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His brows rise. “I would have definitely already heard all about that.” He tucks a loose strand of my braid behind my ear. “There’s no way you wouldn’t have gushed about spray painting houses and streaking down the roads.”
“I never said anything about streaking.” I blush just imagining doing something that brazen.
“I embellished your embellishment.”
The fact that we’re so different—his past muddled with bad deeds and mine relatively spotless—is what causes most of our friction. Whoever said opposites attract, well, they were right, but they forgot to mention how many strings are weaved and knotted between that attraction.
We’re complicated, but as long as we’re together, I don’t care what we are.
I reroute to the earlier point. “It is a big lie, though,” I say softly. Keeping this from Ryke and Lo is difficult, and I don’t know what’s worse: them finding out Jonathan gave me money to bury the footage of the fight or them finding out I kept it a secret in the first place.
“I know,” Garrison nods, not downplaying the situation. “It’s a big deal.”
february
62
garrison abbey
Two months pass in a blink. Willow and I keep the secret, and Jonathan isn’t brought up much at the Hale house, making it easier.
It’s also been two months since I’ve seen Willow in person, which is starting to get to me. We’ve talked about marriage and babies and begun to map out a future. Doing that has changed me a little bit. I want what we imagined together. One baby. Marriage. Soon-ish.
God, I want it.
But it’s not going to happen if we can’t see each other for months on end, so I came up with a plan.
And it could go really bad. It’s what I know as I wait for 3 p.m. to hit at Cobalt Inc.
No, I’m not quitting. Willow would probably break up with me on the spot if she heard that I quit to move to London.
It’s something else, but I’m nervous as hell because if Connor rejects this, then I’m not sure what I’ll do. I don’t have a plan B.
Maybe I should have a plan B.
“Abbey.” Keith struts over and stops at my cubicle. Cobalt Inc. hired him after his internship ended, and Keith, along with his team, was awarded a humongous bonus after their Valentine’s marketing push paid off. Some sort of magnet keepsake thing.
I don’t really care. My job isn’t in the “magnet” sector, so I don’t cram my brain with useless shit. But their giant cock-sized bonus is all anyone will fucking talk about. And if he starts yammering on about it, I may just check out early.
“I’m busy,” I tell Keith.
“This won’t take long.” He adjusts his Rolex, a gift from the CEO as part of the big dick bonus. “I heard from Diggy that you have an appointment with Connor at 3 p.m., and I need it.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why in the hell does Ryan Diggins like that you all refer to him as Diggy?” Ryan is Connor’s assistant, and honestly, I don’t talk to him much.
“Because it’s cool as shit, just like him, and you’d know that if you showed up to any of the company parties.” He taps the top of my cubicle wall. “You’re missing the point.”
“Yeah, totally missed how you want my appointment time,” I say, sarcasm on my tongue. “Went right over my head.”
He lets out an aggravated noise. “Look, you don’t even need to schedule a time to see Connor. You could walk up to him at any point. Hell, you live on his street, Abbey. You could knock on his door if you wanted to, and he probably wouldn’t think that’s weird.”
He’s right. Connor wouldn’t.
But I wanted to do this the professional way. It’s a professional matter.
“Sorry, man,” I say. “It’s not happening.”
Keith glances at my mini-fridge. “You still need someone to grab you lunch and dinner from the caf? I’ve got you covered, no extra charge this time.”
His offer almost makes me smile, not because I’m going to take it. But because I don’t need it. “Thanks, but no thanks. I actually bring my lunch in to work now.”
I make a sub sandwich every morning when I pack Maximoff’s snacks for preschool. I took care of it once for Lily and Lo when they were both running late for work, and they’ve let me do it ever since.
I enjoy helping out, especially since I’m not paying them rent, and Lo would barely accept a check for groceries.
Keith rubs his eyes. “Abbey. There’s only a short window of time I have leverage for a raise, and you have one of the only available appointment slots—”
“It’s not available,” I cut him off. “I have it.”
Keith slowly blinks. “I’ve got blow.”
Jesus. “Then you should be going into his office begging not to be fired,” I snap. “Connor hates drugs.” At least, he doesn’t want his employees on them. I would know, I’ve had to take a fucking drug test every six months since I failed my first one. They’ve all been negative since.
