ABBY
I KNOW I’M right about this situation with Hank and hold tight to my convictions as he drops me back at my apartment and tells me he hopes he doesn’t have to wait another ten years before our paths cross again. I hold tighter still as I stand by the window in my living room, watching as he throws a leg over his bike and looks up at me one last time before driving off. But with each hour that ticks by, that conviction feels thinner and thinner, like no matter how tightly I hold, it’s already slipped through my fingers.
Sleep becomes an evasive thing, the ache in my heart a persistent reminder of why I should have kept my distance in the first place. Days pass and then a week, and one morning I walk in to find my classroom equipped with a new Smart Board. When I finally break down and go to Novak’s office to ask if Hank sent a note or happened to stop by during the delivery or installation, he looks at me like I’m nuts.
Right.
Of course not.
And it’s good he wasn’t here.
Good. Good. Good.
This is what I wanted.
I tell myself it’s good that Hank is letting things go between us enough times, I almost believe it now.
“Knock, knock?”
“Wilson, what’s up?” I wave him in as I cross back to my chair.
He perches on the opposite side of my desk and starts fiddling with my knickknacks. “You still good for tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.” I haven’t forgotten about the awards banquet, and while there’s a part of me that just wants to hole up in my apartment with a sleeve of cookie dough and my disintegrating copy of Wuthering Heights, getting out with a friend is probably a good idea. “Where and when do you want me to meet you?”
Wilson doesn’t meet my eyes right away. “Actually, it’s in the city. So it makes more sense to ride in together, if you don’t mind. I could pick you up at four thirty?”
“I’ll be ready.”
His next breath sounds relieved and then he’s grinning, heading for the door. Before he leaves, he shoves his hands into his pockets and turns back to me. “I think it’ll be fun, Abs. I’m looking forward to this.”
“You should be.” I’m so excited for him and couldn’t be happier that his hard work is being recognized. “This award is a real honor.”
He looks like he’s about to say something else but my first student arrives, so Wilson shakes his head and smiles. “Four thirty.”
HANK
I’M RESTLESS AND irritable, and even a twelve-hour stint in my favorite lab hasn’t been enough to get my head back on straight. Which is nuts. I love the lab, and I almost never get a chance to play in one anymore. But thanks to it being a Saturday, I’ve had this one mostly to myself for the better part of a day… and I still can’t shake this shitty mood.
It’s been a week and a half since I saw or talked to Abby and I’m as frustrated and edgy as I was pulling away from her place. More so.
I keep thinking about what she said. About the guy I used to be not existing anymore. She’s right. The days of seeing a future that involved a couple of kids and yard big enough to toss a ball in are behind me. The guy who couldn’t wait to marry his girl vanished within a year of losing her. And even if I could bring him back, there isn’t room for that guy in my life the way it is now. My plans aren’t about settling down—they’re about taking off. About making change. About leaving a legacy. It’s why I haven’t called or stopped by her place again. Why I parked down the block from BHS like an ass when those Smart Boards were delivered, debating over and over whether I should just go inside and say hi… before driving back to headquarters and burying myself in my favorite pastime.
Only nothing feels right, and I’m about to put my fist through a wall.
“Mr. Wagner?”
It’s one of the guys from security. I don’t know his name yet and he seems nervous, flustered to be talking to me, so he must be new.
“What can I do for you?”
“There’s a woman here for you, sir. She doesn’t have an appointment but”—he shifts from foot to foot—“she asked if you weren’t too busy, if you might be able to see her anyway.”
I’m always too busy. Free time that doesn’t require a conscious sacrifice hasn’t been a part of my life since my second year at MIT. Only I find myself stepping toward this guy, brow raised, my pulse starting to jump.
“You have a name for her?” I ask, looking back to Jordan who’s working on another machine in the lab. He nods and steps over to the FTIR where I’ve been running a sample.
The guard looks like he’s about to have a heart attack, but he spits it out. “She said it was… A-Annie, sir. I’m sorry I didn’t catch her last name, but she said you know her.”
