Make Me: A Broke and Beautiful Novel (15 page)

Honey followed her into the sunlit room, Roxy close behind. The guys were nowhere in sight, which only spurred her worry. Ben and Louis didn’t go two feet without the girls if they could help it, meaning her roommates wanted privacy.

Honey climbed onto one of the breakfast stools. “Where did you sleep last night?”

“Um.” She wanted to tell them everything. Maybe not every detail of her night with Russell but enough to reciprocate for all the secrets they’d spilled over the last six months. Something held her back, though. Whether it was the identical sympathetic expressions on her friends’ faces or the fact that she hadn’t spoken to Russell yet, but holding back suddenly felt conducive to survival. “I had some work to do and knew you two would give me a hard time, so I took my laptop out to the pool house. I fell asleep there.”

They were both silent a moment until Roxy finally broke the tension Abby’s lie had created. “Did . . . did Russell sleep there, too?”

When goose bumps broke out along her skin, she was twice as grateful for the long sleeves. “Why are you asking?”

Roxy took the can of Maxwell House from Abby’s hand and performed the task of making coffee since Abby’s had stalled out before even starting. “We’re just trying to figure out why Russell left in such a hurry.” Her friend’s tone was softer than usual, but it detonated like a bomb in the silent kitchen. Not to mention, Abby’s stomach. “He wouldn’t even come inside. Louis had to bring his bag out.”

“He was acting really strange. Even for Russell.” Honey’s joke fell flat along with her attempt at a smile. “We thought maybe you two had a fight.”

“No. We didn’t.”

Abby tried to bring her tone down a few octaves, but it was impossible. Her heart was flattening like a sand castle in a rainstorm.
He left?
She created a mental list of reasons he would leave after the night they’d had, the trust they’d shared, but nothing was good enough. Nothing made sense.

She reached into the cabinet for three coffee cups, indulging the urge to hide her face. “Was there an emergency at the construction site or something?” Even as she asked the hopeful question, she discarded the possibility. He’d left without saying good-bye, and that meant something infinitely worse.

“Ben said he wasn’t in a talking mood.” Honey traded a heavy glance with Roxy, nodded, and dug into her pocket. “He left you a note.”

Abby tried not to lunge across the nook to snatch the note from Honey’s fingers. Instead, she carefully arranged the mugs and casually reached for the folded piece of paper. She could feel her roommates staring at her, so she braced herself to give zero reaction. An almost impossible feat when the note contained only two words.

I’m sorry.

She dropped the note like it was on fire but stooped down quickly to pick it back up, shoving it into the back pocket of her jean shorts. It seemed like someone else was performing the menial tasks. It definitely couldn’t be her when she felt paralyzed. A crater was opening in her chest, burning at the edges, but she couldn’t lift her arms to put out the fire. Russell was sorry. Russell was gone. He regretted last night . . . being with her. What they’d done.

Was there any other explanation? His absence spoke louder than any note ever could. He’d told her, hadn’t he? Since the beginning, he’d told her he wasn’t looking for a permanent relationship, but she hadn’t listened, plugging along like a naïve idiot and trusting everything would work out right. After what he’d said last night in the water, she knew he cared about her, but obviously it ended there. Oh God, had Russell given her a
pity lay
? She wanted to crawl into a small space and never emerge. At least it would keep the fractured organ in her chest in one place instead of spilling out onto the floor like it was attempting to do now.

“Abby.” Honey had moved across the room to lay a hand on Abby’s back. “You know you can talk to us about
anything
, right? We can help with whatever is going on.”

“The way you helped with this weekend away? Because it
didn’t
.” The anger burst from her mouth before she could control it, but guilt had her wanting to stuff it all back in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

Roxy laid her head on Abby’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay to get pissed once in a while. And you’re right, we forced this weekend on you without considering it might make things worse.”

“No. It was sweet.
Really
sweet.” Abby tried to swallow away the tightness in her throat. These were her best friends. The normal behavior here was to have a good old-fashioned girl talk. There was even a chance she would feel marginally better afterward if such a thing were possible when it felt like a war had been fought inside her rib cage. And there it was again, that faithful fear of humiliation. She’d been
ditched
. How could they relate to something so painful? Their boyfriends probably already missed them, while Russell couldn’t get away from her fast enough. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she finished in a whisper.

