Take a Bow (The Perfect Plans Series Book 2) (26 page)

“Hey! What if I wanted to be the car?” I question like a fifteen year old.

“No can do, beautiful. I’m
always
the car. Here, you can be the thimble,” he dangles the piece that nobody wants.

“Fine,” I laugh, “I’ll be the man on the horse. You know, it won’t matter what piece you use, I’ll still beat your ass.”

“That may very well be the case, but you’ll always wonder if I let you win,” his mock charming smile makes me laugh out loud.

“Thanks for coming over, Andrew. I really needed the company.”

“Hey, what are friends for? But, you know, you can’t stay holed up in here forever, Aby. You have to go out sometime.”

On a sigh, I pick up the dice, needing the distraction from the serious turn of conversation. “Yeah, I know I do. I just…I don’t know. Stacey will be here tomorrow. She’s flying in from Toronto to stay with me for a while.”

“That’s great,” he smiles, as I roll and take my respective moves. “When does she arrive?”

“Sadly, not until tomorrow night. Maybe I’ll go into the office. That way I’m not ‘holed up’ in here,” I drawl sarcastically. “
Reading Railroad
, buster. It’s mine,” I mutter with delight, handing him two hundred dollars.

“Oh, it’s like that is it? You’re a railroad hog.”

“Yup, prepare to lose, car boy.”

“In your dreams, horse.” He takes his turn rolling the dice. “So…”

“So, what?”

“So, we’re
not
talking about Alex? And by
we
,” he adds quickly, “…I mean you?”

“Nope. You taking
Park Place
, racer?”

“Nah, too high a price to pay.”

Well, isn’t that a kick in the teeth
, I try to hide a grimace at the eerie, though unintentional analogy.
Park Place
is the equivalent of Alex’s world. Wealth, fame, and all the other expensive shit that comes along with it. And right now,
Park Place
can kiss my ass.

“ARE YOU SURE you really want to be here today?” Emily asks, her face giving away her recent membership in the
Poor Aby, Pity Party Club
. I’m really starting to hate that club.

“I think the office is the best place for me to be,” I reply with a closed lip smile. “That is of course, unless you’re going to look at me that way for the rest of the day.”

“What way?”

“You know what way,” I fold my arms, rolling my eyes. “I’m not some fragile little bird that…you know,” I flail my arms in search of the word fairy, “…lost her puppy or something.”

“Aby, birds don’t have puppies, love. What you have is called the blues,” she offers the
Pity Party
forced smile salute.

Ugh
.

“You still haven’t heard from him, have you?”

“It’s only been a few days,” I feign indifference, thumbing through my files. I can’t bring myself to admit to her that it’s killing me. He outright left me. It’s not all butterflies and rainbows anymore. And I know exactly how long it’s been - day three, and it sucks - but I’m sure as hell not going to give a member of the sympathy club more pathetic ammunition.

The feel of her concerned stare burns a hole in the side of my head, and I exhale an annoyed sigh before turning to look at her.

“He said he needed time, Emily. And I don’t doubt that,” I shake my head at the thought of what he must be going through, despite what it’s doing to me. “I have to respect what he needs right now.” Although it
is
killing me that I haven’t heard from him.
Doesn’t he want to talk to me? Does he even miss me?

“He isn’t giving you much of a choice either way,” she shrugs sympathetically, turning back to her work.

No, he isn’t
. I lean back in my chair, hugging the files to my chest. He did, however, take the time to explain it to me before he left. In so many words, at least.
That’s a hell of a lot better than just leaving without any at all
, I close my eyes against the shameful memory. But at the end of the day, it’s not
my
lack of choice that concerns me. It’s his. And, more to the point of the dagger aimed at my heart, it’s the fact that he has to make one at all. Julia…or me.

“Good morning, ladies.”

I cringe at the sound of Helena Adelaide’s silky, and rather cheery, voice. “That’s quite the pep in your step for so early in the day,” I offer without turning her way.
Why does she get under my skin so easily?
She’s never really done anything to me, personally. So, she slept with my boyfriend on a whim, or a phone-a-friend whore-call, up until the point he met me. That doesn’t exactly make her a threat. Or a whore, for that matter. Maybe it’s her timing. Yeah, I’ll go with that. She has whore-timing.

“Good morning, Helena,” Emily shoots me a questioning glance.

“What a pleasure to see you at the office, Aby. I must say,” Helena pauses to sit on the corner of my desk. “I was concerned to hear that Alex returned to Los Angeles without you. Is everything okay?”

And,
there it is. My Ho-bra alarm going off again. She may be innocent as a mouse, but in my mind, she contorts into a snake that’s actually chewing on one, its poor tail still sticking out of her slimy jaws. “You’ve got a little something right there,” I brush my finger at the corner of my mouth with patronizing sarcasm.

Of course, it’s lost on her; concern plaguing her gaze as she discreetly wipes her lip.

Oh well
, I mentally shrug her off, pretending to look busy with my files, although I do feel a little guilty for being such a bitch. Just a pinch.

Ignoring her, however, isn’t making her go away.
Ugh
. “Everything is fine,” I lie, without looking up. I just want to get rid of her annoying gaze. I’m sure as hell not telling dial-a-goddess anything about Alex and I. “Our return to London was for personal reasons, a friend of Alex’s is in the hospital.”

She says nothing, and I look up to find an odd look in her eyes. That’s all the information I plan on giving her. It’s not my place to divulge anything further about Ben’s situation. As far as I know she barely knows him, other than the introduction I gave her at the office that day Ben picked me up. That
fateful
day. A shiver runs down my spine, and I quickly shake it off hoping it goes unnoticed.

