Chapter 29

“I don’t like it.” Najay had made it abundantly clear five times already that she didn’t like the idea of Theodore and Abigail becoming… acquainted again.

Najay believed Abigail would just end up hurt and fall into a cycle of Theodore and heartbreak all over again.

When she learned that Abigail had lost her baby, Najay didn’t blame Theodore. No one did. But she believed it would be too hard on Abigail to be around him—especially since he didn’t know.

“I know you don’t like it,” Abigail said, “but I think this is good for me. I need a vacation.”

“Not with him. And won’t a wedding make you feel all… I don’t know…woozy?” Najay said, throwing her arms in the air. Abigail chuckled as they stopped in front of the salon.

“Woozy?” Abigail snorted.

“I don’t know, okay? Just be careful.”

“Najay, I’ll be fine. I’m keeping him at arm’s length. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Well—”

“That was rhetorical.” Abigail quickly cut her off before dashing across the street. “I’ll see you at dinner!”

“Have fun dress shopping!” Najay shouted across the street before disappearing inside the salon.

Abigail hummed as she sipped her coffee, taking her time walking down the street. Four days ago, when Theodore brought up the wedding, it was only when she got home that Abigail realised she had nothing to wear to the wedding, and it was less than five days away.

She wasn’t picky or hasty with what store she’d go to. She decided to stroll through the city and have the stores call to her.

“Abigail,” someone said from behind her. Abigail froze, almost thinking that a store had actually called her, until she spun around. She froze.

“Cleo.” Abigail wasn’t sure what to think about at this moment. She didn’t even know what seemed odder—the fact that Cleo knew her name or that she actually found it fit to call to her. Cleo was even… smiling?

It was hardly a smile, more like a forced flashing of perfectly aligned teeth and twitching eyes.

“What are you doing in the city?” Cleo asked as if they were old-time friends. Abigail instinctively searched for Theodore, thinking he’d pop up from somewhere even though he made it clear that he and Cleo weren’t together.

Abigail shuffled, gripping her coffee cup as she pondered Cleo’s question. “I was… err… I was just going shopping.”

“Oh! That’s lovely! Me too.” Oh no. “Why don’t we go shopping together?”

“I hardly see why we should do that,” Abigail said, not minding her rude bluntness. It was simply far too weird.

“Why, to get to know each other, of course,” Cleo said with a broader beam. This time, her smile wasn’t fake anymore but strangely intentional as she added, “We’ve both been bested by Theodore, after all. Who knows? Maybe this awkward thing could make us friends.”

Abigail dropped her gaze, unsure how to deny this strange request of a friendship that she was certain was fake.

“Wait, you two have broken up, have you?” Cleo asked, her voice dropping considerably low.

Abigail didn’t see it fit to answer, so she tried even harder to get away from this crazy woman.

“It seems like we’re doing two completely different types of shopping,” she said, gesturing to Cleo’s bag filled with fabric.

Cleo’s eyes followed where Abigail pointed before waving her off. “Oh, that? Pshh. I’m almost done, anyway. I just need a certain type of silk and chiffon.” Cleo’s face lit in fake insight as if she hadn’t already formed this conversation in her mind. “Maybe you can help me too! Since you’re a stripper and all, you might be quite familiar with that type of fabric.”

Abigail didn’t even flinch as Cleo raised her voice considerably when she mentioned Abigail being a stripper. Abigail opened her mouth to dismiss the conversation, but Cleo was a quick, sneaky little bastard.

“I have the perfect store in mind for you. We can go now. I parked my car just around the corner here. We can go there.”

Abigail shook her head. “Oh no, thanks. I’m actually gonna—”

“I insist,” Cleo said, cutting her off. “Okay, tell you what? We’ll go to the store. If you don’t like it, I’ll leave you be. Otherwise, I’m not taking no for an answer.” Her smile almost blinded Abigail as Cleo swung her long, brown hair over her shoulder.

Sighing, Abigail gave in. She knew how persistent Cleo could be. The whole thing with Theodore proved it.

“Okay,” she mumbled.

“Great! Let’s go.” Cleo led Abigail to her blue Acura, where they drove in silence for five minutes straight. As Cleo pulled over, Abigail noticed they weren’t too far from Theodore’s office, which unnerved her. Abigail couldn’t help but believe that Cleo would pull a stunt and shove her into Theodore or something just as awkward.

There was no hiding that Cleo was up to no good. But Abigail bit her tongue and went along with it to get the woman off her tail.

