Chapter 23

The elevator pinged, and all heads turned towards the entrance as Najay waltzed towards the kitchen in all her bold, confident beauty. As her eyes met Abigail’s, her smile grew even wider, but Abigail dropped eye contact.

Najay was taken back, but she didn’t read too much into it. She plopped her bottom on a stool by the island and threw her bag to the ground.

“I have had the longest day! I need food . . . Hey, Theodore. Hey, Angela.”

“Hi, love. I’m making beef stew and garlic rolls, and for dessert, apple pie,” Angela told her as she slid around the kitchen.

Najay beamed. “Sounds great. And when did you start baking?”

“She didn’t,” Theodore chuckled, not taking his gaze from his newspaper. “I brought the pie from work.”

“Ah. That explains it.”

They shared a laugh, but oddly, Abigail’s lips didn’t even twitch.

Najay shared a look with Theodore, silently asking him what was wrong with Abigail. Theodore shrugged. She had been like this since she came home, only telling him of Najay’s visit before locking herself in her room.

Theodore figured that he’d let her be, thinking it was probably her time of the month. But they could both see that it was much more than that. Something or someone provoked her.

“Hey, Abi. What’s so interesting on your phone?” Najay asked, trying to initiate conversation. Still, Abigail only shrugged.

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Najay reached for her phone. “Let me see—”

“I said it’s nothing!”

Najay froze, and soon she noticed that the others mimicked her expression.

“Okay,” Najay’s face was void of humour, “what’s going on? Did something upset you?”

For the first time since Najay arrived, Abigail met her gaze. “Can we talk? Alone?”

“Of course.” Najay followed Abigail to the lounge room, heart slamming against her chest as she waited for her friend to gather her thoughts.

In the two years Najay had known Abigail, she had seen her upset numerous times. But this . . . this seemed aimed at her, and it unnerved her. What could she have done to upset Abigail?

“Earlier today, you said you had something to tell me. What was it?” Abigail asked.

Najay racked her thoughts, trying to remember. “Oh right,” she chuckled, fiddling with her hands. “I was um. . . It’s funny, really.”

“Did you date Nicholas?” Abigail came right out and said it. Najay snapped her head towards Abigail, stunned by the accusation.

“What? Abigail, are you out of your mind?”

“Are you? I mean, what else could you be so nervous to tell me!”

“I didn’t date him!” Najay’s eyes remained wide, probing Abigail to believe her. “How could you accuse me of something like that? He’s the guy who tortured you for two years, Abigail. Even when he was in jail, he still got in your head. And you really think I’d date that motherfucker?”

Abigail shook her head. “I don’t want to believe that you did. I don’t, actually. But . . . you talked to him. Didn’t you?”

Najay sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “He came by the apartment a lot. I couldn’t get rid of him. He . . . he tried to seduce me.”

Najay observed Abigail, watching the flicker of her fingers and the twitch in her eyes.

“And did he succeed?”

“Of course not!” She scoffed. “I admit, I . . . let him inside—”

“Oh my gosh!”

“—but only because people were watching, and I had to get it in his solid, psychotic head that I would never do that. He tried to get to me, to make you jealous or for some sick reason. But Abigail, you have to believe me.”

Abigail studied Najay for two years. She knew when her friend was being truthful or deceitful. Now, she was torn between the two. Najay told the truth in some sense, yet she hid something.

“What happened when you went inside?”

Najay gazed at her. “You still don’t believe me.”

“You aren’t entirely honest, Najay! I can tell.”

“What do you want me to say?” Najay asked, throwing her arms in the air. “Do you want me to admit to something I didn’t do?”

“No, Najay. I want you to tell me what you did. Not what you didn’t do.”

Najay studied her further, perhaps trying to pinpoint where her doubt stemmed.

“Who told you this?”

Abigail raised a questioning brow. “Does it matter?”

“Yes, because you know that Nicholas is a pathological liar, Abi. You of all people know this.”

Najay pleaded with her eyes for Abigail to listen to her—to believe her. But Abigail only focused on one single fact.

She stepped closer to her friend, wearing nothing but a poker face as she said, “If you haven’t been with Nicholas, how would you know that he’s the one who even gave me this information?”

Najay stumbled, seeing where she might’ve slipped. Abigail said nothing of who even told her this, and though it wasn’t Nicholas, Najay was so sure that it was.

“Abigail, who else would fill your head with these lies? I only went for the obvious culprit.”