“Alex will be back in a couple of weeks, when he breaks from shooting,” I add, hoping that will satisfy her and get her off my desk.
Two long painful weeks, during which I may, or may not, hear from him at this rate.

The look on her face is just…
weird
.

“Is something else concerning you, Helena?”

“N-no,” she finally replies, her mouth hanging agape as though she’s considering saying more, before closing it, suddenly avoiding my gaze. “Oh, it looks as though Thomas is ready to see me,” she stands in an awkward rush, brushing the wrinkles from her perfectly fitted skirt. “It was nice chatting with you ladies. Perhaps we can meet for lunch one day this week,” she smiles, making her way towards his office.

“Wow,” Emily gushes. “
That
would be the woman to befriend.”

I turn to look at her, taking in her bitten lip.
Really?

“Aby, she is the lady with connections to the hottest men in London, remember, the perks of her job here. All those models and celebrities,” she swoons, staring at Helena through the glass wall of Thomas’s office, suddenly turning back to me. “Oh yeah, right, you
have
yourself one of those hot celebrities...” she stops suddenly, her face twisting in regret. “Sorry. It’s not like you’re actually broken up,” she shrugs with an awkward grimace.

“It’s okay,” I shake it off with a forced smile.
I just died a little.

“So you can’t just hang me out to dry. You’re the reason she is so friendly, she certainly never gave me the time of day before you came along. We’re having lunch with her, right?” It’s more an order than a question.

“Ummm…sure. I mean, we’ll see,” I attempt a smile, nipping the corner of my mouth. Her expression is killing me, and I quickly turn away, sorting through my files.

In my peripheral vision, I see Emily roll her eyes before looking back to her computer. Then I roll my own.
God
, could I get through a lunch with that woman? I mean, how exactly would that play out? In my mind, I imagine something like:
Would you mind passing me the cream, Abigail? Oh, that reminds me, isn’t Alex the best creamer?

Gross and completely messed up, right? But it’s my prerogative to dislike someone who’s probably creamed my boyfriend more times than the cow’s been milked. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Guilt be damned.

“Goddammit!” I toss the files on my desk, quickly stuffing my finger in my mouth to still the bleeding and quell the instant pain.

“Paper cuts are a bitch,” Emily notes quietly.

More like karma
, I grimace, swiveling my chair to face her, my digit still stuffed in my mouth.

“That’s what happens when you’re preoccupied,” she pulls out her sympathy card for another stamp.

I ignore it,
and
my guilty conscience for the Helena-karma. I’m a pathetic mess. Maybe coming into the office wasn’t the best idea. I hear wine calling. Wine and pajamas. Wine, pajamas, and a chick flick. I’ll need tissues.

“Speaking of seeming preoccupied, have you noticed anything weird with Thomas lately?” she continues, jarring me from my momentary loss of focus.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” I struggle to keep up, still lost in thought.

“Thomas. Have you noticed he’s been acting weird? He seems off.”

Thankful for the change in topic, and somewhat intrigued by her question, my gaze instantly darts to his office. “Hmmm, I hadn’t noticed.” How could I notice? I’m selfishly absorbed in my own battered and broken heart, shattered dreams, and losing the man that I love more than life itself.
Shit, I hope it has nothing to do with Stacey.
“I haven’t spoken to him much,” I try to waylay my guilt for possibly being a super shitty friend.
Double shit.

“Well, he’s definitely been acting prickly. Yesterday he was just staring through that glass wall for, like, twenty minutes straight. Arms crossed, expressionless, just staring at
nothing
. I get staring off into space now and again, but for
twenty minutes
? And, at least sit down to do it, if you’re so inclined to daydream. Standing up just seems silly. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet lately, as well. Even at the board meeting this week, he barely said a word. No playful banter. No jokes. Nothing. Something is definitely amiss.”

Humph
. I’ll have to feel him out when he’s done with
Handy
-Helena.

Watching them through the glass wall, her hand brushing his arm as she leans over him at his desk, I can’t help but want to slap her touchy tentacles away. On second thought, maybe I’ll touch base with Stacey and feel her out first.

Grabbing my cell phone, I type a quick message.

Subject: Can’t wait to see you!

Everything on schedule for your visit? I came into the office today. Thomas seems a little stressed. Is everything…

What a joke
, I delete the last two lines. Passive-aggressive won’t work with Stacey. If I’m concerned, I have to outright ask.

Subject: Can’t wait to see you!

Everything on schedule for your visit? I came into the office today. Thomas is acting more than a little ‘off’ – please tell me I haven’t been a shit friend, and that everything is okay with you two.

Aby xo

Hitting send, I turn back to my work, instantly relieved to get her quick reply.

Subject: Not as excited as I am!

Thomas and I are great! But he is a little stressed with work. He’s all mine tonight, baby! I’ll suck all his troubles away as soon as I land :) Gotta run, my flight is boarding.

Stace xo

Shaking my head on a smile, I attempt to blow off the visual I
did not
need, and toss my phone in my bag.
They’re great. Good.
I’ll have to remember to drink to that, right after I drink to my own broken heart. Yup, wine is calling.

POUR. IT’S MY word of the day -
word of the week, actually
. Pour myself into my work. Pour myself another glass of wine. Pour myself into the pursuit of distraction, while I watch the rain continue to pour down outside. What the hell else can I do? I need the diversion. I need to hide from the absolute pain that’s been permanently imprinted on my heart.