Present Day

When I arrive at Abby’s place to have breakfast, she opens the door with bleary eyes and slightly slumped shoulders. She didn’t sleep again. And she didn’t let me stay with her. Instead of arguing with her, I hand her the rose I bought for her. She loves that I leave little presents around her office and that I bring her flowers almost daily.

I get it. It’s the simple details that mean so much. I fall in love with her each time I find a note under my mug wishing me a happy day. Abby loves sticky notes and has them in all kinds of shapes and colors. Her new thing is leaving them around with different messages. Last night she left one on my phone: I’m thinking of you. I had a long meeting, and she got me lunch. The note on it said: I missed you. See you at home.

It’s been more than a week since she came home, and we started dating. We’re adjusting, and I’m aware there are things we need to discuss, but every time I see her smile I know that this is working out for both of us. This past Monday we decided to take turns preparing breakfast and dinner. I’ve juggled a few things around, but I’ve kept my promise of not staying at work past six thirty.

“You’re wearing jeans?” She scrunches her nose.

“Casual Friday,” I remind her. “It’s in the manual. Didn’t you read it?”

“Only the important stuff, not the dress code. It’s not like I’m going to go to the office dressed like a harlot.”

“Isn’t that term a little outdated?”

“Maybe.” She shrugs, opening the door wider. “Grandma used it all the time.”

I stop in front of her, leaning forward and giving her a peck on the lips.

“Good morning, Wes,” she smiles at me, giving me a deeper kiss. “I missed you last night.”

“How did you sleep?” I push her eye glass frames away from her nose and run my thumb along the big bags under her eyes.

“Okay, I guess. I might accept your offer to stay with me tonight.” She grins. “We could find new ways to tire me out—without counting.”

We can count how many orgasms you can have before you fall asleep, I want to offer, but instead, I take her into my arms and devour her.

I’m trying to make up for the time we missed. I owe her years of kisses.

“Let’s have breakfast. I have a conference call with Sterling.”

“Why aren’t you meeting him at the office?”

“He’s preoccupied with something important,” she says walking away from me.

“It’s smells great,” I catch her up, pulling her toward me and giving her a quick peck on the lips. “What did you make me?”

Abby’s an amazing cook. It was Mom who initially taught her. In their case, the student surpassed the teacher.

“Don’t get too excited.” She escapes my grip, rolling her eyes.

Damn woman, I just want to touch her and she keeps evading me.

“It’s a quiche I bought at Whole Foods,” she says as she grabs the oven mitts from the kitchen island.

Abby takes the dish out of the oven and sets it on top of the counter.

“I was talking about the coffee, but the quiche looks good too. Would you mind serving me a piece, please?” I waggle my eyebrows hoping she’ll serve me while I set up my computer and start working.

Abby points to the cupboards. “You know where the mugs and the plates are, Ahern. Pour some coffee for me too. I’m going upstairs to change and to send a suggestion to HR. They should make Mondays and Wednesdays casual too … think about it, Ahern. You’d be the most popular boss ever.”

I chuckle and shake my head. If my father knew about casual Fridays, he’d resurrect himself just to fire me. He liked the elegance of a suit. In the early two thousands, against his own beliefs, he changed the dress code to business casual. Switching that trend to casual every other day like Abby suggests would make him roll over in his grave.

I serve our coffee, preparing mine with cream and sugar. Abby takes her first cup of the day black. After setting them on the counter, I begin looking for a spatula to serve the quiche. I exhale, shuffling around the contents of the drawers. Abby’s pantry is neatly organized. Every box and can are put away by size and in alphabetical order. I bet she did this at night because she couldn’t sleep. Her silverware and kitchen tools, however, are every which way. There’s no logic or reasoning to why she does what she does. I’d hoped that since she just moved back it would have been different, but some habits never change.

“Finally,” I say as I snatch the utensil. “Do you need me to organize your kitchen, Lyons?”

“Are you going to start complaining about my drawers, Ahern?” She says as she’s walking down the stairs.

“I’d love to mess with your drawers, baby,” I say with a wide smirk.

“Wes, are you having dirty thoughts about your friend Abby?”

“Are we still friends?” I arch an eyebrow.

“I hope so,” she whispers. “Above everything, I never want to lose our friendship.”

“We won’t,” I promise. “Best friends can become lovers, though.”

I hold my breath for a few beats, waiting for her reaction. We haven’t talked about taking our relationship that far. In fact, I’m not sure if she’s ready at all. She dated a few times while in college, but the relationships never lasted too long. I don’t want to assume anything, but should I?

She closes her eyes, exhaling. “Look, you’re going to have to be super patient with me.”

Abby opens her eyes and gives me a pained look.

Sex, she mouths.

“I don’t have any experience in that arena for a reason, Wes,” she continues.

What happened to you, Abby? I don’t dare ask, instead I try to say something simpler, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“So much has happened to me, Wes. As you know, I freak out when things change. Being together in that way most likely will change our relationship.” She shakes her head. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

She tenses. “What if I have a panic attack in the middle of the act?”

“Hey, I’m here for you. You lead, and you need to remember that nothing will happen unless you want it to, okay?”

She presses her lips together tightly and nods. I begin to work as we eat. I usually arrive at the office between six and seven. In that way I can start the day almost at the same time as the East Coast. If I do that, I’d miss this, sharing breakfast with Abby. I look up to her, smiling at her. Having her by my side has changed a lot of things in just a few days, and I’m happy about it.

