Finding Abigail (12 page)

I woke a few
hours later—starving. I got out of bed and went into the kitchen to make myself
some toast with peanut butter. Flopping on the couch, I munched on my toast, my
problems from the night before popping in my head. I was still upset with Nick
for the way he had snapped me, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it. He was
supposed to come over tonight after his shift at work around ten o’clock, but
now I was thinking I might call to cancel. I just wasn’t in the mood for
company.

The rest of the
day I buried myself in my work. I called Debbie and discussed my plans for the
book, and then dove back in with some of the things we had discussed, including
changing some of the names of the animals she didn’t like.

I was deep into
a scene when I heard a knock at the door. “Come in, it’s open,” I yelled
absently, expecting Sylvia. She sometimes popped in for a cup of coffee, often
carrying a coffee cake or banana bread.

“Hi, am I
interrupting you?” The voice was too deep to be Sylvia’s.

I looked up to
see Nick standing in front of the open door with a brown paper bag in one hand
and a large bouquet of pink roses in the other. “What…Nick, what are you doing
here?” I glanced up at the clock. “It’s only five thirty. I thought you were
off at nine.”

He shut the
door and then made his way over to stand in front of me, his eyes filled with
remorse. “I got off early. I was such a jerk to you last night, I wanted to
come over and make it up to you. I’m so sorry I snapped at you. Can you forgive
me?” he asked, handing me the flowers. I hesitated, remembering how he made me
feel last night. “Come on, I brought you Chinese food. Chow mein and chicken
balls, your favorite.” Setting the bag down on the table, and the flowers on
the couch beside me, he got down on his knees and leaned his forehead against
mine. He smelled of his usual musk. “Please give me a second chance, I’m such a
jerk, and I say stupid things without thinking, you’ll forgive me, right?” He
kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, and eventually my lips. “Do you forgive
me?” he asked again between kisses.

I nodded my
head, and let him take the kiss further—I couldn’t help it, he was so sweet,
kneeling on the floor with the flowers and my favorite food—how could I resist
him?

He stood up,
took my hand in his, and yanked me off the sofa, pulling me into the bedroom.
“Do want to eat, or make up?” he asked, standing in the doorway.

“Well, we
didn’t really have a fight.”

He kissed my
lips again and rubbed my hand with his thumb. My skin tingled in response. “You
were mad. I knew it when you wouldn’t talk to me all the way home.”

“Fine, I was
mad,” I said, leaning up onto my tippy-toes so I could wrap my arms around his
neck. “So dinner later, make up now.”

He grinned,
leaned down, and threw me over his shoulder. I laughed as he carried me into my
room where we made up—twice.

Afterward, I
lay snuggled up beside him with my head on his chest. “I love you, Abby,” he
said in a sigh.

I froze. Tons
of emotions came to mind at once. The strongest was surprise and happiness. I
lifted my head up to look into his eyes, smiled, then said, “Really?” He nodded
his head. “I love you too.” My voice was just above a whisper, filled with
emotion.

A Good Day

“Hold the elevator,” I yelled at Randy, my
neighbor from 2B. I juggled the grocery bags that were filled with food to make
a nice meal for Nick. We had been dating for four months and I wanted to
celebrate. I was in a good mood; I had just gotten an advance from my publisher
after they read the first six chapters of
Sammy’s Adventure
. “Thanks,
Randy,” I said as he held the door for me so I could walk out ahead of him
toward my apartment.

“No problem,” he
called out as he made his way to his door.

Inside, I put
the bags on the kitchen counter and went to work. I decided to make spaghetti
for him, which was one of the few meals I could actually make. Although I was
sure if I really tried, I could cook anything. The problem was, I had no
interest. Cooking took up too much time. It was much faster to open a can or a
carton.

“You’re
cooking?” Nick asked, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his mouth hanging
open in shock.

I tried not to
take offense to his shocked expression. I turned away from the pot of noodles I
was stirring and smirked. “And why is that surprising?”

Laying his
leather briefcase that he kept his reports in onto the table, he came over and
wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me in for a kiss. “Because in the
four months I’ve known you, I’ve only seen you make eggs, bacon, toast, and
frozen dinners.”

I leaned into
him, basking in the warmth of his body. “Why cook when you can order in?” When
the sauce started to bubble, I pulled out of his arms to turn down the burner.
“But tonight I’m celebrating two things. One—I had a good day with my
publisher. And two—today is our four-month anniversary. Don’t worry, it’s no
big deal, I just thought I’d cook.”

Instantly,
guilt flashed over his face. “Honey, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you planned
something special.”

“It’s no big
deal. I told you its just spaghetti.”

“I know, but
you’re so sweet to think of it. But I asked Brian and Debbie over for dinner, I
thought we could order a pizza. There’s a good game on tonight.” He stepped
away from me and opened the fridge.

Disappointment
flowed through me, but left quickly. “Debbie didn’t mention it.”

He reached in
and pulled out a beer. “Brian was going to tell her when he got home. But it’s
okay. I’ll cancel.” His face looked sincere. He was willing to change his
plans, but I knew he didn’t want to.

“No, don’t. We
haven’t spent time with them in a while. It’s great, I made enough for four.”

He grinned,
pulling me in for a quick hug and then letting me go. “Cool, I’ll just go in
and have a shower. Do I still have those jeans and my blue shirt here or did I
take them home?”

As I stirred
the sauce, I answered him absently, half listening to the soft music of Pink
that was playing in the living room. “They’re here. I washed them yesterday.
They’re hanging in my closet.” Placing the spoon on the counter, I turned to
him. “You know, you can bring more clothes over if you want, I don’t mind.
You’re here most nights anyway.”

