The Real(74)

Intent on walking past, he reached out and grabbed my coat sleeve in an attempt to stop me, and I rang out a sharp, “no.” His hand instantly retreated, and I met his eyes briefly and my heart plummeted. Unshed tears glistened in his depths and I shook my head.

Tearing myself away—destroyed—I sobbed openly as I sped home. But even behind the safety of my door I was flooded with fresh memories and sank into a puddle behind it. Seconds later Bree appeared from my living room, scorn written all over her features due to my shitty communication. I saw it disappear as she read my face and squat in front of me.

She pulled my earbuds out and gripped the hands resting on top of my knee.

“Abbie, what happened?”

I shook my head, unable to talk. I was too raw, even after so many days of going black. I didn’t have the luxury of being numb.

“Oh, God,” I cried, before she pulled me into her arms and cried with me.





“You look beautiful,” I said to Bree as she traipsed around the hotel dressing room in her vintage wedding dress. A golden butterfly clasp in her hair—a gift from her groom—held up most of her blond locks as the rest flowed in loose curls at the V of her back. It was perfect and perfectly suited for her, just like her groom.

“I’m going to live this bride thing up,” she said as she turned to face me with her hands on her hips. “It’s like prom, but I’m not scared of losing my virginity this time.” She waggled her eyebrows.

“That’s one way of looking at the best day of your life. And you weren’t a virgin at your prom.”

“I was at the one I went to my freshman year, Ms. You’re Judging Me. And I love Anthony. He’s got the best bedside manner of any guy I’ve ever met, a big dick, and today I’m marrying them both. The possibilities are endless.”

I laughed my first full laugh in weeks.

“God, I’m so glad you’re staying in Chicago. I don’t know what I would do if you left.”

She fastened a teardrop diamond earring and spoke to my reflection. “He passed up that job in New York, which would have meant early retirement for me, but I love our life here. He got the shit end of the deal, but he doesn’t care. He’s even living with me in Wicker so I can stay close to you. Thank you for giving him to me.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t give him to you. I introduced you.”

“Same thing. He’s gorgeous and so naughty and perfect. Why didn’t you try for him yourself?”

I plucked a loose rose petal off her bouquet and sniffed it, my eyes threatening to water.

Smell dredges up memory, moron.

“And all I could think of when I met him and spoke to him for the first time was you and how you would get a kick out of his jokes and the fact that he loves to travel. All of the things you would adore about him. It’s weird, right? It was intuition.”

“Well, I’d say it paid off,” she said, turning to look in the mirror.

Not for me.

Intuition was one thing. Confusion still had me reeling. Everything from the moment I stood on that curb at Preston Corp, to the moment I slapped him, and the anger and hurt in Cameron’s features. It was like I’d shot him. Any explanation I could have gotten, I’d screwed myself out of with my anger. And I was still doing it.

“He’ll come back.”

Bree eyed me from the mirror, and I shook my head. “I told you it’s over. There’s no way we’re coming back from that. Any of it.”

“Why can’t you come back?” she challenged. “Why? Because he’s not perfect? He told you he wasn’t. He also told you he wasn’t divorced because of her mental state and kept it from you because he wanted to start fresh with you, not on the end of his horrible marriage. They were your rules.”

“He. Was. Married.”

“She is an addict. And you told me that she did act skittish when you started working for her and throughout. You just got used to her. I work on and with drug addicts every day. Most hide it like professionals. And in case you didn’t know it, there’s an epidemic going on. I’ve called time of death on soccer moms who have had their pain prescriptions taken away and started to shoot up heroin instead. It’s not a fucking joke.”

“I know Kat. I believe that part of it.” I adjusted my dress and whirled on her. “Nope, nuh-uh, we aren’t talking about this today. This is your wedding day,” I reminded.

“And I intend to get married. And it will be perfect, but right now I’m being cruel and distracting myself with your issues so I don’t get nervous. Now, before I go get married, let’s fix you.”

“I don’t want to be fixed.”

“Before you move to finish the final stages of grieving,” she said, turning to look at me, “I only think it’s fair I point out now that this is your man, Abbie.”

Stunned, I looked at her.

“I knew it from the beginning and I am still certain of it, just as I’m sure you’re going to let him go, and it’s going to be the biggest mistake of your life.”

“He was fucking married, Bree. And he was when he slept with me. Am I next?”

Bree walked over the plush gold carpet and stood in front of me.

“Sixty seconds of truth. I mean it, no holding back.”