Eventually, Matt is dressing and we’re soon leaving the room with Matt being wheeled to the exit, the entire time grumbling he can walk perfectly fine. The nurse ignores him and keeps pushing, insisting it is hospital policy. Before we reach the exit, I see a hoard of paparazzi standing outside the hospital doors patiently waiting with their cameras in their hands.
“Shit,” I let out as I take in the sight. When Julio had mentioned there were several outside, I merely thought maybe a handful, but there must be at least a dozen, if not more.
“I’m getting up here,” Matt tells the nurse and she stops wheeling him, allowing him to stand with my help. He wraps his uninjured arm around my waist and protectively holds me against his body. “Let’s go,” he says over to Julio and Trey, leading us towards the door. As soon as the first cameraman spots me, he holds up his camera to start snapping pictures, the rest of them soon follow suit.
As if they had the exit already planned, Julio and Trey take up guard in front of me, and Matt walks snuggly beside me. The minute the sliding doors open, you can hear the sound of the non-stop clicking of cameras. Recently I had come to love that sound, but today I am loathing it. It’s a reminder that I’m now the old Abigail Adams; the one who chose to always be in the spotlight.
“Abigail! Is it true you were still in love with your manager?”
“Are you still grief stricken?”
“Do you still plan on modeling?”
“What’s going to happen now?”
They all start hammering me with nonstop questions before I can take one step out of the door. I’m tempted to yell back at them to leave me alone, but I know it would only fuel their fire. My only goal at this point is to get Matt into the car as quickly as possible. I can already feel the tension in his body with every footstep as his grip tightens around my waist. I know at this point it isn’t to protect me, but from the anger and animosity of the situation. He’s probably struggling just as badly as I am to not shout back at them.
When we’re finally in the confines of the car, I let out the breath I was holding as I exited the hospital. Why even after his death does Bill not fail to remind me of the past I had with him? The scene before me as we drive away is a replica of the day I’d left the hospital in Seattle, and all because of him. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to calm down. I have to remind myself it’s my past and he’s no longer a part of it. Thank God.
TUCKING ABIGAIL PROTECTIVELY at my side, I ignore the paparazzi shouting at us. Their questions are enough to make me want to rip them to shreds for asking them, but shouting back at them isn’t going to win us anything. Right now, my only concern is getting her into the car. Within seconds, Julio is shutting the door behind us and I’m finally able to lay my head back on the headrest to let out my breath. Even through the blackened tint of the windows, I can still see and hear them shouting at us. Another minute later the driver is cautiously driving away. I would have preferred silence for the car ride back to the hotel room, but since we have Trey, it isn’t possible.
“Well, that was fun,” he sarcastically mocks, breaking the silence in the car. “So, what’s for dinner?” he quickly changes the subject. Neither Abigail nor I immediately answer, causing Trey to continue with his bantering. “I guess it’s my choice,” he announces. “You all like sushi?”
Ignoring his words, I tenderly kiss Abigail on her temple, hoping to reassure her everything will be okay, but deep down inside I have no clue what will happen from this day forward. I can only pray Abigail will have the strength to deal with it, especially knowing she’s still choosing to ignore the subject for now. But that is soon going to change because the first chance I get I’m going to talk to her about it. I already know she isn’t going to be happy with having to face the demons of her past.
MY EYES ARE glaring back at Hans as he stares down into the screen of his phone. I’ve only been back at my hotel room for a little over an hour and he’s already hounding me about rescheduling the photo shoot. To be honest, he’s been hounding me for the last couple of days, but I’d purposely been ignoring his phone calls and text messages while Matt was in the hospital. My daily answer to him was: I’ll let you know when Matt is released, until then, leave me alone.
He wasn’t happy with the answer, but it was the same every day.
“I’ve already told you, Abigail, I don’t think I can manage rescheduling the shoot on such short notice. You either stay in New York or you fly back when I have a confirmed date.”
