by A. L. Parks
Abby snickered. "She wanted to let me know that I was wasting my time with you. There was some reference to riding into the sunset. I think she’s afraid I may steal your virtue. I don't know."
Bryce glanced up at her, his eyebrows scrunched together. "And you said?"
"Something about her swan-diving off a cliff. Oh, and I threatened to kick her ass."
"Really?" Bryce asked, his voice elevated, and his eyes wide.
"No," Abby responded.
"Smartass," Bryce chuckled.
"I did tell her that we’re friends, and that she needed to mind her own business. But I would have kicked her ass if she hadn't moved out of the way, and let me through the door."
"I have no doubt. Come on, Sugar Ray, let's get you home." Bryce said, and pulled her to her feet. She grabbed her shoes, and gingerly walked to the service elevator that would take them to the parking garage. Once in the car, Abby wondered if Bryce would bring up their close encounter in the hallway that resulted in a near kiss. Instead, he talked about the festivities, and how he was sure the event had brought in huge donations. Abby rested her head against the back of the seat, and tried to file the incident away as the delusions of a mad woman. It had been the excitement of the moment, and the comfortableness of the two. But it had been nothing, and whatever happened, or almost happened, remained in the dark hallway of that moment in time. Abby wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed. And she didn’t want to analyze her erratic emotions tonight.
***
Abby grabbed her ringing cell phone from the counter. She and Bryce had just returned from the farmer's market, loaded with late fall vegetables. It was early October and this was the final weekend for the market. Abby loved the consistency of her friendship with Bryce. She had tried to forget the almost kiss from the charity fundraiser, but often found herself wondering what would have happened if they had kissed. And where they would be in their relationship now. As much as Abby wanted to believe that she and Bryce would move into a new phase, an evil voice in her head chanted they would only be friends, and that anything more would ruin that friendship.
"Ugh," Abby cried, as she rolled her eyes at the name on the caller ID. "Hi, Mom," she answered, trying to be upbeat, but already sure this was an invite to come to dinner for her birthday the following weekend. Abby hated celebrating her birthday. She hated being the center of attention. And her mother always went overboard in an attempt to make sure Abby felt that she was not missing anything as the years passed without a husband; the only one of her siblings not married.
"Hello, Dear," Charlotte Clark's voice sang over the line. "How are you?"
"Good, Mom. What's up?" Abby really wanted to get off the phone, and continue the conversation she had been having with Bryce as they came in the door. She loved hearing about the various artists that had their work on display, and the crazy demands that they would make. Bryce's art world was completely foreign to her, and she had learned so much in the months they had been friends about art, museums, and his role as curator. But she also needed to have a more serious discussion regarding the Foundation and the financial reports she had been poring over. She had waited until after the gala, because she didn’t want to add more stress, and she needed to ensure her own figures were correct before making allegations.
"So, your birthday is coming up," as if Abby didn't know, "and we are all excited about your birthday dinner! Why don't you invite your new boyfriend? What's his name? Bryce?"
Abby sighed heavily, "He's not my boyfriend, Mom. I've explained this to you many times. He's just a friend." Exasperated, Abby pulled the phone away from her ear, and handed it to Bryce. "Tell my mom we are just friends, please!"
Bryce smiled, and took the phone from her before she could put it back to her ear. Abby gaped at him.
"Hi, Mom. Yes, this is Bryce," he looked over at Abby with
a huge, silly grin on his face. "It's nice to finally meet you, too, even over the phone...Abby's birthday is next week...well, that's good to know...no, she didn't tell me it was her birthday...yes, I would love to come for dinner...thank you very much...what time...okay, I'll be there...yes, I'll make sure the birthday girl is also there...do you want to speak to her?" Bryce let out a chuckle, before concluding the call with, "I see...okay, then. I'll let her know. See you next week, Charlotte."
Placing the phone on the counter, Bryce continued to pull vegetables from the sacks, finding the ones he planned to use for dinner, and intentionally ignoring Abby. She stood there, hands on her hips, shifting from one foot to the other. Finally, Bryce looked up at her and tried to maintain a serious look, but lost it when he took in her stance.
