Penmort Castle (Ghosts and Reincarnation #1)(56)

Abby felt her lip tremble as more silent tears slid down her cheeks.

Mrs. Truman watched her face and then leaned slightly toward her. “After he was gone, I would have paid money to pick up another pair of his dirty socks. Those socks, the blight of my life, became a cherished memory. You forget that they’re just dirty socks on the floor that you have to pick up, Abigail.” She touched Abby’s hand every-so-lightly then took her own away so swiftly it was almost as if the touch never happened. “Now, you’re remembering what it’s like to be with a living, breathing, annoying male who you yell at and who yells at you. It isn’t something that you can mould into a cherished memory because it isn’t in your head. It’s real and it’s happening. And you forgot what it felt like. Now, Abigail, you’re remembering.”

“Mrs. Truman –” Jenny started but the older woman shook her head, not taking her eyes from Abby.

“But you know,” she said softly, “you know something your young man doesn’t. You know that even these fights, that hurt so much they make you cry, are something to cherish.”

Abby stared at her, eyes suddenly dry, body frozen even though her heart was beating a mile-a-minute.

Then Mrs. Truman broke her own spell by clapping her hands.

“Now!” she announced and went on authoritatively, “Tea. And cucumber. You can’t sit down with the upper crust with puffy eyes. You need cucumber and a wet flannel.” She pushed herself up and bustled to the door with the energy of a woman who would never complain about climbing two flights of stairs. “I’ll see to the tea, cucumber and flannel. Jennifer,” she turned and pointed at Jenny, “you take care of the outfit.”

And after issuing her orders, she disappeared out the door.

Leaving Abby with Jenny.

“I think you got some ‘splainin’ to do,” Jenny said, using her best Ricky Ricardo voice, attempting to inject humour where both women knew there was none.

“Jenny, I screwed up,” Abby admitted quietly.

Jenny got out of her crouch and sat on the bed beside Abby, saying on a sigh, “Why does that not surprise me?”

“Jenny!” Abby cried loudly, stung by her friend’s words even though of anyone Jenny knew Abby could screw up, big time.

Jenny turned to her. “Girlfriend, any woman in her right mind would screw up with Cash Fraser. The man is hot. He’s also interesting. He’s also funny. He also looks at you like you painted the Sistine Chapel on your lunch break while wearing a bikini. And let’s not forget, he’s hot.”

“He looks at me like that?” Abby breathed and Jenny lifted a hand to within an inch of Abby’s face and snapped.

“Hello? A little focus?” Jenny asked while dropping her hand and Abby blinked before Jenny continued. “Have you slept with him?”

Abby’s mouth dropped open.

Now Jenny was just plain creeping her out!

“Don’t give me that look,” Jenny warned. “He’s hot. I was in your shoes, I’d sleep with him,” she announced baldly. “How long did you wait?”

“It happened Thursday,” Abby answered.

“You were always slow,” Jenny remarked.

“Jenny!” Abby cried, surprised at her friend’s easy acceptance of these facts. “Do you not see that this is a problem?”

“Yes, I do. Because you let your heart get involved with everything you do. I despair the workmen coming to your house because you’ll make them all your BFFs and end up having to buy them Christmas presents you can’t afford,” Jenny retorted.

“I will not,” Abby returned.

“You will,” Jenny replied and before Abby could get a word in, she went on, “Cash Fraser may be hot and he may be way into you but I’m not certain his heart is involved. And I know you won’t just enjoy yourself for once and keep your heart out of it. This is a problem.”

“He bought me a cashmere robe,” Abby announced and she saw Jenny’s eyes get wide. “And this,” Abby continued, lifting up her wrist to jiggle the diamond bracelet that even after that fight Abby could not bring herself to take off. “That’s why we fought. Because of the bracelet and kind of the robes too.”

Jenny was staring at her wrist but she breathed, “Robes. Plural?”

“Yes, three. Only one cashmere. The other one was silk and the other one –”

“Oh my God,” Jenny whispered, her eyes snapping back to Abby. “Why is he buying you presents? He paid, like, a fortune for you.”

“I don’t know!” Abby cried. “He’s freaking me out; it’s all freaking me out. I can’t keep my head on straight.”

Jenny’s eyes narrowed on her. “You like him.”

“Well, of course I like him!” Abby clipped and shot off the bed, starting to pace then she whipped around and looked at Jenny. “He’s hot.”

“You don’t like him because he’s hot,” Jenny returned.

“You can’t not like him because he’s hot. That’s how hot he is!” Abby cried.

“Oh shit,” Jenny breathed.

“What?” Abby asked.

“He’s good in bed,” Jenny whispered while she stood then pleaded, “Please tell me a man that hot, that rich, that everything is also not good in bed.”