When I move my attention from the computer to her, she’s frowning at her empty mug. Without saying a word, I stand up, pour her more coffee, adding a spoon full of sugar with a little milk this time.

“Thank you.” Her lips turn up into a lovely smile. “You didn’t have to; I was just thinking that …”

“Hey, it’s me, your best friend Wes. What do you need?”

“Can we go away for the weekend?” her voice is almost lost.

“Of course, Abby.” I hop back onto the bar stool, open my email app, and start sending a message to my assistant. “Where do you want to go?”

“Tahoe.” She exhales, her sigh softly deflating. It’s as if some of the tension has lifted from her back.

“We’re going to Tahoe, then,” I announce, asking Anita for the plane to be ready at noon. I’d rather arrive early and have a few hours to work facing the lake.

This might be good for Abby. It’s been a long week. She’s been a little more skittish than usual when we’re out. Last weekend we visited the fresh market by Cherry Creek Mall and she kept looking around. It seems like the ghosts from her past follow her everywhere. I wish I knew what’s going on with her.

“By the way, I wanted to ask you for a favor, if it’s possible,” she says quietly.

“Anything for you, Abbs, you know that.”

“Can you get me the police and autopsy reports about Ava’s death?” The hesitation in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

I nod once, studying her face.

“Are you sure you want to know about this?”

“I think so,” she says biting her lip avoiding my gaze.

“Let me see what I can do,” I ignore the quick twist on my gut. This feels like a bad idea.

She shrugs a shoulder, looking at the granite counter. “You know, just whatever you can gather would be helpful.” She squints, pressing her lips together.

I can hear the gears inside her head moving. She’s choosing her words carefully to tell me just what I need to hear while withholding the real reason she wants to go through these documents.

“Maybe they’ll help me find closure,” she finally says, and the tension in her shoulders increases.

“It might not be today, but I can try. Mom can tell you the story,” I suggest.

“Well, you didn’t know about Shaun. Does she?”

I shake my head but in truth, I’m not sure about Mom’s knowledge. Like Abby, they don’t disclose too much information.

“See, that’s why I’m wondering what Corbin told the authorities about me and his children.” She shrugs as if she’s just curious.

Fuck, I’m dying to know the truth.

“Why did you continue to stay with him after your mother died?”

“I don’t know,” she says, lowering her gaze. Her fingers playing with the fork as if it were a baton.

She’s hiding the truth. I’ll let it slide for now. Until she’s comfortable enough, I can’t push her any further. Hopefully, those reports will reveal what she’s been hiding all along. I should find someone to help me search deeper though. I have a bad feeling about this Corbin character.

How was he able to stay at Abby’s house after her mother died? Did she leave him the house? Finally, the puzzle I’ve been trying to build for years is taking shape. She’s beginning to give me the pieces to put it together.

“How long were they married?”

“A little more than a year, my mom fell ill before their one-year anniversary and died not long after,” she says shivering.

“What happened to her?”

“I don’t know; we weren’t close but … I’m sure Corbin knows what happened.” Her voice is cold, detached.

Abby Age Sixteen

Mom didn’t mention her boyfriend Corbin after our first meeting. She disappeared a lot, but as usual, I never knew where to find her. It surprised me when a few months later she announced her impending nuptials.

“We’re going to Vegas.”

For once, my mother’s life excited me. We were going to Vegas. I made a few calculations and wondered if I could get a fake ID and gamble while we were there. If only I had enough money, I could emancipate myself. It was a couple of hours into the planning when I found all the flaws. Even if I learned to count cards, the cameras might catch me. I’d be kicked out of the casinos. If I succeeded, the authorities would want to know how I made that much money—they’d confiscate it or worse—send me to jail.

Then, I came up with a new plan. What if I were to just run away while in Vegas? Even better, what would happen if I ran away now? Since my mother stayed with Corbin almost every night, there wasn’t anything in the house to eat. Not that I cared. I had two part-time jobs: one at the smoothie bar and the other at the diner a few blocks from home.

I didn’t need her anymore. She hadn’t paid the electric bill or the water bill. I did. My savings plan was suffering, but I couldn’t wait to turn eighteen. I’d claim the house and the little money that was part of the trust and kick my mother out.

You can run away and come back when you’re older and stronger. It was a good option, but what if the police found me and brought me back to her. She’d punish me. I decided that running away in Vegas would be safer.

My plan was set into action the next day, when the Stanley family moved into our house. Ava became my roommate. Shaun used the guest room that was just across the hall from mine. I decided to run away once we arrived in Nevada. Except, it turned out, the only ones going away for the weekend were the bride and the groom.

“Shaun will take care of you and Ava,” Mom said.

I can take care of myself, I screamed inside my head.

That night, Ava spoke to me for the first time.

“Stay away from Shaun,” she whispered.

I rolled my eyes. Did she think I had a thing for her brother? The guy creeped me out.

“Where’s your mom?” I asked her, because these strangers were going to be around for longer than I wanted, and I at least wanted to know if they would be leaving every other week to see their mother.

“Dead,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry. How old were you when she died?”

“I was eight,” she sobbed.

My heart squeezed as I heard her crying. It had been almost ten years since she lost her mom. I bet she missed her just as much as I missed my grandmother.

“What happened to her?”

Chills ran through my body when I heard her mumble something like, Dad didn’t need her anymore.

But I shook my head, between her low voice and the sobs I thought I must have misheard what she said.