“This is the store I was telling you about,” Cleo said, pointing to a boutique a few doors down. Abigail’s eyes widened.

“I couldn’t possibly afford anything there!” She wasn’t afraid or ashamed to admit it either. Abigail wasn’t about to be bullied or shamed into emptying her accounts on a single dress.

“Nonsense.” Cleo waved her off. “I’m sure we can find something.”

“But—”

“And it’ll be fun!” Cleo clamped her manicured hands around Abigail’s wrist and pulled her towards Uniq Boutique.

‘Just smile and nod, then you’ll be free in five minutes,’ Abigail said to herself, taking a deep breath as she followed Cleo inside.

The second she stepped through the automatic glass doors, Abigail felt underdressed and out of place in her grey, ripped jeans and F.R.I.E.N.D.S. t-shirt. She stuffed her hands in her back pockets, peering around the room as a sales rep approached them.

“Ladies,” she greeted with a big, bright smile. “How may I assist?”

“Shoo. We’ll be fine.” Cleo instantly dismissed the young woman with a flicker of her wrist. Still, the sales rep kept herself composed before turning to leave.

Abigail frowned. “That was quite rude,” she said, though it barely phased Cleo.

“Oh darling, I’ve been here a million times. I don’t need any help.”

“I’m gonna need psychological help after I escape you,” Abigail grumbled below her breath.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing.” Abigail smiled—or forced a smile, rather.

As they stalked around the store, assessing dresses, Abigail counted the seconds until they were through the last rack, where she would be free.

Still, she enjoyed looking at the dresses, imagining how she’d look in the ones she fancied the most. A specific red bodycon dress with frills at both sides and a sweetheart bodice cut caught her eye. It didn’t seem like anything she’d wear, but it seemed oddly familiar.

“Cleo? Is this yours?” Abigail asked but cursed herself softly when she realised what she had just done. When Abigail and Theodore broke up, Abigail found herself researching Cleo one night when she couldn’t sleep. She’d spent at least an hour gawking over some of Cleo’s designs. Abigail didn’t necessarily like her, but Cleo’s success was surely not overrated.

A proud smile spread across Cleo’s face as she stared at the dress. “Why, yes, it is. One of my first designs, actually. This store and a few more boutiques in New York sell my designs. But most of my brand lies in the heart of Paris.”

“I see.”

“I had no idea you knew my work.” The pride in her voice was suffocating.

“I saw the tag,” was all Abigail could manage as she swerved around another rack. But then another dress caught her eye, but not one she recognised.

Cleo followed Abigail’s eyes towards a dusty blue, satin dress—draped at the side with a split that would fall mid-thigh. The bodice hung from two tiny strings that descended down the back in a simple X, leaving the top half of the back exposed. Abigail held the dress in her hands, spinning it to ogle it closely.

“You should get it,” Cleo said.

Abigail recovered from her stunned state. “Oh no. I can’t afford…” She allowed her sentence to trail as she fiddled with the price tag.

But as if it was on fire, Abigail flung the dress back on the rack after seeing the price.

“Oh hell no. I can’t afford that. Well, this was fun. I think it’s time we leave.”

“So soon?” Cleo asked, reaching for the dress and shoving it in Abigail’s hand again. “Just try it on. I’m sure it’ll look great on you.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You must!” Cleo insisted.

“I… I won’t.”

Huffing at Abigail’s stubbornness, Cleo held the dress in front of Abigail and pointed her to a mirror.

“Look how lovely it’ll look on you. You must try it on.”

Abigail narrowed her eyes, staring at Cleo through the mirror.

“Why are you insisting so much that I try on the dress?” Abigail asked, raising an accusing brow.

Cleo stepped back, feigning innocence. “I just want you to see that this dress would be perfect.”

“Do you now? You don’t even like me.”

Cleo gasped. “I don’t… I don’t necessarily dislike you.”

“But you don’t like me either.” Abigail gave her a pointed look as Cleo’s mouth opened but shut almost immediately when she couldn’t find the proper comeback.

Forcing another smile, Cleo said, “Just try on the dress, Abigail. And then you’ll love it, and you’ll buy it.”

Abigail pinched the bridge of her nose. “I know I’d like the dress even more if I tried it on. But what part of ‘I can’t afford it’ do you not understand!”

After hearing the argument, the sales rep stalked toward them, and a few other workers peeped over the racks to see what was happening.

“Is there a problem, ladies?”

“No—”

“Yes. My friend here is just having a bit of an issue with the price of the dress. You wouldn’t have the faintest idea what she has to do for money,” Cleo laughed, but Abigail didn’t share her humour.