“No,” I clip out for the fourth time since he’s told me the same demand. “It’s either you schedule it for tomorrow or the day after while I’m still in town, or you don’t get the shots. Once I return to Portland, I’m not coming back. My boyfriend is still recovering and I’m staying at his side until the show in Paris,” I clarify.
Grabbing at the bridge of his nose, he replies, “It’s bad enough I have to deal with Rebecca still grieving like a diva and refusing to proceed with the show, I now have to deal with your diva demands.”
“Take them how you want, but those are your only options from me. You’re lucky Matt is still alive, or else you would have two grieving divas, as you have so kindly labeled us,” I throw back at him.
I rub at my temple in hopes it will help ward off the headache he’s managed to give me as the minutes tick by. “I’ve already told you. It’s not like I planned on my boyfriend getting shot,” I proclaim through clench teeth. “We wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place if you didn’t hire shady people.”
“How was I supposed to know that Charlie was an accomplice in plotting a murder?”
The word murder makes me cringe. It’s a reminder of how close I came to dying—how close Matt came to dying. My thoughts are broken when Hans continues the conversation.
“I thought with the gorilla you had with you all the time, you were fully protected.” The sound of an angry growl comes from behind me and I don’t have to turn to know it came from Julio, making me smile.
“I’d watch what you say, my gorilla owns a gun.”
Hans rolls his eyes before grabbing at the bridge of his nose again. I hope his damn headache is worse than mine. At that moment, Trey walks out of the bedroom and heads straight to the couch to sit. He curiously looks back and forth between Hans and me.
“What going on?”
“Hans is bitching about the photo shoot again,” I answer Trey, earning me an amused nod as he throws his arms on the back of the couch.
“I’m not bitching. I just don’t understand why you’re being so difficult,” Hans screeches back.
Trying to calm myself from his response, I take a quick deep breath before I answer. “I wouldn’t be so difficult if you’d stop throwing last minute shit at me. Since the day I arrived you’ve done nothing but demand things out of me. I’m tired of it. I need to time to breathe!”
Hans opens his mouth to argue back, but he’s cut off by Trey. “You don’t have to do it, Abigail.”
“Yes I do. It’s part of the show,” I sadly reply.
“Yes, she does,” Hans throws out at the same time I respond.
“No, she doesn’t,” Trey clips back to Hans. “The contract you sent her never stipulated any additional appearances or promotional work she was required to do. Therefore, Abigail is not obligated to accommodate your additional demands. Her job was solely to perform for the runway show, and that’s it. By law, you have to present her with the offer and it’s her right to choose whether she wants to do it or not. You’re the one who keeps throwing all this other shit at her and she’s been doing it like a dumbass,” Trey announces.
My mouth drops open in shock from Trey’s proclamation. I don’t know if it’s from him pointing out that I’m a dumbass or the fact he used such highly intelligent language. Either way, Hans immediately goes stiff as if being caught in a lie.
Trey’s eyebrows are raised and he’s staring straight at Hans, as if waiting for him to argue. The silence is now thick in the
room as we all wait for someone to speak. Not surprisingly, it’s Trey who does so first. “From now on you have to give Abigail forty-eight hours’ notice, and don’t be surprised if she says she doesn’t want to do it.”
“It’s not like we don’t pay her. She gets paid fairly well in my opinion to do everything.” Hans pinched nose goes up high after saying the words.
“I really doubt supermodel does it for the money,” Trey states, now looking over at me.
I nod in agreement before I say, “I don’t.”
“See? She doesn’t have to do shit for you besides strut her ass on that platform on the scheduled days you gave her.”
I should be angry at the way he described what I do, but instead I’m beaming for the first time in days. Hans still looks furious as he speaks. “She already said she would do the photo shoot. It’s Abigail who is being difficult and backing out now.”
“I never said I wouldn’t do it. I just said I was tired of you thinking I was at your beck and call.”