"Well?" she demanded, "what did she say?" Abby wrapped her arms across her chest.
"She said she didn't need to talk to you because she was comfortable that I would make sure you arrived at your own birthday celebration." Bryce walked over and pulled Abby's arms from across her chest, "Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday next week?"
Abby shrugged, "It's just not a big deal – it never has been. I am not the 'center of attention' kind of gal." But it was a lie. Abby had hated her birthday since the year she turned twelve. Her parents had been going through a very tough patch in their marriage, and fought constantly. Wrapped up in their own issues, they had forgotten that October 8th was their middle child's birthday. Instead of celebrating, they had decided it was the appropriate time to tell her and her siblings that they were divorcing. It hadn't mattered to Abby that they never actually divorced, and had reconciled a few months later. It impacted Abby deeply. She had never discussed it with them, and they apparently never remembered that her birthday had been skipped. But a crack had appeared in her relationship with her parents that year, and had developed into a deep chasm; she had never been able to get past the hurt. And she resented her mother for wanting to make a big deal of her birthday every year since Trevor had died, without once realizing what she had done so many years earlier.
“So, I do need to have a serious discussion with you, though,” Abby stated, changing the subject. Bryce was washing vegetables, and Abby was folding up the canvas bags they took with them to the Farmer’s market.
Bryce threw a glance over his shoulder at her, “that doesn’t sound good.”
Pulling the file from the top of her desk, and returning to the kitchen bar, Abby let out a long sigh. “Well, it’s not great news, unfortunately. There are some serious inefficiencies in the day-to-day business at the foundation that I think could be streamlined. If we can get some of the overhead down – which is way out of control – I think a larger percentage of donations can actually be directed towards the various research facilities. As it stands, a dismal 30% is donated, by my calculations.”
Bryce stopped what he was doing, and gawked at Abby. “What? She told me nearly 75% was going to the research facilities.”
“Well, she has some creative accounting going on, that’s for sure. But I have run these numbers every which way I can think of, gone back over everything multiple times, and I cannot get my numbers to match hers.”
Abby shuffled some papers in the folder and pulled out a spreadsheet. “Also, you have a rather large staff – too large, if you ask me. And they are all very well paid. I have never heard of a secretary making this amount of money. And why does Sheila need two people doing essentially the same job? I would cut the workforce in half, and cut salaries. You are wasting a shit ton of money that could be going towards the foundation’s mission.”
Exhaling loudly, Bryce pulled his hand down over his face, and scrubbed his cheek roughly. “Damn.”
“Sorry I couldn’t give you better news, Bryce.”
“It’s not your fault, Abby. I should’ve been paying closer attention, or something. Can you pull all your numbers together for me, and give me a synopsis of what you found? I guess I will have to have a talk with Sheila, and go over everything. Hopefully, I will understand it enough to discuss it coherently.” He resumed washin
g the vegetables, and placed them on the cutting board.
“If you think it’ll help, I could go with you when you talk to her. If nothing else, I can justify my numbers, and let you know if she is trying to pull one over on you with her explanations,” Abby offered, putting the papers back into the folder and setting it aside.
“You’d do that?” Bryce asked, and his eyes sparkled at her. It nearly took Abby’s breath away, and she fought the blush hitting her cheeks. He had a way of catching her off guard with those sweet looks, reminding her that he was a very eligible, excessively sexy man.
She swallowed, grabbed a couple of grapes from the fruit bowl in front of her, and popped them in her mouth. “Of course,” she said, and looked away. “I’d be happy to.”
***
As much as she had wished her birthday away, it came anyway, and Abby was forced to attend the family dinner in her honor. She tensed reaching for the door handle to her parent's home. The last man she had brought here had been Trevor, and they were already deeply in love when she finally broke down and introduced him. Bryce was not her boyfriend, although she did love him in a way that she could not explain to anyone, mostly
because she didn't fully understand herself. She was on edge; nervous they would embarrass her, or ask probing questions about their relationship, and concerned Bryce would feel uncomfortable under the scrutiny of her mother. Charlotte had been trying for years to get Abby to find a replacement for Trevor, and start producing grandchildren. It was the way it was done, and Charlotte was all about making sure all the boxes in her life had been appropriately checked, and that no one would think she had failed as a parent.