Didn’t get her last name? This kid is a piece of work, but I’m too busy brushing past him to worry about it. Because if he missed her last name… chances are good he didn’t get the first one right either.
Abby is in my building.
She changed her mind.
I’m shrugging out of my lab coat as I take the corner fast. Visualizing the woman waiting for me. How she’ll have her hair. If she’ll be wearing jeans or a dress. Whether she’s going to let me kiss her right there in the reception area or if I’m going to have to wait until I get her to my office and black the windows. One way or another, I’ll have her mouth beneath mine in a matter of minutes.
Christ, I’m half hard just thinking of her—
The hall spills out into reception and I pull up short, looking back at the guard who’s been double-stepping behind me to keep up, like maybe he’s got a fucking explanation.
Only he’s already told me.
Annie is waiting for me. Not Abby. And the reason he doesn’t know her last name is because it’s Rozhdestvenskij and she doesn’t use it when she models, going instead by Anastasia alone.
“Hank,” she flutters, unfolding from the chair she’s made her small office and drifting toward me wearing that hint of a smile she’s famous for. “My luck, I’ve found you working.”
I wrestle down my disappointment before Annie has a chance to see it and step forward to drop a kiss on her cheek. “Annie, to what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I hope you don’t mind, I drop in without call,” she murmurs, her accent as light as her angles are sharp. “You told me to get in touch next time I am in Chicago, and thank you to canceled connection, I am here until tomorrow morning.”
Annie is a beautiful woman and we’ve had fun together in the past. I haven’t taken her to bed, but in truth, I assumed I would. And based on the way she’s nibbling her bottom lip and peeking at me through her lashes as she lets her fingers trail down my arm from shoulder to wrist, I’m guessing she assumed the same.
Most guys would be creaming their jeans at the prospect, but all I’ve got is this weighty sense of disappointment. Annie’s not the woman I thought was waiting for me, and the idea of seeing her in my bed doesn’t hold much appeal.
“So what do you say, Hank?” She’s stepped closer, her fingers now working their way back up my arm. “Will you let me distract you from all this work for an evening?”
Will I let her distract me? I don’t want to.
I want to go put my fist through my office wall.
I want to call Abby.
I want to get on my bike, take it up to ninety, and pound on her door until—
“Hank?” she asks again, her kohl-lined eyes shifting between mine.
Shit. “I say you’re just the distraction I need, Annie.”
ABBY
I’VE MADE IT nearly four hours without checking my notifications, but now the banquet is over, Wilson’s acceptance speech has been given, and we’re waiting at the intersection for the walk signal so we can cross to the parking garage down the block. Wilson is talking and I’m half listening, but the greater part of me is focused on not taking this moment to reach for my phone and just have a look.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I was the one who told him no, who didn’t want whatever it is Hank thought we might be able to have. So why can’t I get him out of my head? Why do I keep hoping that maybe there will be another totally justifiable reason he’ll need to get in touch with me… and I’ll get to talk to him again?
It’s self-defeating and stupid, and I know better.
The cars rush past and Wilson says something about the chicken dinner.
Even if Hank did call, it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t change anything. Hank isn’t the kind of guy who sticks around. He’s the kind of guy who leaves to conquer new worlds and change the landscape of the one we know. And he’s the kind of guy you want to be doing it, because he cares.
“What did you think, Abs?”
My head snaps around, and I realize Wilson has asked me a question, and on the night he deserves my focus above all others, I haven’t even been listening.
I’m a terrible friend, and I open my mouth to say so, only to have him cut me off.
“Whoa, check out the wheels. That’s one of the new Verge models. I didn’t think they were even selling them yet.” Wilson’s hand is at the small of my back, and he’s eagerly guiding me across the four lanes of stopped traffic toward the other side of the street. I can’t miss the car in question. It’s low and sleek and looks a little like the lovechild of a spaceship and a Lamborghini, but it’s the man standing beside the open passenger door I can’t take my eyes off. He’s helping the woman I’m pretty sure is on the billboard behind me from her seat, but his eyes are locked on mine.