He came up
behind me and leaned in, kissing the back of my neck, sending tingles along my
skin. “Great. I might just take you up on that. I’d better get moving, they
should be here soon,” he called out, rushing into the bathroom. When the shower
turned on, I had to resist the urge to join him. It wouldn’t look too good if
Debbie and Brian showed up to find us both soaking wet—but satisfied—with no
food to eat. I sighed as I stirred the sauce again. The scent of garlic floated
out of the oven, alerting me that the bread was done.

I had just finished setting the table when
I heard a knock on the door. “Come in, it’s open.”

Nick came out of
the bedroom looking fresh and sexy, his damp hair curling around his collar,
smelling of soap and cologne.

Debbie breezed
in with something in her hand. From where I stood in the kitchen I couldn’t see
what it was. “Hi, what’s that smell? Don’t tell me you cooked.” She headed
straight for the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. Brian
followed her holding a case of beer.

“As a matter of
fact, I
did,” I said. Now that she was closer to me, I saw that she was
holding a square cardboard box in her hand. “You didn’t?” I pointed to the box.

She grinned.
“Oh, yes, I did.”

“When did you
do it? Nick said they just decided after work, that’s not enough time.”

“I made it last
night and I was going to have it for dessert tonight. When Brian told me their
plan, I decided that you needed a fix.”

Pure joy filled
my entire body. “Thank you, it’s been so long since you cut me off.”

Nick, who had
been following the conversation with his head bobbing from Debbie to me like he
was watching a tennis match, raised his hands. “Wait, what the hell are you two
talking about?”

Debbie and I
shared a co-conspiratorial laugh, and then she set the box on the counter and
opened the lid, exposing the most delicious-looking cake ever. “Don’t tell me.”
I lifted my hand to Debbie, who was about to speak. “Three-layered Dutch
chocolate cake with mint chocolate icing. Oh God, I’m in heaven.”

She laughed,
running her fingers along her oversized beaded chain that hung around her neck.
She was wearing a burgundy sweater with a swooping neckline. “I know your
weakness.”

Nick gaped at
me, his brows creased in confusion. “Cake? That’s what you’re going on about?
Cake?”

How could I
explain how good her cakes were? “It’s not just cake. It’s ecstasy on a fork.”

“It’s just
cake,” Nick replied dryly, stepping out of the kitchen and taking a seat at the
table. Brian followed, falling into the chair next to him.

“You won’t say
that once you’ve tried one of Debbie Frankford’s creations,” I explained as I
sat on the other side of him. The plate in front of me was already full. I had
dished them out when I set the table. Once everyone started to eat, I
continued. “When I was Debbie’s roommate in college she used to make these
amazing cakes at home on weekends, and then bring them back for me to try. She
got me hooked, and by the end of our first year, I had put on fifteen pounds.
She had to cut me off. I haven’t had one of her cakes in months.”

Nick glanced at
Debbie. “You like to bake?”

She sighed
heavily. “I love it. It was the hardest decision going into publishing. I had a
dream of opening my own bakery, but I loved books just as much. I decided right
before college which one I wanted.”

“You picked the
right career, because if you had gone to culinary school we never would have
met.” I twirled noodles onto my spoon with my fork.

“Very true, and
I wouldn’t get to read the brilliant novel you brought in today. Seriously,
Cheryl was so excited she couldn’t wait to show Mr. Grayson.”

The music had
changed somehow to Bon Jovi, one of Nick’s favorites. The song was on low which
made conversation doable. Debbie and I discussed our day at the office while
Nick and Brian talked about a case they were working on.

“That was
really good, sweetie,” Nick said, leaning over to touch his lips to mine. He
stood up, carrying his plate into the kitchen. “Oh shit. The game’s about to
start. Brian, hurry up.” He shoved his plate in the dishwasher and slammed it
shut; there was a crash as all the dishes inside shook from the impact. I
glanced at Brian as he started shoveling his food into his mouth.

“Brian!” Debbie
scolded with laughter in her voice.

“What? The
game’s on,” he mumbled, standing up and rushing into the kitchen to put his
plate away. There was no loud crash after he put his dish inside.

Nick was
already sprawled on the couch flicking through the channels.

“
Men
.
What is so exciting about a bunch of guys running around chasing a ball?” I
asked, watching them with interest.

“Don’t ask me.
Come on I’ll help you clear the table since we won’t get any help from them.”
She gestured to Nick and Brian, who were already engrossed in the TV.

As we picked up
the rest of the dishes, Debbie glanced into the living room and spun around
suddenly. “Where’s your desk?” she asked me, her face a cross between shock and
concern.

I forced a
smile. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I put it in the spare room, to make an
office.” I busied myself with the silverware instead of looking at her.

I refused to
make eye contact as she moved closer to me. “It was too crowded in there, not
enough room to relax.” I couldn’t help the quick glance I shot at Nick.

Debbie didn’t
miss the look, and followed my gaze. She scowled but stayed silent. The truth
was, it was our second fight, if you could call the night at his parents’ a
fight, but this definitely was. I didn’t want to move my work into the dreary
room, but he would not let up. I finally agreed just to shut him up.

After we
finished the clean-up, Debbie cut four slices of cake and set them on the
plates I handed her. I made some coffee to go with it. We placed it all onto a
tray and headed into the living room.

I watched Nick
as he absently took a bite of his cake, more focused on the TV than what he was
putting in his mouth. I giggled at his expression. Forgetting the game, he took
another bite. “Holy crap, this is good. It’s the best cake I’ve ever tasted.”
His eyes were glazed as he took another bite, and he closed them as he chewed,
savoring the taste. “Debbie, you definitely chose the wrong career. You could
make a killing selling these.” He swallowed the last bite. “Can I have some
more?” he mumbled with his mouth full, as he handed me his empty dish.