“Will that mean you won’t be buying the dress, ma’am?” the rep, whose name tag read Sarah, asked with a scowl.

“No—”

“Unless she was planning to steal it,” Cleo blurted out. It was then that Cleo’s plan became abundantly clear to Abigail, and all she could do was gawk at the manipulating woman.

“Ma’am, I’m going to ask you to hand the dress to me,” Sarah said, stretching her hand.

“I wasn’t trying to steal the dress,” Abigail snapped, glaring at Cleo. “You despicable, nauseating, manipulating bitch—”

“Ma’am, if you would so kindly—”

“You’re the one whose a man-stealing—”

“I think the dress would look lovely on her.” This came from a foreign voice as all three women paused—a foreign male voice.

But both Cleo and Abigail stiffened, recognising his voice from that simple sentence. Slowly, they all turned around as if they were two-year-old triplets being caught colouring on the wall.

Behind them stood Theodore and his COO, Jerry. Abigail met Jerry once, but Cleo knew him quite well.

“Theodore,” Abigail mumbled, clutching the dress to her chest.

He ogled the dress with an approving glint in his eye, imagining how its soft silky-like texture would look on Abigail. And how he could almost run his hand under the—

“What the hell are you doing here?” Cleo’s voice snapped him from his naughty thoughts, but every warmth disappeared from his eyes when he met Cleo’s.

“I would ask you the same thing,” Theodore growled.

Without taking his eyes from Cleo, he stalked towards Abigail and slipped the dress from her fingers before handing it to Sarah.

“Get this ready for me, would you?”

“Are—are you buying it, s-s-sir?” Sarah stumbled over her words. But the question yielded a glare from Theodore, which had her squirming. The dominance and power that radiated from him were almost suffocating.

“Obviously,” he snapped, sending the woman scurrying away.

Jerry stood with his arms folded over his chest and his feet spread apart, like a bodyguard as Theodore refaced Cleo—who was matching his glare.

“How dare you,” Theodore growled through gritted teeth. “How. Fucking. Dare. You.”

“How did you know we were here?” Cleo asked stubbornly, evidently upset that her plan was ruined.

“I saw you practically dragging Abigail into your car—”

“She came willingly.”

“—so I followed you and called Theodore,” Jerry said, eyeing Cleo in disapproval. He never quite liked her. “I waited for him to arrive before intervening. And it seems we came right on time.”

“Fuck off, Jerry,” Cleo mumbled, rolling her eyes. Abigail shuffled nervously. She could sense the chemistry among the three of them. It wasn’t necessarily good, but it was there.

“Now you listen to me, and you listen to me good,” Theodore said, his voice dropping an octave as he pointed a stern finger at Cleo. She stumbled back against the mirror, staring at him with wide eyes.

She couldn’t recall the last time she had ever seen Theodore so angry. Perhaps that’s because she had never seen him this angry.

“You’re going to go back to Paris, and you will stay there for the rest of your petty, miserable, unfulfilling life.”

“You can’t tell me—”

“Or I will RUIN you.” Cleo yelped at the profound promise in Theodore’s voice. “You will never look at Abigail ever again. You will never try to undermine her or embarrass her. Do you hear me? The fact that you even tried only proved how pathetic you really are.”

Theodore rose to his full height as he rested his hand on the small of Abigail’s back. Cleo’s expression was unreadable.

“Theodore… How could you?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“Because I fucking can. And if I ever see you again within fifty feet of Abigail, I will make good on my promise.” And just like that, he left Cleo there, guiding Abigail away from her.

Jerry waited outside as Abigail and Theodore headed to Sarah. She handed Abigail a cute white shopping bag with a nervous smile.

“I’m sorry about the scene. I didn’t know you knew Mr Adams so well.” For a minute, Abigail almost asked how Sarah knew Theodore. But she remembered that his face was in every business magazine and he was one of the most wanted bachelors in this city. Every single woman knew him.

Without a word, Abigail turned around to leave as Theodore swiped his credit card. For some reason, the entire situation annoyed her. Cleo practically dragged her there in the first place, trying to embarrass or get her arrested; Theodore swooped in and saved the day, and Sarah only decided to be nice because Abigail knew someone like Theodore. So, does that mean every other average person was to be treated like trash? And even so, it didn’t make it easier for her, considering her complexion.

“Abigail,” Theodore called after her as they left the store, but she kept walking. “Abigail!”

“What, Theodore?” Jerry—who was waiting by the car—simply excused himself after mumbling something about going back to the office.

