by Avery James
"Me?" he said playfully as he looked into her eyes. He did his best to copy her scowl from earlier, but couldn't keep from smiling. "Never."
"Abigail, so nice to see you again," the man said. He held out a hand to Nolan. "Peter Holman, but you can call me Pete."
Nolan shook his hand and gave a little nod. "Nolan Ross," he said.
"On behalf of the American Association of Dairy Producers, AADP, I'd like to say welcome to our humble gathering. If you haven't had a chance yet, there are samples of our products going around, and we're more than happy to answer any questions.”
“So what is it you do on behalf of the AADP?” Nolan asked. He looked to Abby, who gave a slight nod.
"I'm a cheese man," he said. He tapped his lapel pin with his index finger. "I represent brie, camembert, and of course, Swiss. Don't tell Dwight over there, but I'm angling to step up to the big leagues, soon, Cheddar. Now if I detect correctly, you have a bit of an accent."
Nolan nodded.
"English?" Nolan shook his head no. "Irish?"
“Not quite.”
"Scot?"
Nolan nodded.
"Beautiful country," Pete said. "One of my favorite breeds of cow originated there, the Highland."
"We had a few of them growing up," Nolan said. "We used to feed them out of our hands."
"You lived on a farm?" Pete asked.
"Something like that." Nolan gave Abby a quick look.
"Well, you can take the boy out of the country," he said. "I've never met a farmer without at least one barnburner of a story, if you can excuse the expression."
"I wouldn't call anyone in my family a farmer.” In fact, they had someone on staff who took care of the animals. Even then, it wasn't much of a herd. They'd had four cows in addition to a flock of sheep mostly because it was easier to let them graze than to pay someone to trim all of their fields. They had goats for a year, but they were too much trouble. The cattle were social. In a lot of ways, they were just like big dogs. One of them used to follow him around. It would lick his arms until he rubbed its ears. If it weren't for their size and all of the shit, they'd make great pets. Of course, it only took one wrong step for disaster to strike. Nolan lost track of the conversation for a moment and apologized for getting lost in thought. "I just remembered the damndest thing. Have you ever been cow tipping?" he asked.
"Can't say that I have," Pete replied. "Although, I've heard a few tales."
"It's always like that, you know why? A cow weighs close to a ton. It's like trying to flip a Volkswagen, but that's not the amusing part."
The memory was little more than an image of a boy, about fifteen years old, covered head to toe in cow shit, bright blue eyes blazing with anger as he chased his younger brother through a field. The boy was tall with broad shoulders, but hadn't filled out yet. He was full of potential, and in that moment, full of anger at Nolan. Nolan laughed and shook his head. "This requires a bit of an explanation. When my brother and I were kids, we used to play tricks on each other, like hiding in a dark room and jumping out to scare the other one, messing with each other's stuff, that kind of thing. Well, one day, my brother thought it would be funny to get one of the cows to chase me around, and so he convinced me to go cow tipping.
“Anyway, I had an idea of what he was up to, so when we got out there, I told him to show me what to do. When he got close enough, I clapped my hands as loud as I could and the cow spun around on him, and my brother jumped backwards into a giant pile of, well you get the idea. As soon as he was back on his feet, he was running after me at full speed…” Nolan trailed off, then he said. “Hey, will you excuse me? I have to take a call.”
Pete held out his hand. "Of course. It was a pleasure, Mr. Ross."
"I'll be right back," he told Abby. He felt a tightness in his chest and he just wanted to get a breath of fresh air. He just needed to step outside and clear his head. It had been years since he'd felt this feeling, this sharp ache deep in his chest. He'd forgotten that story completely.
There were some memories Nolan had replayed so many times in his head, they'd gotten worn out to the point where he wasn't sure if he was remembering the actual event or some copy of it he'd made in his mind, but this memory had been all but forgotten.