“It’s Wagner,” Wilson whisper-yells into my ear as he propels us closer. “And holy shit, he’s with Anastasia. Did you know they were dating? Can you introduce us?”
It’s one of those moments where time slows to a crawl, the cacophony of Saturday night in the city muffles into a dull roar, and you watch helplessly as the train you’re riding thunders toward an imminent wreck. Hank has seen me. And more than that, he’s seen me see him.
“Umm, I—”
Anastasia leans into Hank, her sheer, asymmetrical dress hinting at the body I’m pretty sure every hetero boy in my classes have screenshotted on their phones. Her long fingers wrapping over his shoulder suggesting an intimacy I wish I’d missed.
This is why he didn’t call.
Hank catches that marauding hand in his and sidesteps into our path. “Hey Abby, thought that was you.”
He’s so casual, meeting me with an easy smile, while I’m about two seconds from needing a paper bag and a dark corner to back into.
Because Hank is on a date… with the most beautiful woman in the world. Officially. She has a magazine cover with the title to prove it. And I’m wearing a dress I bought off the clearance rack three years ago.
It’s grueling.
I swallow my rising panic and muster a tight smile. “Hank.”
This shouldn’t feel like a big deal. He’s on a date. So what? Magazines and celebrity TV have been confronting me with his romantic escapades for years. And heck, it’s been over a week since we agreed to take a step back.
A week.
Totally a reasonable period to get back on that horse. Especially since there hasn’t been anything real going on with the one that threw him.
Hank looks between Wilson and me, his dark stare hardening as it drops to the hand Wilson still has at my back.
“Wilson. Big date tonight, you two?”
My breath rushes out on a nervous laugh.
Wilson’s eyes crank to me, wide with shock, before he looks back to Hank and laughs. “Umm, no, not really. I mean—”
“Wilson won an award tonight. I went with him for the banquet.”
The model holding Hank’s hand looks as bored as I feel uncomfortable.
This can’t go on much longer, only it feels like there must be something that needs to be said to resolve the tension and free us up to go on our way. Words have always been my friend, there and at the ready, but as we stand here occupying this square of sidewalk, my tongue feels like it’s weighted with the same marbles that have taken up residence where my mind used to live.
“Congratulations, Wilson.” Hank releases his model’s hand and slips an arm around her back. She tucks herself in to his side, snuggling closer like she just signed a three-year lease on the space. And I don’t like the unfriendly way seeing it makes me feel.
“Forgive my manners—this is my friend, Annie.”
Wilson is doing that goldfish thing again, but the look on his face is pure delight as he pumps Annie’s hand. “Such a fan of your work.”
He is. I’ve seen her picture on his phone too.
“And we’re a fan of yours. Education is important.” Hank widens his stance on the sidewalk like he’s settling in.
The move draws my eye and I can’t help but catch the details I missed on the first pass. He’s dressed in a charcoal suit that fits him so perfectly, it looks like it was sewn while he was wearing it. Beneath, his black shirt is open at the collar and fitted down his flat stomach.
Hank’s voice drags my attention back up his body to the eyes that are watching mine and the smile that, until this very minute, I’ve always loved. Now it just looks smug. Granted, in an incredibly sexy way, but still.
“Say, Annie and I are just heading in for some dinner. Why don’t you two join us to celebrate Wilson’s big win. My treat.”
I’m already shaking my head, because what in the hell is he thinking? “We just ate. But don’t let us keep you from your date.”
Only then Wilson’s stepping into the divide, his body language transforming two distinct groups into one. “We could stick around for a drink, though, right, Abs? I mean this place is supposed to be nuts, like it’s a two-hour wait for a table even if you get here when the door opens.”
Hank nods, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. “Yeah, Abs, one drink. For old times’ sake.”
Right then, I hate everyone. Wilson, Annie, the couple seated in the window who have no idea what’s transpiring on the other side of the glass. And Hank most of all.