“Okay,” Honey said, rubbing circles into Abby’s back. “We’ll be here when you’re ready, though.”

I’ll never be ready. I’ll never forget how horrible I feel right now, in this moment.

And in this moment, I never want to see Russell again.

Chapter 16

R
U
SSELL FELT LIKE
an imposter. Not because he was wearing a monkey suit and loafers, waiting for his appointment with the loan officer, scheduled to begin in fifteen minutes. And not because he’d put on his father’s best watch for the first time since it had been bestowed on him. No, he felt like an imposter for functioning. Eating breakfast, driving his truck, inhaling. It was all a giant, fucking sham because he wanted to die.

Since Sunday morning, he’d been alternating between self-loathing and numbness, interspersed with bouts of misery, mostly because he wanted to see Abby. Wanted to kiss any marks he’d left on her body and apologize until his vocal cords gave out. Then he’d remember she very likely hated him and wanted him out of her life, which would inevitably send him back to numbness.

Why was he even bothering with this goddamn bank meeting? Why had he spent the last couple days revamping his entire ten-year business plan, whittling it down to a solid five like Abby had suggested? What did any of his goals matter now that the ultimate one had been removed from his grasp? It was possibly the worst punishment he could devise for himself because if heaven smiled on him, and he was granted the business loan, he still couldn’t have Abby, yet he’d know how
close
he’d come. And that would fuck him up for the rest of his life.
Good.
At least the pain would remind him of her. Now that he wouldn’t see her anymore, he needed all the reminders he could get.

Russell frowned when—out of nowhere—Alec dropped into the chair beside him, tugging at the neck of his dress shirt. “Who the hell designs a shirt with cardboard tucked into the collar? Would you please tell me?”

“You’re supposed to take it out,” Russell answered, barely recognizing his own voice. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Vegas filming the ninja show.”

“
American Ninja Warrior
,” his brother enunciated. “And a man has to have priorities, right? I got all the way to Vegas, suited up for the obstacle course and everything. But in the end, I couldn’t leave you to do this alone. I knew where I needed to be. Right here. With my not-so-little bro.”

“Really?”

Alec blew a sigh at the ceiling. “Nah, man. I got knocked out in the first round.”

Russell wanted to laugh. Or smack Alec on the back. Anything, but he didn’t have the energy. Might never have it again. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Ah, no big deal. Vegas was . . . too big or something.” Alec planted both elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “New York is bigger, but I
know
it. It knows me.” He looked uncomfortable having voiced his feelings. “I couldn’t get back here fast enough, you know?”

Funny enough, Russell did know. He’d felt the same way on the bus ride home from Southampton. Only there’d been a conflicting pull the farther he got from Abby, relentless in its reminder that home was in the other direction.
She
was home. Russell rubbed at his eyes. “Believe it or not, I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t exactly bring my A game.”

“No shit. You didn’t even break my balls over getting knocked out in round one.”

“A lot of men finish prematurely, man. Happens all the time.”

“Fuck you,” Alec said on a hearty laugh, earning him a scowl from the closest bank employee. “Seriously, though. You didn’t sleep on my couch while I was gone, so where’ve you been?” When Russell shook his head in lieu of answering, Alec pressed. “Heard a pretty girl stopped by the apartment looking for you last week.”

Something wrenched in his gut at the mention of that day. Jesus, she’d been so beautiful on his front porch, holding cupcakes. So sweet and unblemished until he’d ruined her. “I’ve been sleeping at the house,” Russell said hoarsely. Which wasn’t a total lie even if he’d been working almost nonstop since returning from the Hamptons. Just another form of self-inflicted torture. Building the house, securing the loan. All for nothing, apart from guaranteeing his misery.

“You think I’m going to let you skip the pretty-girl part?”

Denying her existence seemed infinitely wrong. So did telling one more lie where Abby was concerned. “I lost the pretty girl.”

Bafflement showed on Alec’s face. “So what have you done to get her back?”

“I can’t.” It hurt saying the words. Beyond belief. “There’s no getting her back.”

