- Chapter Seven -

Abell

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Nix was silent as we left the florist.

Was she feeling the same distorting bundle of emotions that I was?

Looking down on her, how the winter sun turned her hair into copper, I tried to see into her head. I failed, fucking obviously, but I still tried. Willing myself to become psychic was as likely as her spilling her guts to me.

The incident in that greenhouse had left me stunned. Not the water, not how she'd eaten up the view of me as my shirt soaked through. Nix had listened to my wistful murmur about a damn flower.

She'd listened.

To me.

Only one other person had ever done that.

My jacket was chilly against my bare skin. I'd zipped it up, carrying my damp shirt in a tight ball in the crook of my elbow. Across the street, the mall looked like someone had vomited tinsel and ribbon all over it. Christmas is in the air, I mused.

She was looking at her feet, at the clouds, at anything except me. The car was gone; she noticed, digging out her phone to call the driver back.

“Wait,” I said, waving my hand. Nix froze in mid-dial. “Don't call yet.”

“Why not? We're done out here.”

Flipping my wet shirt at her, she caught it just before it hit the ground. “Not quite, Sugar. You owe me a new, preferably dry, shirt.”

Gripping the soggy fabric, her eyebrows crawled as high as they could. I was waiting for her to argue, I had a whole spiel ready to counter her.

Nix tucked her hair behind her ear, marching over the crosswalk towards the mall. “Nothing too expensive, okay?”

She didn't even try and disagree with me. My sneakers skidded over the pavement behind her. “Are you feeling alright?”

Dodging the seasonal crowd, she held the mall door open for me. “Of course. Why?”

“Well. You're not being difficult, for a change.”

Her lashes fluttered rapidly. “Are you trying to politely call me a bitch?”

Laughing in my throat, I walked ahead of her through the busy mall. “Never say I don't have tact.”

Her heels clicked violently across the hard marble. Under her breath, she muttered, “It's not me being weird, it's you.”

“What was that?” I asked.

“Nothing.” Pulling up short, she grabbed my elbow and tugged me into a store. The sensation of her fingers gripping me lifted a wave of heat through my center. “In here, they have good clothing.”

It was a brightly lit shop, the tall front windows painted with giant gold and black crowns. Cabo Street, I thought, recognizing the store. Nix had good taste, though that didn't shock me.

From the start, she'd made a point of dressing in fine clothing. She was almost obsessed with how she looked, to the neurotic point of fussing over her hair when we'd been fucking.

Even her underwear is classy, I thought, remembering the shiny lavender lingerie.

“Abell, look at this one.” She was fingering the hem of a dark red shirt. As I got closer, she spread it out, showing me the golden design along the arms. “Nice, right?”

Brushing my hand over the material, I nodded. “Soft. I like soft things against my skin.”

She bit the edge of her mouth, her laugh nervous. “Of course you do. Want to try it on?”

“You're the boss.” Unzipping my jacket, I let it fall to the floor. The shop was full of people, and all of them—man and woman alike—stopped to stare at me and my naked chest. I wasn't watching them, though.

I was watching Nix.

Her eyes flew wide, the perfectly addicting pinkness of her blush crawling up her neck. I loved watching that happen. “Abell!” she hissed, raising her arms as if she could hide me from everyone. “Why do you insist on getting naked all the time? Stop!”

Elongating my body, making the muscles in my back ripple, I put on a confused face. “Stop? But everyone seems to be enjoying the view.”

She scanned the crowd, fidgeting when she noticed the girls snapping photos of me. There were some frowns, but mostly, the women were eating me up. It was only Nix that was getting upset.

Holding the red shirt against me like a curtain, she grit her teeth. “Why are you doing this?”

Pointedly, I met her stare. I could see the emotion swirling in her green eyes, and I hoped she could feel even a hint of mine. Why am I doing this? It was a good question, and my answer came out more calmly than it should have. “To make you jealous,” I whispered.

Nix transformed into a statue. Her hands were talons, so tight they might never let go of that shirt. “What?” she asked, breathing the single word out.

“It's true.” Gently, I took the shirt from her, sliding my arms through the sleeves. Around us, people made noises of disappointment. The show was over; in minutes the shoppers dispersed, leaving Nix and I alone among the racks.