Even with this, Abigail avoided her statement. “What are you hiding from me, Najay? I knew you didn’t date him. But did you sleep with him? Kiss him?”

“Oh my gosh.” Najay stood, her mouth ajar and her eyes watering. “You really think I’d stoop so low? That I’d betray my best friend!” The tears finally came, yet Abigail’s foundation stood firm. “I’m withholding the complete truth to protect you! But this . . . this is too much.”

Najay stomped towards the kitchen, grabbing her bag without saying anything else to Theodore or Angela, who undoubtedly heard a lot.

“So you admit that you are hiding something?” Abigail asked, trailing behind Najay.

Najay jabbed the elevator button, swerving around to meet Abigail’s blazing, accusing eyes. “Yes, I am hiding something. And even though I am hurt, angry and tired, I will continue to hide it because I still care about your paranoid, ungrateful ass.”

The elevator welcomed Najay. She poked the button for the lobby, facing Abigail again as tears stung her eyes.

“You know, I had always known that you don’t trust me. You let me in, but your mistrust and paranoia will be your downfall, Abigail. I get it. You’ve been wronged over and over again. But if you seek for the worst in people then jump on the hate train at the slightest slip-up, you’ll spend the rest of your life lonely and miserable, always looking over your back because you think the world is against you. Well, news flash, Abigail, people care! And not everything is out to get you.

“I’m probably a hypocrite for saying this because I didn’t trust his intentions. But you almost lost your job because you were so certain that Seymour would bend your hand into marriage. You ran away because you thought he’d throw you over his shoulders and force you to the altar. You keep everyone at arm’s length and constantly keep a wall between yourself and society. You’re healing, and I get that, Abi. I do. You endured far too much, and you have all right to be mistrusting.” Najay swiped her snot away with the back of her hand. “But me? I love you, Abigail! I wouldn’t. . . You know what?” she chuckled, but it was void of humour. “I won’t waste another breath. Believe what you want to believe. I am done.”

Her eyes flickered behind Abigail, where she pointed in the direction of the kitchen. “That man? You better hold onto him. Don’t make the same mistake you made with me. Because then, you’d surely be lonely.”

And with that, Najay stepped away from the sensors, allowing the door to close.

Abigail sighed, squeezing her eyes shut and burying her face in her hands.

She finally did it. She drove Najay away, and all it took was for Nicholas to get into her head. This was his plan all along, wasn’t it? He knew Camille couldn’t keep her mouth shut and used her to turn Abigail against Najay.

That only begged the question: did he know about Theodore and plan to do the same with him?

Abigail gazed over her shoulder. Theodore stood at the kitchen entrance, hands tucked in his pocket, staring at her in utmost sympathy. Her own tears finally fell, and she dashed across the room into his arms.

Theodore didn’t hear much, but he heard enough. He dreaded to know if Nicholas had been audacious enough to approach Abigail, but he didn’t want to ruin her mood even more.

They stayed like that for a few minutes. Abigail needed to cry, and Theodore simply had to be there for her.

Soon after Najay left, Angela did the same after placing their dinner in the microwave. Abigail had no appetite, and neither did Theodore. He continued to whisper sweet nothings in her ear and caressed each part of her body that his hands could reach.

“Hey, tell you what?” he asked, pulling away to meet her eyes. “Why don’t I go run us a bubble bath, and we can just relax. Sounds good?”

Abigail nodded with a sniffle. “Sounds great.”

Theodore pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead before leaving, and Abigail got comfortable on the couch as she waited.

She closed her eyes, feeling the fatigue of the day and the entire fight finally dawning on her. She was dozing off when the elevator made another ping. Jolting up, Abigail swerved in the direction of the elevator.

“Najay?” she asked, eager that her friend had returned. Except, it wasn’t Najay at all.

Abigail squinted her eyes, sure that she had seen this woman before, but couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Who the bloody hell are you?” the woman asked, her voice dripping in a thick, English accent.

Abigail stumbled, raising an eyebrow as she perched her hand on her hip.

“I would ask the same thing.”

The woman—whoever she was—shot Abigail a nasty glare, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she took a threatening step towards Abigail.

“I’m the—”

“Cleo?” Both women’s heads turned in the direction of the hallway as Theodore appeared with two bottles of scented soap in his hands, gazing as if he saw a ghost.

But all Abigail could hear was the woman’s name. Cleo. This was Cleo.

And by her reaction and sudden appearance, Abigail couldn’t help but think that Cleo was still very much Theodore’s girlfriend too.