“What?” Alec appeared to be praying for patience. “Do you have any idea how many times Darcy told me to take a hike when we were dating? If I’d listened to her, I would have hiked to Europe and back by now.”

“This is different.”
I acted like an animal. I didn’t treat her the way she deserves.
“She wouldn’t have been happy with me, anyway. It would have been like—”

“Like Mom. Is that what this is about?” Uncharacteristic sympathy crept into his brother’s eyes. “You think no one has a chance because of what happened? Come on, Russell. You’re supposed to be the smart brother.”

It felt good to experience irritation. At least it was something other than desolation. “You see this bank we’re sitting in? She could walk in here and withdraw enough cash to match the Yankees salary cap.”

Alec sat back in his chair. “Wow. We’re talking four zeroes here?”

“
Four
zer— ” Russell pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me do the talking in this meeting, okay? Seriously.”

“Fine by me.” Alec slid the cardboard insert from inside his collar and tossed it into the small, metal trash can. “Listen, Russell. I, uh . . .”

“What?”

“How was I supposed to know this thing with Mom was messing you up? You never say anything about it.” Alec lowered his voice. “You were the one who was home with her most, you were the one who found her. It makes sense that it would be on your mind more. But you can’t let it change your destiny, man. Your fate is divine.”

Russell sighed. “You’re not an
actual
ninja, Alec.”

Dammit, there was a reason they never spoke about it. There was never a good time to remember the day his mother—already addicted to prescription painkillers—had washed them back with a little too much gin. An accident, they’d called it. But Russell knew the truth. Had witnessed her depression, day in and day out. Brought her the tissue box in whatever room she’d chosen to cry in. The accident wouldn’t have happened if her marriage had been happy. If she’d been content with her house in Queens. Her children.

Russell.

He took a deep breath, working through the memory in stages. Only now, the disturbing images he’d harbored since childhood were laced with visions of Abby, fleeing from him. The realization on her face that she’d gotten into bed with the wrong man. One who could never make her happy. Leaving her alone had been the right thing to do.

But God, it felt wrong. Everything felt
wrong
.

“Mr. Hart?” A female secretary approached the waiting area. “Follow me, please.”

A
BBY
STOOD OUTSIDE
the door of her parents’ Park Avenue high-rise residence, the heels of her sandals sinking into the plush hallway carpeting. It was Friday morning, and she should have been at the office, but that would have been a waste of the full head of steam she’d woken up with. Late last night, she’d finally reached a solution that would make her father’s life work amount to something.
A lot
of something. Not to mention, her idea would save her own sanity in the process. The thought of sitting behind her desk in the silent office made her stomach turn. No, it was time to go see her father.

Her confidence had wavered slightly downstairs when the doorman hadn’t even recognized her face. Or name. Rightly so, since she’d only been to the co-op once for a housewarming party. But it wasn’t normal to feel like a stranger going to see your own parents. Since returning from the Hamptons, she’d felt like a stranger wherever she went. Even in her own apartment, despite Honey’s and Roxy’s attempts to raise her spirits. She’d found herself on the beach in Southampton—found her voice—and now she felt stripped of it.

Like it had never existed at all.

Today, she would get it back, albeit in different manner. She wouldn’t be the footstool propping up her father’s company anymore. A footstool who’d already been divested of one leg, thanks to Russell. The remaining ones were starting to creak, the fabric wearing thin. If she didn’t do something proactive now, she wasn’t sure how long those legs would hold her.

She raised her hand to knock, wondering why her stepmother hadn’t opened the door yet since being that the doorman had rung the apartment to check if Abby was welcome. But it dropped by her side. Why had she gone and thought of Russell? She’d managed to cast him out for the entire morning, sending him to a far corner of her mind, where he couldn’t be as effective. Every time she broke free for a few minutes, a reminder of him would drag her back into the trap. Getting ready for bed last night, she’d refused to go through her nightly routine of checking all the locks. The way Russell always reminded her to do. Then she’d lain there wide-awake for hours, until some responsibility forced her out of bed to complete the task, hearing his voice the entire time.
Pull the latch, angel. It only takes a second. Do it for me, would you?

