Thirty Days: Part One (16 page)

“Firstly, who says bedroom partner? That’s weird. What about calling a spade a spade—my only lay, fuck or even the man who forever claimed my virginity.”

He scrunches his face.

“Secondly, you two weirdos talked about my sex life? Dude, that’s gross.”

He blushes.

Holy crap, he’s really embarrassed now.

“Well, it kind of came up when Sammy said you needed a good porking to get over Mike. She then added, ‘Abi’s chastity belt is so ironclad, she will become a lady of many cats before such a day happens.’ So, I kind of assumed from that…”

My mouth gapes open before I snap it shut. “You’ve got to love that girl. She’s hilarious.” I giggle. “Cat lady…”

“I do love her,” he says with a look of rainbows and cotton candy.

“Are you going to marry her?” I blurt out abruptly.

“Yes.” He’s confident, without taking a pause before his reply.

“Wow, Mosby, that’s big.”

“It is.”

“Are you going to walk out on her and break her heart one day, though?”

“No, Abigail, I’m not.”

Silence. I take a moment to think about how huge this really is. Mosby is going to one day ask Sammy to marry him. I want her to be happy, but I don’t think marriage will make her happy. How can it make anybody complete?

“Abigail, are you okay?” Mosby asks, interrupting my thoughts.

“Well, if you do, I’ll kill you. You will become crab feed after I slice you into bite-size bits.”

“Good to know. So much detail, too. You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?”

“From the moment you entered her life.”

His eyes brighten. “I’ll give you no reason, promise.” He places both hands over his chest.

The sound of toast popping ends the conversation.

“Honey or jam?”

“Honey.”

“Juice or tea?”

“Definitely juice. I’m never drinking tea again.”

His brows arch. “Why?” he asks before taking a mouthful of what smells like coffee.

“Because apparently the promise of a cup of tea makes me horny.”

Liquid sprays out from between his teeth. He begins coughing and gasping for air. “What?” he yells between drowning breaths.

“Long story.” I wink. His choking brings back memories of me doing the exact same thing on my Mudslide last night. “Now, now, Jackson, can’t you handle your liquids?” I repeat Marcus’ exact words.

He flips me off before wiping down the bench. “Tea makes you horny, hey?”

“Apparently.” We both laugh.

Mosby sits down beside me, and we eat. Not a word is spoken until the last bite slides down my throat.

“So how do you feel?”

“Better.”

“See, a good laugh is what you needed and breakfast.” He sounds relieved.

“Yeah.”

“How do you feel about last night with your co-worker, now that you’ve gotten that off your chest?”

“Angry—no, pissed off. What I can’t understand is why. Why him? Why now? Why after only just meeting him? That’s fucked up, right?”

“Nope, it’s not.” His words seem believable.

“Are you sure?”

“I know these things.” Rubbing small circles on my back, he says, “Abigail, it will be okay, trust me.”

“You should never trust a person who says trust me.”

He chuckles. “So what’s he like?”

“In bed? Jackson, that’s fowl!”

“No,” he replies with a grin. “What’s he like as a person?”

I sit picturing his face. That scar, his eyes, those lips. The sound of his laughter as his head throws back. “He’s funny.”

“Funny’s good, right?”

“I guess so. He’s also witty and nice. Delicious in a suit or jeans or naked. God, he’s nice. I feel safe, even comfortable in his presence.”

“You’re drooling, Abigail.”

“Am not.”

Mosby slaps my arm gently. “You so are. So what’s he do at the office?”

“He’s an assistant like me. I think he works for one of the other solicitors. He’s not on my floor. That’s all I know about him.”

“Well, maybe just give it time. See where this goes?”

“This is going in the trash where I never have to deal with it again. To him I’m invisible from this moment on. I’d only ruin his life anyway.”

“Whatever, Abigail, just give yourself time, okay?”

Flipping Jackson the bird for the second time this morning, we are interrupted by the same stomping feet that walked these floors last night.

“Quick, she’s heading this way, protect yourself,” Mosby says sarcastically, standing to his feet before dancing a short distance down the hall until he has Sammy in his arms. “Morning, beautiful, I missed you last night.” He swoons, staring deeply into her eyes.

Sammy kisses him passionately, longingly and with need.

“Get a room, you two,” I taunt.

“You,” she scolds, breaking contact and pointing her finger towards me. “Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?”

“Not that I know of.” I shrug.

“Work, Abigail, you need to get ready for fucking work. Trish’s dad has done you a massive favour. I’m not allowing you to screw this up. Get in your car, go home, and get dressed. Turn up to work on time. Do you hear me?”

“Shit! Loud and clear. Pms’ing, are we?”

Her eyes roll. “No, my best friend is pressing my patience, and she needs to get her shit together before I commit her to a bloody mental institution.” Sammy’s voice rises as her statement concludes.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen her this angry at me. Maybe the time I passed out on her front lawn?

“Fine. I’m going.” I put my hands up in surrender. “Where’s my bag and keys?”

“Over there.” She points at the small table by the front door.

“I’m leaving,” I say, collecting my things.

“Good. And call me tonight as soon as you finish work, capiche?”

