Chapter 21

Abby:

On my way home from work five days after The Day My World Ended, Again—the sequel—I pull my phone out to check my messages. I have one missed call from Sam, and she left a voicemail. That’s not like her. Usually, if I don’t answer when she calls, she sends a text instead of leaving a voicemail. Actually, come to think of it, she usually just texts instead of calling. I dial my voicemail and wait for the message to play.

“Hi Abby. I know you well enough by now to know you went home after work instead of coming over here. If you’re not here by seven, I’m coming to you.” The sound of Sam hanging up the phone heralds the end of the message, and I stand in shock as the automated voice ran through the menu. I forgot all about going over to her place for Wine and Whine Wednesday. It was a monthly tradition. She and Mags had always hosted it at their apartment, but now that Sam had moved in with her cousin Robby, and by default, the gorgeous Mr. Moore, she was hosting there.

I dart a glance at the clock, and I swear my stomach hits the floor. 6:43. Seventeen minutes to get a car and make a ten-minute drive. I hit the end button and throw the phone into my purse, slip my feet into a pair of ballet flats, and fly down the stairs.

I make it to her place by 7:01 p.m. Her car is still parked out front.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I take a moment to steady my nerves before climbing from my car and entering the lobby. I used to let myself into her and Maggie’s apartment, but when I get to her door, I knock. Just in case the guys are home. “Come in!” Her faint voice drifts through the door. They must not be there. Good. The last thing I want is to be around men tonight. Especially since Sam’s cousin Robby is good friends, and bandmates, with Paul.

I go inside, expecting to find her waiting in the living room, but she isn’t there. In fact, the whole place looks dark, deserted. Is she home? Oh God, what if I only imagined hearing her say “Come in,” and I’ve just walked into Robby’s apartment like I own the place? “Sam?” Do I sound as frantic as I feel? “Sam!”

“Over here!” She calls from behind a curtain at the back of the living room. That’s right, she did tell me her bedroom was just an alcove, didn’t she?

I’m almost to the curtain, when she pulls back the edge and steps out, but she doesn’t let go of the dark blue fabric. “Hey, I need to run out. I… forgot something.”

She’s being weird. “What did you forget?”

Sam hesitates for a minute, then says, “The wine?” But her tone is more of a question than a statement.

“You forgot the wine?” What the hell is going on with her?

She lets go of the curtain and slinks past me to the front door. “Okay, fine, I didn’t forget the wine. I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me!” And then she all but runs out of the apartment, slamming the door shut behind her.

I turn almost in a full circle, surveying the now empty apartment. What the heck am I supposed to do now? Am I supposed to go home or wait here for her to come back? A rustling sound behind me draws my attention, and I turn. “Paul.” He’s kneeling just this side of the blue curtain with a bouquet of lilies in hand, arms outstretched. Suddenly, all I want is to get out of here. He’s clearly got something to say, but I don’t know if I can handle hearing it right now.

“I’m so sorry.”

Okay, that’s a start. I cross my arms over my chest and wait for him to say more.

“I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.” He certainly sounds sincere. And is that a tear slipping out of the corner of one eye?

“Which time?” I ask, unwilling to give up my anger so quickly.

“Both. Either. Any fucking time. You deserve better than that, Abby. Better than me.”

I feel myself softening a little with his words, but I’m not about to let him see that. Yet. “What made you realize that?”

Paul glances away guiltily. “Honestly? Your friend told me what really happened. When we broke up… before.”

My legs feel like they’re about to collapse out from under me at that admission, but I somehow manage to make my way to the nearby bed and sit. Paul pulls himself off the floor and settles next to me, a perfectly safe and respectable distance away from me, but it still makes me want to run for the hills. I’m fully clothed, but I feel more exposed in front of him now than I’ve ever felt. And I’ve actually been naked with this man.

“So, you know…” I trail off.

“That when I walked in on you and that guy, you weren’t cheating on me? Yeah.” He sets the flowers on the nightstand next to him.

I don’t know what to say after that, so I don’t say anything.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was forcing himself on you?” Paul asks gently.

A say the only thing that comes to mind. “Would you have believed me if I had?”

Paul flinches like I’ve just hit him, and I guess I kind of have. But I’m not wrong. Judging from the look of remorse on his face, he must recognize that on some level. “I’m so sorry, Abby. I don’t deserve you. I never deserved you.”

Paul settles gentle hands on my shoulders, urging me to face him. When I turn, he’s so close I can feel his breath on my forehead. Almost in slow motion, he reaches down, grabbing my hands between his own and holding them to his chest. Then he spears me with an expression so intense, I have to look away. Keeping my eyes averted, I visually trace the stitch lines in the quilt beneath us.

“Three years ago, I thought I’d lost you forever, and I was devastated. Friday, I thought I was living my worst moment all over again. I was angry. Angry and vulnerable and determined to prove to myself that I didn’t need you in my life to be happy.” His words are quiet, but I feel them to my core.

Pulling my hands away, still without looking at him, I ask the question weighing on my mind. “Did you? Convince yourself?”

“Not in the slightest.” He sounds as broken as I feel just now. Finally meeting his gaze, I’m surprised to see tears glistening in his soulful brown eyes. “I understand if you can never forgive me.”

I suddenly have the urge to comfort him, and almost before I realize what I’m doing, I reach up to wipe a stray tear from his cheek.

He sighs and swipes at his other eye. “I can be what you need, Abby. I can. What I can’t do is get over you; not in three days, not in three years, not in three hundred years.”

Several slow minutes pass. Then I reach toward him, pulling his body to my own until I’m lying flat and he’s lying over me.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” Paul holds me locked in his gaze.

His eyes are begging me for an answer, a promise. Paul is handling me like he expects me to try to flee, but I’m fully here in this moment, fully forgiving him, and so turned on by his proximity that I wouldn’t dream of running. I lean up and kiss him in answer. “I think I might need you to show me how sorry you are.”