It had been twelve years since his brother died, and more and more, Nolan had resigned himself to losing him forever. The jagged edges his death had torn in Nolan's life had been smoothed over time, and life had returned to something approximating normal, and then he remembered something he'd forgotten and it was like the loss was new all over again. Nolan made his way out onto a balcony that looked over a small side street. Outside, the air was cool, and he took deep breaths. His chest ached, but he didn't want to forget this feeling. He wanted to hold onto it for a while. This sense of loss was the closest he'd get to having his brother back again. He just needed a moment to himself.
He’d been outside for maybe a minute when Abby followed him out. He heard the door open and knew it was her without looking.
"What's going on?" she said, stopping dead in her tracks.
Nolan froze for a moment as he wondered what to tell her. He didn't want to burden her with all of this. She didn't need to hear about his family tragedy, the way it had destroyed him, the way he hated himself for moving past it. The way it still nagged at him all these years later.
"That was some story," she said. “Was any of it true?”
"All true," he said.
"I thought you were an only child."
"I am," he said. "My brother died when I was eighteen years old. I'd just started at uni. He'd graduated a year early and joined the military. He was an officer. He'd been deployed for three months when his unit got pinned down and he ordered his men to evacuate while he provided cover. He died a hero. He saved their lives and didn’t hesitate to risk his own. At least that’s what I’m told.”
“I didn’t know,” Abby said.
“He's buried in the family graveyard. It's right near the spot where he slipped in cow shit after trying to tip a cow. I try to hold on to the memories I have of him, you know, but sometimes it feels like he’s slipping even further away from me. I hated him for it, you know. I was so mad. I didn’t cry, I didn’t break down. I got angry and self-destructive.”
"Nolan, I'm so sorry," she said. He could see the tears welling up in her eyes. He explained to her how Ewan's death had devastated him, but instead of pouring his grief into something productive, he’d gotten self-destructive. He drank, he partied, he slept around. He did everything but face his feelings. “That’s how I became Nolan Ross, the bad boy from Inverness.”
"What can I do?"
"Keep this between us. There's a reason why my brother doesn't show up in any of the stories about me. I made sure of it. The last thing he deserves is to be a side note in a story about his brother nicking a Ferrari and driving it into a swimming pool."
"Don't think I saw that one."
"That's because all the attention was on the passenger," he said. "Don't worry, she's fine. I made sure my misdeeds didn't reflect on my brother. He deserved better than that. He deserves better than that. I'm sorry I took off. It's just been a long time since I've remembered something like that about my brother, and there are a lot of emotions I didn't quite deal with when he died."
Abby stepped up to him and placed a hand on his arm. "You don't have to apologize," she said. "I mean, the whole showing up half an hour late thing… sure, but not this."
He found tenderness, connection, and comfort in her touch. He wanted to tell her, but he didn’t know how. He couldn't remember the last person he'd told about his brother. It was a deeply held secret. He'd never meant for it to be that way. He'd just meant to protect his brother's legacy by staying as far from it as possible. Somewhere along the way, it became easier just to avoid explaining it all to people.
“Tell me what I can do,” Abby said.
"Let me take you out," he said. "Not to a work event, not to a bar or
a rooftop. Let me take you on a real date. I like you, Abby. I like you a lot, and I've wasted too much damn time with people I don't like. And I've spent too much of my life playing it cool. Give me a chance."
He felt the silence that followed with every fiber of his being. He was hanging on her next word, and he didn’t know what he’d do if she said no.
"Ok," Abby said.
"How about tomorrow night?"
"You're not wasting any time, are you?" she said.
"I know what I want," he said.
"Does it involve getting me back to your hotel room? Because I think we went over that one."
"That would be one step," he replied. "Let me take you out. Let me prove to you that I want something more than a meaningless hookup."
"And what makes you so sure I want that?" she asked.
"You're out here, aren't you?" he asked.
Abby looked into his eyes and bit her lower lip. As he looked back, Nolan became aware of the way the balcony was lit in the soft glow of the streetlights on the far side of the street. Abby's face was half in shadow, but it was as beautiful as ever. "Yeah, I am," she said.