Her hands still hovered in the air, fingers bent. I had the terrible suspicion that she was getting ready to claw my eyes out. Instead, she let her arms drift to her hips limply. “Why would you mess with me like that?” she asked.

Slipping into my jacket, I zipped the front. “I'm not. Isn't it obvious that I like you?”

“You don't like me,” she laughed, acid coating her tongue. “You just want to use me. I'm another pair of walking tits to you, only these tits are dragging access to your cash behind them like a ball and chain. That's what you want from me.”

I steadied myself. Her words were harsh, but she wasn't entirely wrong. “Nix—”

“Stop.” There was a rawness in her voice. Were her eyes wet? She turned away, her fire and ice armor returning. “Don't play with me. I don't have time for it.”

Reaching out, I clasped her shoulder. She started to wrench away, but I held her firm. “Listen to me,” I said. “Whether you're right or not, what I said wasn't a lie. Making you jealous, making you ache for me and only me... I love it. I can't get enough of you.”

She went stiff, twisting to gawk up at me. Her pupils were glossy, darker than an undiscovered galaxy. She was seeing me, actually seeing me. If this moment could last, I'd stand among those racks of pressed jeans and soft shirts forever.

But it couldn't.

My life didn't mix well with romance.

Nix backed away, hesitating. Whatever she'd been about to say, she stopped herself. “The shirt,” she mumbled. “Let's go take care of that.”

Plucking at the front of the material, I smiled cynically. “Yeah. I guess that's what's important here.”

There was hurt in her eyes, I fucking saw it. But I couldn't call her out, I couldn't do anything. Nix considered me a player, and she hated everything that word stood for. Why was I letting myself get all torn up over her?

What the hell was I doing?

Trying to keep my lifestyle. I need her to want me for that to happen.

No. That wasn't true anymore. She'd agreed to marry me, and all I had to do was promise I wouldn't try and sleep with her.

That would be easy, I had plenty of other people who'd indulge me.

Why was I wasting air getting so flustered over this woman?

Nix walked beside me, her wallet tucking into her purse as we exited the store. The chaotic noise of the busy mall slammed into me. The air smelled like cinnamon and hot chocolate.

Through the chorus of sounds, I heard Nix's stomach rumble.

Peeking down at her, I scanned the mall. “Hey,” I said, pointing. “I'm starving, let's get some ice cream.”

She blinked, but her lips turned up into a smile. “Really? Ice cream in winter?”

“It's hot enough in here.”

The mood between us lightened. Nix nodded, leading the way. “That actually sounds really good.”

The line was short; people probably had the same thought Nix had about ice cream and the time of year. “I'll take a lemon cone,” I said, pulling out my wallet. “And give her whatever she wants.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Vanilla. In a cup, please.”

The clerk rang us up, handing the treats over. “That'll be five dollars.”

“Don't say I never spoiled you,” I chuckled at Nix.

The pearly shine of her teeth went ever brighter under the Christmas lights. “Oho, big spender.”

Carrying our snacks, I led her up the escalator until we found a far corner of the mall. The ceiling arched high above, ornaments dangling on gold chains and twinkling with their reds and silvers.

Sitting on the bench, I licked my ice cream. It was a burst of tartness on my tongue. “Man, that's good.”

“It's pretty amazing,” she sighed. “I love desserts. My mother hates that I love them, which makes me like them more.” Her smile was contagious. “Hey, I have something I wanted to ask you.”

“Shoot.” I nibbled the edge of the waffle cone.

“Your dad is having that Christmas party this weekend. Right?”

My back popped as I sat taller. “Wait, were you invited to that catastrophe?”

“Apparently. Is it going to be that terrible?”

Not once had I attended my father's company parties. But if Nix was going... “That depends. Will you be wearing something holiday themed, like a cocktail dress made of mistletoe?”

Her laugh was a shot of espresso into my nervous system. “If that's what it takes to salvage the party, I'll consider it. Are you... you know, going to be there?” Ducking her head, she stared intently into her ice cream.

“I might swing by.” Winking, I turned the cone in my hand. “Is that what you wanted to ask me? If I was going? Baby, you don't need to be so subtle, come right out and say you wanted me by your side.”