In a moment when the world felt like it had stopped spinning—as time had ceased to exist, Abigail froze in her spot.

Abigail gazed at the woman whose big, green eyes watched her with nothing but mere curiosity. The vivid memory of the woman on Theodore’s phone resurfaced in Abigail’s mind. Cleo was even more perfect in real life. Her brown hair fell to her waist in luscious curls. Of course, she wore extensions, but that didn’t take away from her natural beauty that Abigail was sure sat beneath all her makeup.

They could almost hear Theodore’s heart racing from where they stood. Silence reigned in the room for a minute or two. Abigail was the first to walk away, not sparing another glance in Cleo’s or Theodore’s direction. But it was when she moved Cleo found it fit to finally speak.

“Theo, who is this?” she asked, and Abigail stopped dead in her tracks, throwing a glare in Theodore’s direction. But it was evident that he tried to avoid eye contact.

Abigail could feel her heart shatter as if someone stabbed an acid-dipped dagger in her chest. Cleo glanced between Theodore and Abigail as if she caught them with their hand in the cookie jar.

What annoyed Theodore the most was that the doorman didn’t even inform him that someone was coming up. But then again, everyone had always been a tad scared of Cleo. Perhaps it was the scary arch of her brow, her eyes that bled your soul, or the very sharpness of her voice and gaze that had anyone flinching. However, no matter how much she tried to intimidate Abigail with her glare, Abigail stood firm.

Deep down, Abigail’s entire foundation crumbled, but she refused to allow Cleo to see this. It was the first time they officially met. Somehow, Abigail knew the day would come. She simply didn’t think it would be like this.

And Theodore. His insistence on keeping his eyes trained on Cleo only tore Abigail between two possibilities: was he so intrigued to see her? Or was it that he still didn’t believe she was here. Still, was that in a good way or bad?

“What are you doing here, Cleo?” Theodore asked through gritted teeth.

Cleo stumbled a bit. “Well, excuse me for rushing home on such short notice. One second, I’m designing the dress of the century. Then another second, I get a random call from someone— God knows who— telling me that my man is sauntering around the city with a stripper!” She allowed the handle of her hot pink suitcase to fall in its holder. For a quick second, Abigail almost face-palmed, knowing exactly who that would be. “It got me thinking, could this be the same stripper you told me about?”

Abigail’s head snapped so fast towards Theodore that it almost gave her whiplash. “Wow . . .” She shook her head, her eyes stinging and her hands trembling at her sides. “You told her I was your stripper?”

“No!” he quickly defended, closing his eyes. “Well, yes, but that was—”

“Theodore, sweetheart . . .” Cleo’s hips swayed with each slow step she took towards Theodore. His face remained stoic, watching her every move—her hands in particular as they rose to touch his chest. “Why are you trying to protect her feelings? You told me that she was just your stripper, and I have nothing to worry about. I mean, of course, a few weeks ago, you sent me that ridiculous, audacious message. But I forgive you for your idiocy. You missed me, and I get that. But walking around every day with her on your arm?” Cleo sent a nasty glare in Abigail’s direction. “I had to come and save you the misery of being away from me.”

“I think I was firm in my message, Cleo.” Theodore threw her hands away from his body. “And you have no right to come here, acting as if you own me. We might be friends, but don’t get it twisted in your messed up mind for one second that you have some claim on me.”

Instead of Theodore’s expected reaction, Cleo threw her head back with a laugh. “Oh, my sweet, sweet, Theo. I leave for Paris for six months and—”

“Let me get this in your thick skull,” he said through gritted teeth, hands shaking in his own rage. “I—”

“No, Theodore!” She cut him yet again. “You listen to me. Since you were a little boy pining over your daddy’s company, I have been by your side. I’ve helped you rise to the top, and I won’t stand by and watch you make some . . . some hooker take that away from us!”

“Watch your mouth, woman!” Theodore’s steady finger pointed towards her face, his eyes blazing and his entire form shaking. Abigail never thought she had seen him this angry before, yet, she didn’t feel flattered by how he defended her. She couldn’t. “You do not come into my house and talk about her like that. Do you hear me?”

“Her!” Cleo shrieked. “Look at her, Theo! She’s a bloody gold digger!”

“This is ridiculous.” Having heard enough, Abigail stomped past them towards the hallway, leaving them in their aimless back and forth. Cleo mumbled something unclear under her breath, but Abigail kept walking.