"So what do you want?" he asked. He wrapped an arm around her. He could feel the cloud of sorrow lifting as he stared into her eyes.
"I'll go on a date with you under one condition."
"Name it."
"You have to spend under $100 total."
"I think you left off a few zeroes," he said.
"And if I'm able to get dinner donated by a friend?"
"A normal date," she replied. "No sweeping me off my feet by chartering a helicopter to your private island. No expensive champagne. None of it. If you want to win me over, you'll have to do it on your own."
"But my money's my most attractive quality," he said. "Well, that and my cheery disposition."
Abby laughed and rolled her eyes. "What do you say?"
"It's a date," he replied.
“Ok,” she said. “It’s a date.”
Chapter 8
Abby didn't get nervous before dates. It just wasn't a thing for her, usually because she knew things weren't going to work out from the start. So why was her stomach in knots as she picked out an outfit and wondered what Nolan would think of it? She was getting ahead of herself. They'd had one moment of connection at the Cheese Ball, a moment where she'd convinced herself that just maybe there was more to Nolan Ross than met the eye. Of course, since then, Nolan had been doing his best to convince her otherwise. His texting, while amusing, could use some refinement. Never had she met someone her age who made such liberal use of emojis. They'd been texting back and forth since the ball. Flirting back and forth. Somehow, no matter what the message, he managed to make her smile every time.
Maggie had noticed more than once at the office, and she'd been giving Abby a hard time about it. Abby could tell it was Maggie's way of encouraging her to see Nolan again. Abby was pretty sure Maggie was already looking into joint vacations for the four of them to take. Abby grabbed her phone, posed in from of the mirror for a second, snapped a quick selfie, and sent to Maggie. What do you think?
Think of how great it will look on the floor, the text came back.
Shit. Had she texted Nolan? She checked the text again. Nope, definitely Maggie.
…? Abby replied. That was a very un-Maggie text.
Channeling my inner Abby, Maggie wrote. Do you not remember giving me that advice?
Abby shook her head and laughed. Maggie was right. She'd given her that exact advice years earlier when Maggie had been indecisive about what to wear on a date. For a second, I thought I'd texted Nolan by mistake, she wrote. Maggie (and, by extension, Abby herself) was right, though, guys barely noticed what you were wearing. Any amount of cleavage compounded this exponentially. Abby chose a low cut dress that was neither formal nor informal, and decided it would give Nolan plenty to consider.
The buzz of the intercom brought her attention back to the moment. She checked the time on her phone. Nolan was half an hour early.
Gotta run, she texted.
I expect a full report.
Abby slipped her phone into her purse and headed downstairs.
Nolan was standing on the curb, holding a small bouquet of flowers. His eyes lit up as he watched her walk out the door. “Don’t worry, they were the cheapest I could find,” he said. “I gave some thought to getting you a hundred-dollar bouquet and improvising from there.”
Abby looked down at the flowers: carnations and asters or maybe Gerbera daisies, with little sprigs of baby’s breath. She couldn’t remember the last time someone bought her flowers. “So, where are we headed?”
“I thought it was a nice night for a walk,” he said. “You look fantastic, by the way, but you might want to change out of those heels and into something a little… flatter. It just doesn’t seem fair.” He was grinning, and she knew there was more to come. “It doesn’t seem fair that I have to do this without my money, but you get to wear those heels.”
“Hold my purse,” she said, shoving it into his arms. “I’ll go put these flowers in some water and be right back. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before turning towards the door. “They’re lovely.”
When she made it back down, she took note of what he was wearing: jeans, worn boots that probably cost more than her mortgage on her condo, and a gray cotton tee beneath a sport coat. “You look great, by the way. And your attire gives me absolutely no hint of where we’re going.”
“I was hoping you’d invite me up,” he teased.
“Oh, was that your idea of a cheap date?” she asked.