Abigail assumed she would’ve been met with Theodore’s soft, tender and concerned eyes. Instead, they were cold and almost…angry? With her? But why!

“Have you lost it?” he accused, perching an arm on his waist.

Abigail raised an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t know who that woman is, but you go shopping with her? Are you friends now?”

“I wanted nothing to do with her, Theodore! But the woman is persistent and stubborn. Hell! She is even more stubborn than I am. Do you think I willingly followed behind her like a lovesick puppy? And don’t you dare try to make this seem like my fault. I didn’t ask you to play the hero. I could’ve simply excused myself and left the store.”

“Abigail, that’s beyond my point.” He ran his hand over his face with a sigh, seeming calmer. “Cleo can be very spoiled when she doesn’t have her way. I’ve never known her to be a violent person, but you have no idea what she could’ve done.”

“I can take care of myself. Thank you.” Abigail turned around to walk away, but Theodore grabbed her wrist.

“I have no doubt that you can. But that doesn’t mean you should walk into trouble.”

“I can walk wherever I want to.”

“Goddammit, Abigail! Would you just listen to me for once? Just once!” Theodore didn’t even notice how close he had pulled Abigail until he could feel her nipple hardening against his forearm. The damn woman didn’t wear a bra today.

He gulped, and so did Abigail, releasing her as if her touch burnt him. Abigail cleared her throat and dropped her gaze to the dress in the bag. She then handed it to him.

“Here,” she mumbled. “Take it.”

Theodore sighed. “Abigail, don’t do this. Just because we’re not together anymore, please don’t deny my gifts.”

Abigail avoided the pang in her chest when he reminded her that they weren’t together, but she shook her head nonetheless. “No, I wasn’t giving it back. I love it, thank you. It’s just that this shade of blue is hard to find. So you’ll probably need it so you can match your tie.”

Against his will, Theodore’s lips twitched upwards as he took the bag from her. However, he simply snapped a picture and handed it back to her.

“You want us to match?”

Abigail shrugged. “It’ll be uncanny not to. How will the pictures look?”

“So, there will be pictures?” Theodore’s smile took over his face now as Abigail shyly ticked a curl back into her messy bun.

“It’s a wedding, Theodore,” she said in a ‘duh’ tone.

Theodore chuckled. “Would you like a ride home?”

It was hardly 9:30, and Abigail was sure that Theodore had a long day ahead of him. Besides, if he’s going to leave this weekend, there must be many things he has to do in the office. So, Abigail willed herself to say no. Well, that was the excuse she made up, trying to ignore the real reason she didn’t want to go into a car with Theodore right now. Her breathing hadn’t returned to normal since he grabbed her, ogling her with much rage and frustration. But little did he know that Abigail could see right through it. His emotions stemmed from something far deeper—something that they both have missed but wouldn’t dare to say.

So, as much as she wanted to accept his offer to take her home to her empty apartment where no one would hear or see them enter or leave, Abigail did the opposite.

“I have some more things to buy. A look is not complete with only a dress, you know?” It was true. She had planned to buy shoes and jewellery too. “And I know you must have a lot to do at the office,” she added quickly before he could suggest accompanying her.

Theodore’s mouth clamped shut, and he sighed in defeat when he realised that was where they would part.

“I’ll call you if something comes up. But if not, I’ll see you Saturday.”

All Theodore could do was nod. His throat closed up when he anticipated ending this conversation with her. Though he really was pissed that she even considered being around a stranger she knew didn’t like her, Theodore couldn’t shake the fact that being near her soothed him.

“Abigail, wait!” He called after her, grabbing her hand again as she stepped away. But he had no idea why.

“Yes?” Innocent brown eyes stared up at him as he slowly pulled her close to him. The tardy workers rushing to work brushed past them ever so often, yet it was as if they were in their own world.

Theodore pulled her flush against his body again, allowing her to feel the hard bulge in his pants that she had caused. Abigail gulped, not once taking her eyes from his as he licked his lips.

He could kiss her—he should kiss her. He should put them both at ease and do it because he knew they both wanted to more than anything else.

Yet, he knew when she was alone—when she was far away from him and recovered from her nerves, she’d probably regret it. So, though he hated to, Theodore brushed a ball of lint from her cheek and let her go.

“Just… be careful.” That was all he could manage to say. He saw the disappointment in her eyes as she simply nodded, spinning on her heels and practically dashing in the other direction.

But she’d soon understand why he had to let her go. It was what she wanted, after all.