“And she isn’t,” Trey adds. Looking over to me, he asks. “When do you want to do the photo shoot?”
“Tomorrow.”
“There you have it. She’s willing to do it tomorrow,” he claims with a tilt of his head as he answers.
Hans grows more irritated when he realizes he’s losing the battle. “I already told her, it’s too short notice!”
Trey shrugs his shoulder at him. “Take it or leave it, dude. Shit happens. People were shot and you’re lucky Abigail isn’t suing your ass for the lack of security on set that allowed someone besides Julio to get near her with a gun. If I were you, dude, I’d take Abigail’s offer of tomorrow and make it happen, or else we’re leaving and you’re going to be screwed.”
“Fine!” Hans exclaims as he stomps from the room. “I’ll call you later with the details.”
“Email!” Trey yells back at him. Hans stops in his tracks and turns to face him.
“Fine, I’ll email them,” he growls as he turns and leaves the hotel room.
I’m still mildly in shock from what’s just happened when I turn to face Trey, who has a smug smile on his face. “You’re welcome,” he says.
“How in the hell did you know all that?”
He simply shrugs his shoulders as if it’s no big deal. “I’m good at deciphering contracts,” he smugly replies. I’m still looking at him dumbfounded. “Matt left a copy of your contract on the counter after you sent it to him. I was being nosy and read it. I majored in business management so that shit is easy for me to understand.”
Julio’s booming laughter vibrates throughout the room as I say, “Trey Johnson, for the first time ever, you have ceased to amaze me.”
His smug smile grows wider as he shrugs again. “You’d make a really great manager,” I tell him before standing up and heading straight to my room. When I enter it, it’s still dark from when Matt began to fall asleep. Standing against the doorway for a moment to allow my eyes to adjust, I can hear Julio and Trey’s deep voices holding a conversation. Not wanting to be away from Matt any longer, I head towards the bed. Climbing into bed next to him, his arms automatically reach out and tuck me against his good side. Digging my nose into the hollow of his neck, I take in his familiar scent and quickly begin to grow sleepy.
“I love you,” I whisper into his neck right before I drift off into sleep.
MY EYES FOLLOW Abigail as I sit in bed and she frantically rushes from one end of the room to the other, clearly looking for something. I know it’s her bracelet. She removed it from her wrist earlier to clean it and placed it to dry on the counter. I picked it up while she was in the shower to admire it while I waited for her. Cruelly, I haven’t told her I have it because I like watching her prance around the room in nothing but her strapless bra, thong, and stockings. Her hair has loose curls at the end cascading down her back, making her look sexier than ever.
She lets out an exasperated huff, and from the way she’s now biting her lip as she heads to the bedside table, I know she’s on the verge of tears, causing me to cave.
“Looking for this?” I ask, dangling the bracelet on the tip of my fingers.
I had expected for her to joyfully light up, or at least be relieved to see it, but instead her eyes bore into me as if she’s ready to kill.
“You had it this whole time and you didn’t tell me?” she yells out, already reaching for it. I yank it back as far as my body will allow, causing Abigail to stumble onto my body as it escapes her grasp. “Matt! Give it to me!” she exclaims, telling me there is something more than just the fact that she couldn’t find her bracelet that is bothering her. Still clutching the bracelet, I pull her body to mine.
“Come here,” I command, urging her to straddle my waist. With a final huff, she does as asked, but still looks distressed.
“Now, tell me what’s wrong?” From the way she’s still biting her lips, I know she’s considering her words.
“I just wish you could come with me,” she states. “I want you to rest, I truly do, but I feel bad for leaving you alone tonight. You sure you don’t mind staying?” she asks with grave looking eyes.
“I’m sure,” I tell her. “Anyways, I wouldn't be much fun with me swaying on my feet every now and then.”
She reaches up to run her hand through my hair, causing me to shiver from her touch. “The pills still keeping you high?” she asks with a light chuckle. Her pointing out exactly how I feel most of the time is a bit disappointing.