Nolan nodded and started to walk, leaving Abby to hurry up to reach his side. “My first idea was to charter a private plane to Paris where we could watch the sun rise over the Seine before getting breakfast at a little cafe where you’d scrunch your nose up at the menu and say you wish your French wasn’t so rusty, and I’d give you a hard time about it before ordering strong coffee. Then we’d wander the back alleys of the city, discovering little by little that we’re actually perfect for each other. Along the way, you’d see something in a window, nothing fancy, but your heart would fill with longing. I’d pretend not to notice and make some excuse later on to step away long enough to buy it for you.”
Abby was starting to think maybe her budget limit on the date hadn’t been the best idea after all. “So besides Paris, what are your plans?”
“I know a great little pub in Dublin. A few retreats on Islay, and my family has a villa in Mallorca, but if none of that sounds good, there’s a conference of research scientists who all want to meet you.”
“That last one’s a joke, right?”
“I told you last night, I went to the wrong party. I asked around for you, and naturally, they wanted to know more.”
“What do you mean naturally?”
“You’re a very intriguing woman, Abby. You’re shrouded in mystery.”
“I’m shrouded in mystery?” she asked. “What about you? Care to tell me what you’re doing in town again?”
Nolan smiled. “I’m on business.”
“And does that business involve buying up political news sites?”
“I thought we weren’t going to talk about work,” he said.
“Sorry,” Abby said. “It’s hard not to, sometimes. In truth, I’m married to my job. I have been for years.”
“What did you do before this?” Nolan asked.
“Well, I spent a few too many minutes getting ready for this date.”
“I mean before the job.”
“I started as a legislative assistant to a congressman from my home state, there was a bit of a scandal involving our chief of staff, and… you know, I’ve never told anyone the true story behind this before.”
“Well, your secret’s safe with me,” Nolan said. “Unless you become famous, then it’s all fair game.”
Abby stopped and looked annoyed long enough for Nolan to recant that last part. “Whatever you say to me, abou
t anything, will never go beyond the two of us,” he said. “I need you to know that.”
“The chief of staff was arrested receiving sexual favors from a stripper named William Bananas.” Few things made Abby blush, but that ridiculous name was one of them.
“Billy Bananas?” Nolan asked in disbelief.
Abby nodded. “He’d put him on the payroll as a consultant. I should add that his legal name was William Bannon. I was the one who found all this out. Thank god they got arrested at two thirty in the morning on the Friday before a long weekend, technically Saturday, so no one was around to notice. I was the one who found out Billy was on the payroll. So the congressman was technically paying Billy Bananas for services rendered to the chief of staff. I brought it to the congressman who put me in touch with Amy Haven that morning. By that evening, I’d tracked down another William Bannon, a climate scientist based in Alexandria. The next day, Amy Haven and I were sitting across from him, offering him a job as a consultant with one catch: an NDA. He knew that something was up, but didn’t care. The chief of staff resigned, William Bannon, the scientist, helped unveil the congressman’s plan for tackling climate change, and the congressman won reelection. After everything, I got a job offer from Amy to come work for her, and I’ve been doing it ever since.”
“Billy Bananas?” Nolan asked again.
“Is that all you heard?”
As they continued to walk, Abby tried to guess where they were going, and she wondered what Nolan had up his sleeve. “How about you? What did you want to be before you became a media mogul?”
“I wanted to be a writer,” Nolan said. “My brother was the one set to inherit land and title and everything that went with it, and I was going to be free to do whatever I wanted. I wanted to write something truly important, to contribute. Now I peddle gossip.”
“How does that even happen?” Abby asked. “You don’t strike me as the gossip type. In fact, everything about you screams the opposite.”
“I’m not,” he said. “But you have to understand that in the U.K., everyone else is. Everyone’s obsessed with class and status and royalty. Your family name is enough to get you in the press. If you’re young, and a bit wild and dating models, well, suddenly, you’re surrounded by cameras everywhere you go.”