Club Abbott: Pretend You're Mine (Club Abbott Series #1) Read online

  I stuck my lower lip out. “And what did he say?”

  “He said he’s not leaving until he talks to you.”

  I hung my head. “Shit.”

  “Do you want me to call the police?”

  “Do you think it would be in our budget to put his face up under the word “Cheater” in the middle of Times Square?”

  She scrunched her face. “I don’t, unfortunately.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “But I could print some flyers.”

  I smiled. “I’m sure you could.”

  “Well?”

  I scooted my chair back and held out my arms. “How do I look?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Honestly?”

  “Of course.”

  “You still have a rosy glow from our recent visitor.”

  I squinted and raised a finger at her but didn’t say anything.

  She smiled.

  “Send him in,” I said. “And in five minutes, call to remind me about something urgent.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know- make something up.”

  “Okay. Sure.”

  I took a deep breath as I watched her walk out and exhaled through my nose.

  Simon came in a moment later. His wire frame glasses highlighted the dark circles under his eyes and his neck looked thinner than usual. There was really no color in his face to speak of except for his ears, which were bright red. They were always bright red when there was any kind of chill in the air. I used to think it was cute.

  Back when I was a tool.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi.”

  He closed the door behind him and walked towards my desk.

  I thought about telling him to stay standing, but I figured that would only make me more uncomfortable. “Have a seat.”

  He sat down on the edge of the chair across from me.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Well?”

  “We have to talk,” he said, his hands on his knees.

  “Had.”

  He furrowed his brow. “What?”

  “Had to talk.”

  “I don’t understand-”

  “We had to talk before you ever… did this,” I said. “But apparently you weren’t concerned about my feelings then so I have a hard time believing they’re any of your concern now.”

  His lips fell apart.

  “And as far as the things you don’t understand, I don’t have the time or energy to set you straight on all that so-”

  “Carrie-”

  I hated the sound of my name in his mouth, hated it because of how familiar it was, how deceptively soothing. “Why are you here?”

  “Cause we have to work this out.”

  I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair. “When you say work this out, what exactly do you mean?”

  “I mean we have to figure out how to get through this and-”

  “Have you fucked her since I caught you?”

  “This isn’t about her-”

  “Have you?”

  “It’s about us.”

  I slammed my hand on my desk so hard it hurt. “Answer the fucking question.”

  He swallowed.

  I shook my head. “That’s what I thought.”

  “She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

  “I guess she and I have something in common then.”

  “I love you, Carrie.”

  I nodded. “That’s good, Simon. I really appreciate that. When you say such ridiculous things, it makes this a lot easier for me.”

  “It’s true.”

  “You don’t know what love is.”

  “I didn’t until I met you.”

  “So why were you fucking another woman in our bed?” I clasped my hands on the desk. “Can you explain that to me? Cause I’m no expert on relationships, but I’m pretty sure not sleeping with other people is, like, the most important rule.”

  “I know you’re angry, but it was just a mistake.”

  “Oh. Why didn’t you say so? That totally makes it okay.”

  “Carrie c’mon.”

  “How many times?”

  “How many times what?”

  “How many times did you make this mistake?”

  “I came here to talk about our future.”

  I shrugged. “That’s not a legitimate subject. So? How many times?”

  “Twice.”

  A tiny, sad part of me wanted to believe that, but it was overpowered by the fact that I knew it was a lie. What’s more, I was convinced I could never believe another thing that came out of his mouth.

  I mean, if he could say he loved me and do that, he was obviously insane, and there was no reasoning with people who were insane.

  And there was certainly no marrying them.

  I sighed. “And how many women were there?”

  “Just the one.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better or worse?”

  “Neither,” he said, scooting back in his chair. “But it’s the truth.”

  “So were you momentarily insane, or have you been planning on ruining everything for a while now?”

  “I told you,” he said, pulling at his collar with two fingers. “It was a mistake.”