But Bryce seemed happy, almost excited, to meet her family. He had already charmed Abby's mother, and would no doubt have the same effect on the rest of them. It was his gift. Abby had no idea why this bothered her – it was certainly easier on her if they all liked him. But she had wanted to keep him, and their friendship, all to herself. It was selfish, and stupid, but he provided her with so much happiness and joy, that she clung to it for dear life. If something were to happen that would take Bryce away, she would fall apart again. She relied on him to help keep her sane.
Embracing her parents, Abby introduced Bryce, as her mother pulled him into a hug. Bryce took it all in stride, kissing Charlotte on the cheek, and giving her one of his patented heartmelting smiles. He shook hands with her father, adding, "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Clark."
"Please, call me Bill," her father offered, and led Bryce into the living room. "What can I get you to drink?"
Bill introduced Bryce to Abby's older brother, James, and her brother-in-law, Davis. Abby felt her younger sister, Clara, slide up beside her, while James' wife, Courtney, put an arm around Abby's shoulder from the opposite side.
"So," Courtney drawled, "he's hot. I totally approve."
Abby shook her head, as Clara piped up, "That he is; total charmer. I can see why you've been keeping him all to yourself, Sis."
"I have been doing nothing of the sort. And I have told you, we’re just friends. Period. End of discussion." The two women leaned forward and gazed around Abby at each other. "Rrrrright," they stated simultaneously and winked. Abby groaned, and went to join Bryce in the living room.
They sat around the dining room table, and relaxed after the huge dinner Charlotte had made. Bryce sat next to Abby, and had his arm around the back of her chair. Davis sat on the other side of her, while Clara, Jim and Courtney sat across from them. Her parents anchored the table. Everyone was groaning and rubbing their full stomachs. Her mother’s chicken cordon bleu was one of Abby’s favorites, and she had it every year for her birthday dinner. But it wasn’t until Bryce raved about it that Charlotte blushed, and offered, “Oh, that’s so sweet, Bryce. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
Abby had the table rolling with laughter relaying stories of the idiot drivers in the city, and inadvertently called someone a bitch. Charlotte, however, did not tolerate cursing at the table.
"Abigail Winifred! You watch your mouth!" Charlotte’s hand flew to her chest in disbelief that her 32-year-old daughter would use such offensive language.
Bryce nearly spit his wine out, and chuckled. "Abigail Winifred?" Abby elbowed him in the ribs, and gave him a dirty look.
"Yep, Abigail Winifred," James acknowledged. "That's hot, huh?"
"You should talk, James Ira..." Abby quipped. Clara laughed, and brought the ire of her siblings dead center on her.
"Clara Beatrice!" James and Abby sang in unison, as Bryce continued to laugh. Abby's father just shook his head, and held up his hands up in defeat.
"What?" Charlotte asked, not amused and completely offended. "They are perfectly wonderful names – family names," she defended.
"Old, dead relative names," James added, while Abby raised her wine glass to salute him.
They moved from the dining room to the living room, where they ate Abby's favorite chocolate cake, and had coffee, before opening her birthday gifts. She removed the bright pink tissue paper from an overly busy gift bag, and pulled out a cashmere pashmina from her parents. Clara handed her two birthday cards that contained gift cards from her siblings.
A small red box sat in the center of Bryce’s hand. It drew the attention of everyone in the room, and Abby could not take her eyes off it. Her mind raced through the possibilities of what might be in the box. She had been given one piece of jewelry in her life - her engagement ring. She had no other experiences to fall back on.
Opening it slowly and carefully, Abby gazed at a locket that lay delicately on the white satin blanket. Inlaid with Mother of Pearl, a sweeping "A" was etched into it. She pulled it from the box, and held it by the chain. She marveled at its simplicity and beauty.