Chewing her bottom lip, she shifted on the bench. “Actually, I was going to ask if my brother could come.”

A drop of melted lemon hit my knee. “You have a brother?”

“Half-brother, but yeah. Gram works at Halloway Inc. You didn't meet him yet?”

My shrug was quick. “Huh. Older or younger than you?”

“Why does that matter?”

I reached over, dipping my finger into her ice cream, then licking it off. “I want to know if he's a puppy-dog younger brother, or the older type that will try to kick my ass when he hears that I hooked up with his sweet sister.”

She hit me in the shoulder. “That's none of his business, don't you dare tell him. He wouldn't hurt a fly, anyway.”

Grinning, I wiped my hand on my napkin. “What, you're saying he never chased off any guys when you were younger?”

“No.” She hesitated, turning the yellow spoon in her fingers. “He didn't have the chance. I didn't meet him until I was eighteen.”

“What?”

Staring into her cup, she stirred the vanilla slowly. Her voice was far away. “It was a huge shock when he showed up. Turns out Dad hadn't been so faithful. My mother went nuts. Attacked him, screamed, the whole works.”

Disgust bit deep into my heart. A father who betrayed his family? Yeah. I knew that story.

Nix was shrinking into the bench, knees tucking to her chest. She looked like she was trying to disappear. Reaching out, I cupped her knee—she twitched.

“It's alright,” I said gently.

Her face smoothed, as if I'd comforted her. “I don't know why I'm telling you this.”

“You don't have to.”

“I know. I just... I guess it feels good to share it, finally.” Switching her crossed ankles, she smiled at me sadly. “My mother hates Gram. Right from the start, it was like she wanted to wish him out of existence.”

“Why does he work at your company, if she hates him so much?”

“That was Dad's decision. I guess he felt guilty for hiding Gram away, ignoring him. That doesn't stop him from treating Gram like he's a living scarlet letter, though, when he's the one who fucked up.”

“That's terrible,” I said softly.

She watched me, as if trying to believe my sympathy. “Now we get to pretend to be one big, happy family. Mom despises Dad for cheating on her, but she refuses to divorce and let the world see their sham marriage for what it is. He can't leave her because he's weak. Gram just tries to stay invisible.”

“And you?”

Her eyebrows lowered. “Me? I do what they want. I always have. Taking care of what they ask me to... it's all I'm good for. Even now.”

The memory of her talking in her sleep stabbed me. That night, she'd mumbled something similar.

A life of doing what people want you to do. That was the life I'd run from. Nix had stayed.

Both of us were fucked up.

Which path is better? Running, or being a martyr?

Standing, she headed towards a trashcan. “This is all melted, I'll be right back.” The stiffness in her shoulders was obvious, even from behind.

She put up with all of that? Her and I had much more in common than I ever realized.

“Abram,” I said when she sat beside me again.

“What?”

“My name. My father still calls me it, even though I hate it, because that's the kind of man he is. He wanted me to become a grand, powerful leader of his company. But that's not me. It never could be.” My smile was cold as a corpse. “He was never good at hiding his disappointment.”

Nix furrowed her brow, and I had to wonder what was going on behind her lovely eyes. “Is that why you... do what you do?”

I didn't want her looking at me like that. I wasn't some victim, I didn't need to be psychoanalyzed.

Smiling as wide as I could, I pushed myself to my feet. “Who knows! I just wanted you to see we share the fun tradition of nick-names. Come on, let's get out of here.”

Tradition. Hah. Calling myself Abell had been about sticking it to my father, claiming something for myself. Nothing I'd done growing up had been good enough for him.

But Nix was wrong.

The final straw that led me into debauchery had been something else entirely.

That day in the hospital was a brutal memory. I never wanted to think about it again, and the only way to run from the moment where I'd finally discovered the cruelty of the world, was to bury myself in throbbing flesh and forgettable faces. I didn't want clarity, I wanted to drink and fuck.

I wanted to not care.

My talent is not giving a shit.

Except Nix had proven that wrong about me.

She was proving everything wrong about me.

As we exited the mall together, I felt her staring. I didn't dare look down at her.

I was too afraid of the pity in her eyes.