How could someone who cared so much leave her stranded in hurt like this? She hated him for it even as her mind attempted to pin a reason on why she hadn’t been enough. Why
they
hadn’t been enough to make him happy.

Today, she would be enough for
herself
. She might have an ingrained need to please others, but she’d become a hazard to her own peace of mind. No more. This was her life, and she was done living it for other people. People who were supposed to care about her. Love her.

Abby rapped on the door, the sound echoing in the posh hallway. A few seconds later, a woman in a maid’s uniform opened the door. “Hello. Miss Sullivan?”

“Yes.” The woman stepped aside, and Abby entered the apartment, marveling over how little she recognized in the space. Not one familiar piece of furniture or family photo to be seen. “Is my mother home?”

“Abby.” She turned in time to see her stepmother breeze into the room, elegantly dressed as usual and in the process of ending a cell-phone call. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Sullivan,” the maid said, looking between mother and daughter. “The doorman rang, but you didn’t want to be disturbed. I just thought—”

“She just thought since I’m your daughter, my showing up wouldn’t make you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Although that just about sums up how I feel.” Abby swallowed the weakness in her voice. “I came to see my father.”

The older woman smoothed her skirt. “You know his wishes, Abby.”

“Respectfully, Mother? Every moment of my time this past month has been dedicated to his company. Our
family’s
company. So maybe he doesn’t want to see me, but I’m done giving a shit.”

Satisfied with her stepmother’s dropped jaw, Abby strode toward the staircase, taking them two at a time, not even sure in which room she’d find her father. She’d never even been upstairs. How pathetic was that? The sad realization only reinforced how much of a real home she’d made with Roxy and Honey, unconventional though it might be. It was
hers
. Guilt for not confiding in her roommates clawed its way up her determination, but she set it aside for now. Fix one thing at a time.

She could hear her stepmother downstairs on another phone call, so she started pushing doors open. Empty bedroom. Bathroom. At the final door, her fingers paused on the knob a beat as she braced herself, before nudging it open. And there was her father, sitting at his computerless desk, playing solitaire . . . with actual cards. He didn’t look up as she entered, quietly finishing his game and gathering the cards together in a neat stack. He didn’t meet her gaze until he’d replaced them in the box, tucking the top into the slot with careful hands.

“Haven’t been able to look at the computer screen,” he said, his usually robust voice reminding her of a deflated balloon. “It takes longer this way, but you appreciate the wins more. The doctor says it’s important to recognize small victories. Learn to be content with them.”

Abby fell into the chair opposite her father, noticing not-so-subtle changes in him. He’d lost weight. Let his hair grow past his collar. But the stress that was usually visible around his eyes and mouth was gone. “That’s good. Is it working?”

“Sometimes.”

She nodded, but he didn’t continue. “Why didn’t you want to see me?”

Her question skipped like a stone in the still room, disrupting the air. Last week, she would have apologized for being so indelicate and taken back the blurted words, but she didn’t have the energy or desire for avoidance any longer. Of any kind.

Her father tapped the box of playing cards against the desk’s surface. “I’m embarrassed, Abby. Every day I wake up and get dressed, positive today will be the day I stop relying on my daughter. Putting her through what I went through.” He dropped the card box and folded his hands. “The truth is, I’m too scared. It’s not an easy thing for a man to admit.”

“Thank you for being honest.” A lump formed in her throat. “It’s okay to be scared.”

He turned his attention toward the window. “Not when it’s hurting your family, the way I’m doing.” His breath came out in a slow exhale. “If there was another way to keep the motor running while I figure out how to cope . . . I would do it. None of this is fair to you, Abby, but . . .”

“But you and mother have equal shares in the company.” She waited for him to meet her gaze. “She wants to keep me in your seat because it keeps the company in the family. Bringing in help might jeopardize that.”

Her father leaned back in his chair. “Weeks passed where I could barely decide what I wanted for breakfast. It was hard to gain back the ground I’d lost after that.”

Sympathy had significantly dampened the fire she’d woken with this morning, but she pushed forward, hoping her gut had guided her in the right direction. “Forget about all the pressure and expectations. Forget about what everyone else wants.” She lifted one shoulder. “Do you
want
to go back to work?