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For fuck’s sake!
I puff out an annoyed sigh as I rub my temples. “Dammit, Abi. Stop with the bitterness towards my choices in life. You may not condone what I’ve done in the past, but I’m not some evil man fucking hisway through the females of Chicago. There’s more to me than that, and you’ve already witnessed it. I didn’t just walk away from you when you said no. I enjoyed your company, with or without having slept with you.” I give her a pointed look and add, “If you are so affected by my book, then surely you would know by now that if I were this person, you are making me out to be… then I would have walked away from you the moment we met, after you snapped at me. I’m no fool, Abi, and was aware of you throwing daggers at me for even trying to charm you.”
I wave my hand between us and continue my much-needed vent. “And that still didn’t stop me from wanting to spend time with you. You and your hair.” I finish with a lopsided smile. Remembering the spark between us when I felt her watching me.
Her pouty mouth widens a little, seeming to be taken aback by my words. But in a flash, she closes it and mutters, “Touché.”
A waitress comes over as we’ve been here long enough to be served and takes out a notepad, then asks, “What can I get for you today?”
We both look up at her and then glance at each other, as if we are mentally deciding whether we’re at the point of eating together or too bitter about it. I’m a tad surprised when Abigail looks down at themenu and says, “I’ll have the grilled chicken sandwich but on Rye, please.”
As unexpected as it was, I’m glad that she’s staying to eat. I missed spending time with her, and our last meal together was ruined by an argument. A bit of a clusterfuck, really. But it was my fault, and I have enough sense to admit it.
I take a glance at the menu and tap the all-day breakfast. “I’ll have the BLT roll, please.”
The waitress nods as she notes our order down and then spins around and leaves, leaving us in an awkward silence. After a few minutes, I can’t handle it, and break it.
“It’s good that you’re writing again.”
Yup, I went there, but I mean it. Writing was a means of venting and also letting your imagination go wild.
Abigail smiles, finally, and says, “Yeah, I’m happy. It’s, uh, a little different to what I expected, but I think it’s going to be a pretty cool concept.”
I nod, returning a smile, enjoying the way she perked up as she spoke. Abigail then cocks her head and gives me a look.
“What about you? Going to write a second book?”
I twist my lips, not liking this topic because I’m confused about what I want to do. I hate the feeling,but my mind is in jumbles, and I can’t figure out what I want. Well, there is that unusual detail of wanting Abigail, but regarding my career… that’s the unknown.
“I haven’t sorted that out yet. Greg, who I had as an agent, did something pretty shitty, so I fired him. Didn’t think it through though because I ended up with no representation, no help with marketing, no idea what to do next.”
Abigail gives me a slight look—blatant pity — and says, “So that’s why you called Tiffany.”
“Yes. Hey, listen, before I go off topic, I need to clear something up with you.”
Her brows furrow as she cocks her head and stares at me.
“I’m all ears.”
A sigh leaves me before I explain the situation with Greg back at the resort. I explain he is my brother, and how he was tied to my career, leading to his plan of pretending to be me.
“Without my knowledge, he fucking went ahead with the attempt to throw you off. I knew he wanted to do something like that, but the initial idea was for it to be me. But please believe me when I say that I didn’t agree to anything. He did this behind my back, and I am fucking furious with him for it.”
“Shit, that’s low of him, whether he is your agent or your brother. I suppose I owe you an apology for snapping at you like that afterwards. I really thought it was you and saw red.”
I make a slight nod and sense my mouth curve into a smile. “Well, I can see where you were coming from. We are identical, so he had a great opportunity.”
Abigail chuckles and traces the design on the glass sitting in front of her, then says, “He succeeded though, certainly threw me off, that’s for sure. I recovered by using you. I told everyone I broke it off, and that’s why I was leaving your hotel room,” She finishes with a shrug.
A chuckle rumbles through me. “Good save.”
The waitress interrupts us with our food, and once she leaves, we devour our meals.
Midway through her bite, Abigail says, “I read somewhere that you like statistics. What’s that all about?”
I swallow my food and wipe my mouth clean, then go into the topic I don’t really elaborate on.
“I majored in it. Even planned on doing the PhD on it until I met-” I pause as I realize what I was about to say, but no. I’m not ready to open that can of worms. “I always found it fascinating that you can learn a lot simply from gatheringinformation and gaining insights through the statistics. One of the key differences between statistics and people is that statistics don’t lie. Well, a very high percentage of the time, depending on the validity and correctness of data you are initially provided with. Before I wrote my book, you could give me a spreadsheet and coffee and I was in my happy place.”