“Yeah,” I grimly answer, hating having to admit it. I know I have to take the stupid pills to keep me comfortable, but I dislike knowing they keep me high half the time. It’s how I’ve felt since I woke that first day. They keep me in a fog, and I’m getting tired of it. “I’m going to stop taking them tomorrow morning.”
She sits up straight, now looking concerned. “No, you need them for the pain,” she utters, running her hand across my bandaged chest.
“It’s not as bad as before. I’ll just take some over-the-counter Motrin. It’s the same thing.”
“It’s not the same,” she argues.
Chuckling at her reaction, I say, “You’re right, it’s not the same. The difference between the two is one isn’t going to make me feel like an addict.”
She sighs as her shoulders slump in defeat knowing how much the fact disgusts me. “You’re right. The last thing I want is a boyfriend who’s addicted to pain pills,” she somberly admits. We both stay silent from the acknowledgment. Wanting to push the dark cloud away, I slowly start gliding my hand up her thigh to help distract us.
“I’ll just stay in with you,” she reiterates, as if it’s going to convince me to change my mind. “Plus, I don’t really want to go to this thing alone.”
“Trey will be there to keep you company,” I answer, but just as quickly she’s looking at me with a wrinkled nose. “I know it’s not the same, but I trust him to not let anything happen to you,” I explain. Her brow arches and her lip skeptically goes up the same time.
“Why do I have the feeling I’m going to be babysitting him more than he would me?” she disputes.
“Is that all that’s bothering you?” I ask, already gliding my hand up inside her thigh. The warmth of her skin against my palm is awakening my dirty mind and my cock begins to stir between my legs. Her flattened lips and saddened demeanor is a distraction from my carnal thoughts.
“You know what? I’m calling them and telling them I can’t go,” she huffs out before attempting to climb off.
I grip her thighs to keep her in place. “As much as I wish you could stay with me tonight, you need to go so you can show them you have nothing to hide,” I inform her. Her shoulders slump forward in defeat once more.
“You’re right,” she admits.
“Just go do what they need you to do and leave an hour later.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay here alone?”
“I’ll miss you, but you can make it up to me when you return.” I empha
size what will be waiting for her by lifting my hips and rubbing my semi-erect cock against the center of her legs.
Rolling her eyes, she says, “No, doctor’s orders. Now, may I please have my bracelet back?” she asks, holding out her hand.
“I want you to earn it,” I answer, giving another lift of my hips to grind up against her while I feather kisses against her lips.
She playfully giggles in return as she replies, “I already did this morning,” as she takes the bracelet from my hand. Remembering exactly what we did, I let out an unsatisfied grumble.
“As I recall, it was you finishing and me who was left hanging.”
She throws her head back and lets out a full-blown laugh as I watch with a smile. When her eyes look back down at me, she clarifies, “The doctor ordered no sex for you, mister. And if I recall, you were not left hanging. It was still standing when I climbed off your face,” she reminds me, holding up her index finger to demonstrate exactly the position my cock was left in.
“Not helping,” I growl, grinding my now fully erect dick back up into her one more time.
“No dry humping, either,” she orders, already climbing off my body.
“I don’t want to wait,” I playfully whine out loud.
“Pity for you,” she replies with a mocking pout.
Wincing, I climb out of bed as quickly as I can to pinch her on the ass, making her yelp. “I’ll remember that in the near future when you’re begging me to make you come.” With her mouth now gaping open, she’s about to protest, but is distracted by a knock at the door.
“The car is down stairs waiting,” Julio says through the door.
“I’m almost done!” Abigail shouts back, already walking into the bathroom. I follow her and stand behind her to flank my arm around her waist. Still going about her business, I watch Abigail through the reflection of the mirror as she fumbles to put on her bracelet. The sight of her in front of me sends me back to one of my most favorite memories with her.
Unspoken Endings Page 16