  It hurt to look at him. His eyes used to be my favorite thing, my happy place, and it took a lot of energy to keep from being sucked in by their false sincerity.

  I put my head in my hands for a second and stared at my desk, hoping I might wake up and find that this had all been a bad dream, that I was curled up in his armpit nook a few minutes before his alarm was set to go off.

  And he’d leave early for work, but he’d bring me a tea in bed on his way out and tell me he’d call as soon as he landed in Ft. Lauderdale or Phoenix or Boise or wherever he was flying that day. And I would look forward to hearing his voice again so much that I would check the flight schedule online when I got up to see if his plane was delayed- just in case I could call him for a few minutes and wish him a safe flight.

  And then he would come home to me and we would laugh and make plans and be our best selves with each other forever. Like I wanted, like we wanted.

  But when I looked up he was still sitting there sallow and guilty, probably counting down the minutes until he could go visit one of the sluts he probably kept in all those other cities.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  He furrowed his brow. “What don’t you believe? That it was a mistake? You think I hurt you like this on purpose?”

  “No. I think you’re stupid, not cruel.”

  His lips fell apart.

  I shook my head. “But you’re a pilot for Christ’s sake.”

  “So?”

  “So detailed coordinates and regulations are your life,” I said. “So I think you knew exactly what you were doing, and you’re just sorry you got caught.”

  “I can’t believe you’re prepared to throw everything we have away.”

  I lifted a hand to one of my temples. “Is that really the story you’re going to tell yourself about why we didn’t work out?”

  “You’re not wearing your ring.”

  I glanced down at my hand. “Did you think I would be?”

  He shrugged. “I hoped.”

  I shook my head. “It’s over, Simon.”

  He sighed, his sad face breaking my heart all over again.

  “Go back to your slut.”

  Chapter 16: Ben

  I knocked on the door and waited.

  A moment later, Ella opened it. Her face looked flushed, and there was a stupid grin across it that made me feel glad I knocked.

  “Hi Ben,” she said. “I was just leaving.”

  “I can come back later if-”

  “No, really,” she said, looking over her shoulder at my dad. “He’s all yours.”

  I shook my head. “You guys are disgusting.”

  My dad smiled at Ella. “Bye, honey.”

  “See you later,” she said, her eyebrows
flashing up as she stepped through the door.

  “Looking forward to it,” Will called after her.

  I sighed and went in. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “You didn’t.”

  I closed the door “Good.”

  “Now if you’d been five minutes earlier-”

  “Please,” I said, raising a hand as I took a seat in the chair across from his desk. “More information isn’t necessary.”

  He adjusted his collar and- though I can’t be certain- he may have checked his fly. When he looked up, he was smiling. “I’m glad you stopped by.”

  “Not as glad as you were Ella stopped by, I take it?”

  He nodded. “She is a tough act to-”

  “Swallow?”

  He raised a finger at me. “Watch it.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Anyway,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I wanted to apologize to you about the other day.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “I should’ve been more supportive,” he said, touching his fingers together to form a small dome. “I handled things poorly.”

  “It’s okay.”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s not. You deserve better, especially considering how much you’ve accomplished so far.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So going forward, if there’s anything I can do to help, just ask.”

  I turned an ear towards him. “Does that mean I can call it Club Abbott?”

  He furrowed his brow. “Absolutely not. I told you my decision on that was final-”

  “But-”

  He raised a hand to silence me. “No buts. There’s support and then there’s being careless with my brand.”

  “Come on.”

  “Don’t beg.”

  “I’m not begging, Jesus. I just don’t understand why you can’t see that it would be a good thing for you, too.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. There are lots of things we could do. We could work it out so your special guests get VIP access and a free drink on arrival-”

  “I like that idea, but we can still do that if it’s called Club Ben.”

  I laughed. “Club Ben, huh? Is that your best idea? I thought Christophe’s suggestions were shit.”