“Why not?” I agree, seeing there’s no way out. “It’ll probably be another ten years before we see each other again.” Though I’m already feeling a cold coming on for that twenty-year reunion.
“You think?” Hank asks dryly, not looking back as he leads our small group into the restaurant. “I don’t remember swearing another oath.”
I stop where I am, momentarily stunned because it’s the first time Hank has brought up the way our relationship ended.
Wilson and Annie don’t notice. Annie because she’s studiously avoiding the conversation, and Wilson because the guy is completely starstruck. But I can’t miss the humor missing from Hank’s words. Or that this is the moment he’s chosen to toss them at me.
Why now?
Why when he’s clearly on a date with another woman? A supermodel rumored to have dated Prince Harry at one time. God, I need to stop reading the tabloids at the checkout.
We’re seated in a semiprivate alcove off the main dining room. Hank is across from me, the both of us quiet as Wilson peppers Annie with questions. Hank’s eyes are on mine, but it isn’t until our drinks are served that he asks, “So this is a first date?”
I cough up the swallow of wine I so desperately needed. I already told him it wasn’t, but the way he’s looking at me, it’s like he’s… jealous.
My eyes cut to Annie and I give myself a mental slap, because get real.
Wilson laughs and pats my back. “Nah, you’ve got it wrong. Abby and I are just friends. Coworkers who help each other out in the plus-one department once in a while. Family weddings, awards banquets. That kind of thing.”
I’m relieved enough by his answer to try for another sip of wine, but then Hank comes back. “But you want more, right? I mean she’s beautiful and funny and that laugh. You know what I mean about that laugh, because I saw you when—”
I choke out, “Hank,” putting an end to this nonsense. He’s done talking, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off Wilson. He hasn’t even blinked.
Turning to Wilson, I try to make light of this madness with a roll of my eyes. “Hey, we ought to be getting back.”
“You haven’t even finished your drink.”
Hank echoes his protest. “Yeah, you haven’t even finished your drink.”
I smile at Annie, who hasn’t looked up from her phone in ten minutes. I don’t smile at Hank. “You’re right. And I’m still dying to hear about you and Annie. What a breathtaking couple you two are together. I bet the press can’t get enough of you.”
Annie’s head comes up and she’s suddenly engaged. “Are they here?” she asks, and then, noting the way Hank’s mouth turns down, rests her hand against his chest. “We’ll just give them a few photos, yes? A couple of questions, but we won’t confirm anything. Should you request additional security at your apartment for tonight?”
Hank blinks, and for once in this nightmare evening, he’s looking anywhere other than at me.
It’s not supposed to hurt.
I have no right to be mad.
Hank is not mine.
But then I’m seeing his hands on her in my mind, hearing her name in that low gravelly way he says mine when his mouth is next to my ear and our bodies are pressed close.
I down half my wine in a single swallow and set the glass gently on the table, despite the way my fingers are shaking.
“Sounds like you guys have some strategizing to do. Annie, it was great to meet you. Hank, good luck with the press and have a wonderful time tonight.”
THE DRIVE BACK to Bearings only takes about forty minutes without the rush-hour traffic and, after a thankfully quiet ride, Wilson pulls up to my apartment. It’s nearly 9:30 and all I want is to escape. Go hide in my apartment and maybe have a little cry.
“Congratulations again on the win tonight,” I say, opening the door. The dome light blinks on overhead, casting the interior in an eerie glow. “See you Monday.”
I start to step out to the curb, but then Wilson’s hand catches mine and he pulls me back in.
“Hey, hold up a minute.”
I sit back and bite my lip, waiting. I’ll die of embarrassment if Wilson asks me if I’m okay about Hank and Annie. He had to see how awkward it was. And after how long we’ve been friends… he had to see how much it was eating at me.
“Wilson, I know tonight was a little crazy, but can we please just—”
His thumb grazes my knuckles, and my words cut off, my eyes snapping to where he is still holding my hand. When I look up, dread spills into my belly, because Wilson is staring at my mouth and in the next breath, he’s moving in.