"I left the inside empty," Bryce commented, as he tried to gauge her reaction, "so you can put in whatever pictures you want."
Abby finally pulled her eyes from the locket, and peered at Bryce. Slowly, a smile slid across her face, and she whispered, "I love it. Thank you." She handed it to Bryce, as she turned around, and pulled her long auburn hair up so that he could place it around her neck. The room was silent as everyone watched the two interact. Finally, her father cleared his throat, and asked Bryce if he would like another cup of coffee, or something stronger.
Chapter Four
The sun had burst through the clouds mid-morning, and melted the snow that had accumulated the previous day. By the time Abby and Bryce made their way to Abby's parents for Thanksgiving dinner in the middle of the afternoon, the roads were slushy. Bryce was on his cell phone talking to his parents, who had migrated to Florida once they had retired. After Emily's death, and the foregone conclusion that their only child would not be producing grandchildren for them, they moved there permanently, and rarely returned to New York. The only time Bryce saw them was when he would venture down to the Sunshine State for Christmas.
He would be leaving for his winter vacation on December 23rd, and Abby was dreading the emptiness that was sure to accompany his absence in her life. She wanted to beg him to stay in the city for Christmas, but knew it was completely selfish of her to think only of her needs. Bryce deserved to be around his family also, and so Abby had smiled and was supportive whenever he discussed his travel plans, despite a tight clenching of her chest at the thought of him being thousands of miles away. She would miss him. She just wasn’t sure if her feelings were purely friendship any longer.
"Okay, Mom, wish Aunt Judy a happy Thanksgiving from me, and tell her I hope her bunion removal goes well." Bryce had to look away from Abby for fear of laughing into the phone as she made retching sounds. He finally looked over at her, as he continued to listen to his Mom on the other end. He pulled the phone away from his mouth, and said, "Mom says to tell you 'hi'."
"Hi, Mom!" Abby called out loud enough for the woman to hear. “Happy Thanksgiving!”
Bryce ended the call shortly afterwards, and let out a happy sigh. “Well, you have effectively won my parent’s hea
rts, Abigail.
They think you’re perfect.”
“Yes,” Abby fist-pumped. “Finally, someone recognizes my perfection!” Bryce shook his head at Abby, but she saw a gleam in his eyes, that lit her heart on fire. He got her; her quirky sense of humor; her sarcasm, her moods. And she knew that he liked her despite of all of her imperfections. And she was thankful.
Pulling in front of her parent's house, Abby placed her hands on the steering wheel, and went through her usual routine of calming herself down before seeing her mother. Abby and her mother had at one time been close, but had drifted apart over the years, most notably after Trevor's death. Bryce reached across, and took one of Abby's hands in his, and raised it to his lips. His eyes caught hers, and she drew in a breath, as a welcome warmth rushed through her. He held her gaze for another moment, and something in them sparked. But just as quickly as he had taken her hand, he dropped it, and opened the car door. And Abby felt cold, disappointed, and missed the feel of her hand in his.
As soon as they entered the house, Bryce took Abby’s coat, and laid it across the chair in the living room, along with his. Courtney greeted them, gave Bryce a kiss on the cheek, and handed Abby a glass of wine. “Your mother is in rare form this year, Abby. You better take a swig of that before we head into the kitchen.” Abby’s father called Bryce’s name, and he smiled at Abby, before he walked in to join the other men in the family room. The Detroit Lions were getting their asses handed to them in the first of the Thanksgiving Day football games, and roars of laughter filled the air as Abby walked with Courtney to the kitchen. She felt empty. She wanted to be with Bryce.
When dinner was served, Bryce took a seat next to Abby at the table, while Courtney sat on the other side of her. Throughout the meal, Bryce would brush his hand against hers, or bump her leg with his. Abby flirted with the idea that he was intentionally trying to touch her, be close to her. When he leaned in and whispered in her ear to pass the rolls, the warm breath against her neck sent