  “It was only an example. I didn’t know I was supposed to be brainstorming names for your business.”

  “You’re not. It has a name. You’re just being difficult about it for no reason.”

  “Someday when you have a successful brand, you’ll understand.”

  I sighed.

  “Moving on,” he said, angling his chair towards me and clasping his hands together. “Thank you for talking to Connie.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Whatever you said to her, she’s obviously feeling much better.”

  “Good.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I think I’ll keep my managerial secrets to myself, thank you very much. Kind of like you’re doing with our name.”

  “Fine. Be that way.” He turned and slid his top drawer open. “Speaking of keeping things to yourself, I wanted to get your opinion on something.”

  “Sure.”

  He pulled two ring boxes out of his drawer and put them on the desk between us.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  He summoned me closer with his hand.

  I lifted the chair under me and moved it up beside his desk. “Are those what I think they are?”

  He nodded.

  “Wow. When are you going to do it?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know yet, but I figured I might as well prepare for when the time comes.”

  I nodded towards the boxes. “Let’s see.”

  “This is option number one,” he said, opening the first box.

  “What the fuck, Will?!”

  His face dropped. “What?”

  “I told you to put a ring on it, not a fucking anchor.”

  He furrowed his brow and pulled it out of the box. “Is it too big?”

  I laughed. “Have you even met Ella? It’s not like she has shovels for hands.”

  “I thought it was pretty,” he said. “And that it would do the job.”

  “So would soaking her clothes in your urine, but that would also be a step too far.”

  He squinted at me. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure, Christ! You don’t want her to be attacked in the street!”

  “No. No, I don’t.”

  “A month with that thing on and she’ll look like she’s been doing curls with her left hand all day every day.”

  “Okay. I get it. It’s too big.”

  “Way too big.”

  He slipped it back in the box. “I thought all women wanted a big ass rock?”

  “They do, but that’s excessive.”

  “Perhaps I’ve lost touch.”

  I nodded. “Based on that alone, I’d say you definitely have. If you want to spend that kind of money, get a fucking yacht like a normal billionaire.”

  He shook his head. “Yachts are a bitch to maintain.”

  “So are wives.”

  “Touché.”

  “Anyway, I get what you’re saying about the big ass rock, Will, but I don’t think that applies in your case.”

  “Why not?”

  “Cause when a young couple is broke as fuck, it’s super romantic for a guy to spend a bunch of money on a massive engagement ring. But when money’s no object, it doesn’t mean as much. Just get her a ring she’ll like, something that’s really her.”

  “Something smaller.”

  “Yeah, man.”

  “Don’t call me man.”

  “You know what I mean, though. She’s ridiculously low maintenance. Get her something she can be proud to show off without feeling like all her friends might turn on her.”

  “Maybe you have a point.”

  “Not maybe. Definitely.”

  “Now I’m afraid to show you the other one.”

  “Is it bigger?”

  “No, but you’re still going to think it’s ridiculous.”

  I lifted my chin. “Let’s see it anyway.”

  He opened the box.

  I laughed.

  “It’s too big, too, isn’t it?”

  “It’s too big for LeBron.”

  “Okay. Back to the drawing board.”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” I said. “They’re both gorgeous, but keep in mind that she’ll be wearing it every day. So if she wants to wear her hair up, for example, she’ll need to be able to lift it over her head.”

  “I do like when she wears her hair up.”

  “Go in and ask what the bestselling engagement rings are so you can get back in touch with what a normal diamond looks like.”

  “I don’t want to get her a normal diamond that any schmuck with two months’ worth of paychecks can buy.”

  “I’m not suggesting that’s what you get. I just think you need to recalibrate a little, you know? Use it as a starting point.”

  He looked down at the rings. “Thank god I asked.”

  “Yeah,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “You owe me a yacht.”

  “If she likes a smaller ring, you can have whatever you want.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Can I have Club Abbott as the-”

  “Except that.”

  I sighed.