“Cynthia called from Denver, said they discontinued that cologne Nick wanted, but she did get some definitive information on, and I quote: time-share adopting a bear.”
“Fine. What else.”
She flipped through her notes at the speed of light, disregarding and prioritizing as she went. “Oh, your mother called—”
“What else?’
“I think...I think that’s about it.”
“Good.” I handed back her now empty coffee and looked down at my dress. “I going to fix this really quick in the bathroom, and then—”
“Abigail!”
I looked up to see Jake waving to get my attention. Both hands on his keyboard, and a blinking phone glued to his ear.
“What was that one guy’s name?” he called from across the office. “The one with that girl from that show that we said we looked like Tommy Tamica’s cousin? Dressed in drag?”
“Ryan,” I answered automatically. Then I looked down at the fading lettering on my hand with a sudden burst of illumination. Oh my gosh—that’s who it was. “RYAN!”
I raised my hands in silent victory, drawing curious looks from the staff, before lowering them back down with a decided smirk. At least one thing was going right today.
...or so I thought.
“Oh—and Nick’s on his way to the office.”
The smirk melted right off my face, replaced with a cold chill as I glanced automatically towards the elevators. He was coming here?! He NEVER came here!
“What?!” I hissed. “Why the hell didn’t you lead with that?!”
Her eyes widened with confusion as she shook her head.
“You’ve only been here a minute, I thought—”
“You always, always lead with the client,” I snapped, misdirecting a good deal of pent-up nerves. I glanced again at the metallic doors. “Did he say what he wanted?”
She shook her head quickly, looking more and more confused every second. “He said you’d know what it was about. I’m assuming it’s about Ella?”
With a soft gasp, I sank onto her desk. My face as pale as a ghost.
Yeah...I bet he wanted to talk about Ella. I also bet I would no longer be in charge here by the time he was finished.
“Is everything okay?” Allison asked quietly, brow furrowing with concern as she perched on the desk beside me. “Did you two have a fight or something?”
My head jerked sharply. “Why—did he say that?”
“No, I just—”
“What did he say, Allison? Exactly.”
She glanced down at her notes. “Just that he was on his way into the office with Ella and that you’d know why. They need to start planning out events.”
All my panic came screeching to a halt, replaced instead with sudden confusion.
“Wait...what?”
“Events,” Allison repeated. “They want to get started planning—”
“Events with Ella?” I shook my head. “No, that’s not happening anymore. Ella’s not going to be a good fit, I’m afraid. It’s back to the drawing board—”
“Apparently not,” she disagreed apologetically. “Nick called to leave the message himself. I think it’s actually the first time I’ve ever talked to him...”
Without another word, I rushed into my office—slamming the door behind me, whilst muttering something about lobsters and mismatching shoes.
There was a momentary hush from the rest of the staffers, but by now, they were used to such bizarre antics. The world of public relations was a strange one, and they had seen stranger things in the office than me.
Besides—I didn’t have time to worry about whether or not my employees thought I might be crazy. My boss was on his way over.
And for whatever reason, he was bringing that Oklahoma disaster with him.
Okay, think Abby! Think!
But there simply wasn’t time. Not four seconds later, my intercom buzzed and Allison’s voice crackled through the speaker.
“Excuse me, Abigail? Mr. Hunter is here to see you. Along with his...friend.”
My eyes snapped shut in a weary grimace, as I sank an inch lower in my chair. Yes, that was Ella alright. She seemed to have that sort of effect on people.
Well aware of the possibility that I was about to get fired, I pushed the button back.
“Send them in.”
A moment later, the door burst open and Nick strode confidently inside. The night of heavy drinking seemed to have had next to no effect on him—whereas I still looked like a creature that had crawled out of the Black Lagoon.
Behind him, through the slowly closing door, I saw the faces of every single person in my office—just straining to get a glimpse. While they spent their lives glued to computer screens plastered with images of Nick’s face, this was the first time most of them had ever seen him in person. And with Nicholas Hunter, even I had to admit: the man lived up to the legend.
Also behind him, dear little Ella was trailing along. Like an after-thought. As if he’d forgotten not only that he’d brought her here, but that she was the entire reason he’d come.
“Good morning, Abigail!”
Was he speaking loud on purpose, or was it just my imagination? Either way, I flinched as I pushed slowly to my feet—head throbbing with a hangover that refused to leave.
Was it?
“Good—” I cleared my throat and tried again, “—good morning.”
His eyes danced with a strange triumph as they looked me up and down. It was then I remembered I was wearing the sundress. And it was still on backwards.
“Holy shit!” Ella stepped forward, jaw dropping to the floor. “Abigail, what the hell happened to you? You look fucking awful!”
Real subtle, that one. Sweet too.
Nick bowed his head to stifle a grin, and I grimaced her a smile.
“Uh...thanks, Ella. I just had a long night, was all.” With as much dignity as I could, I gestured for the three of us to sit. “Trust me—it won’t be happening again.”
Not ever.
Nick’s eyes flashed up, but he held his tongue. Not that he had much of a choice. It quickly seemed as though Miss Ella had a few hundred ideas of ways she and Nick could be presented as the world’s most perfect couple.
“Well good—because we’re going to need you.” She grabbed his hand, and held on like her life depended on it. “There’s so much to do, I don’t even know where to start!”
As she began rambling on about nothing in particular, Nick and I engaged in a silent war.
Both glaring at each other from across the table. Both determined not to blink first. Both firmly convinced that, at the end of the night, they had been in the right.
It could have gone on forever. Literally. Nick Hunter was the most stubborn person I’d ever met, and I had been literally trained never to back down until people saw things my way. It wasn’t until I heard the phrase ‘pirate dancing’ that I was forced to tune back in.
“I’m sorry,” my head throbbed painfully, “what?”
Ella’s eyes lit up, eager to explain.
“Okay, now try to keep an open mind. You start in a—”
“No, you know what—I’m going to have to stop you there.” I held up an apologetic hand as the other scrambled around in my desk for aspirin. Nick was literally shaking with silent laughter, and there was only so much I could take. “It sounds wonderful, this...pirate thing. But I’m afraid, when you’re in Nick’s social circle, it’s no longer an acceptable use of time. That being said, before we dive in, I think that he and I should probably work a few things out—”
“What’s there to work out, Abby?” Nick’s eyes twinkled as he stared into mine, fighting all the while to keep a straight face. “We settled on Ella, right? After all...you picked her.”
His face glowed triumphantly, but in that very moment, the same thought dawned on me.
You know what...I most certainly did. And since she was here...
Like flipping a magical light switch, my headache suddenly went away. The world cleared back into sharp focus, and my lips curved up in a smile.
He wanted to play this game? See who could outlast who? That was fine by me. Nick had always been a rather impulsive gambler, and he seemed to have forgotten a critical component.
I wasn’t the one who had to date her.
“I certainly did.” My smile widened as I bestowed it upon each of the happy couple in turn. “And you know what...I think Ella’s right. You guys need to get out there! Get seen! And I, for one, can think of plenty of things to keep you busy...”
Ella nodded and began immediately prattling on again, but Nick lifted his chin with a secret smile. His new girlfriend might be completely unaware, but there was a game afoot.
And it was a game that neither one of us intended to lose...