Theodore’s heavy steps behind her caused her to move even quicker, slamming the door behind her when she entered the guest room. Tears fell on her duffle bag as she shoved pieces of clothing in it, even the ones discarded on the ground from her and Theodore’s special morning moments. With each strip of underwear she grabbed, the gnawing at her mind that told her she was a fool made it even harder to pack. But she had to.

She had to get out.

Having finally got the door open, Theodore tried to pry the bag from Abigail’s shaking hands.

“Theodore, leave me alone.” The words tumbled from her lips softer than she wanted. The truth was, as hurt as she was, Abigail didn’t want him to leave, and she hated herself for it.

“No, Abigail. Listen to me, please.”

“What, Theodore? What could you possibly say to me right now?” Abigail shrugged his hand away from her shoulder, crossing the room to grab her shoes from the closet, leaving the pair he bought her, though it was now her favourite.

Theodore grabbed her hand again, this time refusing to let go when she tried to wriggle from his grasp. When Abigail met his eyes, she felt her heart melt but quickly forced it to harden again. This is what he does. He lures her in with his gazes that made her feel like she was the only woman in his heart when in truth, he had Cleo all along. And Abigail? Well, she was just his stripper.

“I broke up with her,” he told her, eagerly wanting her to stop fighting him. “From the second I knew I had feelings for you, I ended things with Cleo. I told you, Abigail. I don’t love her. She was only—”

“An option for when or if you ever wanted to get married. I remember, Theodore. And if you broke up with her, why is she still here?”

His hand fell from her arm and rose to his face as he heaved out a sigh. Abigail waited patiently for his answer, but it was evident that even he didn’t know the answer.

“You told her I was your stripper.” Despite everything tonight, this hurt Abigail the most. She knew it was only the truth, which made it hurt even more.

No matter what relationship they share, on paper, she was still his stripper until the end of the semester.

“Abigail . . .” Theodore sighed. “I . . . Word spreads fast in my world, and a few months ago, someone informed her of your current visits. I dealt with it. I don’t like people pushing their noses where they don’t belong.”

“And Cleo?”

“I reminded her that I was free to do what I wanted with who I wanted. She got antsy nonetheless, and I . . .”

“Told her I was your stripper.” Abigail couldn’t recognize her voice. It was frail, broken and almost inaudible. She didn’t want to utter another word. Her embarrassment wouldn’t allow her to.

“It’s not like that, okay? At the time, we were still strict on our terms. No touching, no feelings involved. Of course, my intentions were the same. I just wanted you out of harm’s way. But I didn’t feel the way I feel about you now. You have you understand that—”

“It still doesn’t explain why she’s here, silently telling me I don’t belong in your world. And you know what?” She laughed, but it had no humour behind it. “She’s right. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

Abigail snapped the zipper on her bag shut, grabbed her coat and shoved her feet in her worn sandals.

Theodore pleaded to her with his eyes to hear him out. Abigail checked if the room was void of her belongings one last time before storming towards the door. But yet again, Theodore held onto her.

“Let go of me, Theodore!” Abigail cried, her tears streaming even harder. Her lips quivered, and the mere desperation in her eyes to let her be broke Theodore to the core where he had no choice but to do as she asked.

“Please, Abigail. I didn’t know she would be so persistent.”

“What did you think!” The intensity of her voice shocked them both. “That you would send a breakup message, and she’d comply? Because of someone like me? Of course, she thought you weren’t serious. Perhaps she even thought you needed time! But deep down, she knew that she could just come back home and have you again.”

“But she doesn’t, Abigail. That’s what I’m trying to—”

“Did you even tell her who I was? The reason you ‘broke up’ with her?”

Silence.

“I thought so. You don’t want to admit it, Theodore, but you’re embarrassed by me. Cleo is just the right girl to be perched on your arm. Not me. And you believed it, didn’t you?”

“Abigail, I never—”

“Didn’t you!?”

Again, nothing.

Abigail scoffed, tears dripping from her chin. “I allowed you to touch me, Theodore. Do you know what it felt like to have a man touch me before you? It would feel like lava running through my veins. We had sex, Theodore!” She sobbed. “I gave you my entire body and soul. I was . . . I was utterly open and vulnerable to you when all along, you only fooled yourself into thinking you really want a future with me.”

“But, Abigail, I do. I . . .” He reached for her hand again but missed it as she flinched away, staring at him with a newfound contempt and repulsion.

“Gosh,” her lips quivered as she angrily swiped her tears away, “I wish you had thought this through before I fell in love with you.”

And just like that, she shoved past him, leaving him frozen in the doorway as she ran from his house.

From his life.