“Capiche.”

I might have just pushed Ginger a little too far.

Wrath

“Where the hell have you been? Abigail, I’ve just about had enough. I’ve been sick with worry. Physically sick. You’re killing me, you know, killing me.” Mum’s rant, which is filled with fear, anger, and love, greets me as I make my way through the front door. “Why, Abigail? Why must you continue to give me so much stress?” Her eyes glisten with moisture.

Part of me—hell, ninety percent of me wants to lash out at her. I don’t. Instead, I walk towards her and straight into crossed arms that soon wrap around me.

“Abigail, please, petal, stop. Let this go and move on. It’s time. You can’t spend your life bitter and living in the past. Embrace your future and the opportunities it will bring, okay?”

“Okay, Mum, I’ll try. I’m very sorry,” I whisper.

“If you say so.”

Trying to pull my body away from her, she squeezes me one last time, then lets go.

“I need to get ready for work, so I’ll see you tonight?”

She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself further. “Well, I’ve got five days off. Lord knows I need them with a kid like you.”

“Hey, I’m not a kid anymore. I’m twenty-four, completely grown. I can take care of myself.” We stand there, both headstrong, both exhausted.

“You’re almost twenty-five, for starters, but the way you’re acting you would think you were still five years old. You should be out there living, Abi, not in here waiting to die.”

“Dramatic,” I sing the word, making her head shake in response.

“Go to work, Abigail, and come straight home afterwards. You’re grounded.”

Placing both hands over my heart, I mouth the word, “Crushed
.
”
Marcus.

“Work, now,” she scolds.

“Right away.” I salute before the bedroom door closes and operation get to work on time commences. I’m cutting it close. The clock reads 8:30 a.m. It’s never going to happen.

***

Bertha pulls into the car park, barrelling over a small speed bump.

“Fuck, I’m late.” I leap from the car.

The doors of Sims, General, and Klein part, and Asher is standing behind the counter as I clop heavily on my heels.

“Good morning, Abigail.”

“Hi, Asher. I’m late. Jasmine is going to be pissed.”

“Calm down, she’s in a meeting this morning. Here, take these documents and get copies of them. She will never know. I’ll take your bag into your office.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Ash, thank you.”

“Anytime.” Her eyes narrow.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hey, sorry for standing you up last night.”

“Don’t sweat it,” I say reassuringly. “How’s your brother?” I question, passing over my bag.

“He’s fine, a few bumps and bruises. He’ll survive. Brad, my brother, was released around eleven last night. The doctor’s orders were rest and pampering. Mum has it covered.”

“Good to hear. I’m glad he’s okay.”

“So am I. I swear that boy will be the death of my parents.”

I laugh.

“What’s funny?”

“My mum said the same thing to me this morning.”

Asher looks puzzled.

“Long story,” I call out, entering the room where the photocopier is housed. “Please don’t let Marcus come here,” I pray quietly, loading the documents into the machine. He doesn’t come, and I’m relieved.

Jasmine is none the wiser about my tardiness, so the day goes off without a hitch. Well, that is, until four p.m. when she enters my office holding an envelope.

“Abigail, you have done a good job today.”

Praise, really?
“Thank you.” But then I wait for a sarcastic lecture about how she was joking and I actually didn’t perform well at all. It doesn’t come.

Sitting down across from me, she passes the envelope over.

My hands shake as I remove it from her grip. “What’s this? My letter of dismissal?”

Her eyes narrow. “No. Why would you think that?” she questions while straightening her scarf.

“No reason.” I take a moment. I’m strangely relieved that I get to stay. “So what is it?”

“Open it and we will discuss the contents.” She waits patiently.

My shaky fingers tear the seal open. “A plane ticket?” I gasp. Each line of information makes me more confused as I read it, trying to understand that what I’m indeed seeing is correct. “Sydney, departing Sunday afternoon. Why?”

Jasmine takes a long inhale, then places her hands heavily onto the table. As she does this I notice how tired she looks. Maybe her day has been extra hectic.

“Abigail, we need you to assist another one of our solicitors for a week at our Sydney office. We have a big family court case that is being heard, and we need the extra hands.”

“I’ve only been here for two days. Surely I’m underqualified to assist?”
Confusion.

“These are my orders, and travel is part of the job.”

“Since when?”

She doesn’t reply.

“Well, is it for Mr. Sims?”

“No, he does
only
property and contract law. Mr. Klein does family and criminal law, so you will be assisting him.”

“I don’t even know him. Why aren’t his assistants going?”

Jasmine starts to get annoyed by my questions, but I don’t have any idea why I need to go.

“Both have been struck down with influenza and are very sick.”

It dawns on me that this is probably why I haven’t seen Marcus today.
He’s sick
. Or pretending. Fuck, what if he is sick? Maybe I’ll get this flu before the weekend? Should I tell Jasmine? What would I say? So I fucked Marcus last night. You see, I didn’t mention I’m a big whore on my application. That’s because prior to last night I wasn’t one, but now I am, and I’m probably going to be out of action before Sunday. Anyway, if the flu is that bad, find someone else. I shake my head. What a fucking mess!