Page 71 of Boyfriend
Then she takes the phone and heads to the other end of the big kitchen, tapping the phone to make a call as she goes. "Hi Dalton," she says in a hushed voice. “Sorry I missed your call."
Her polite tone tears at me in a way that's hard to explain. Dalton is the only family she has left, but she speaks to him like he’s the school principal. I’m sorry I missed your call. It’s not even eight o’clock, for chrissakes.
"Noon. Sure. Thank you. I'll be ready. What’s that?” Her eyes cut to mine. "I'm ninety percent sure he has class. But I'll double check. Of course." She reaches for two coffee mugs in the drying rack. “Thank you. Lunch is fine, really. I have to work at dinnertime. See you soon."
She hangs up the call and pours two cups of coffee. I'm watching her, trying to decide if I should ask her what that's all about, when I realize I'm letting her serve me a drink in my own damn home.
I leap up and grab the milk out of the fridge. "Thank you for the coffee. Now come and sit with me."
Abbi returns to the table and takes a fortifying gulp of coffee. But she still doesn’t quite look like her normal, chipper self.
"Big plans with Dalton today?"
“I’m meeting him at noon,” she says in a flat voice.
"Special occasion?" I press.
She sighs. "It's the third anniversary of my mother's death. We go to the cemetery every year.”
My heart drops. "Oh Abbi, I'm sorry."
"Yeah, uh, thanks. It's just a shitty day. We get through it."
“Should I come along?" I hear myself ask. Because I'm pretty sure I heard Dalton make that invitation.
"No," she says quickly. “It's not fun.”
"Well of course it isn't," I agree. “But neither was watching my family implode over Christmas.”
Her eyes search me without really seeing me. “Dalton is taking me to lunch after. But you must have class today,” she points out. "And then practice."
"Well, yeah,” I admit. “And I have to get fitted for a tuxedo before my sister murders me.”
She flashes me a quick smile. “Weston, you're busy. It's okay. Really." Then she ducks behind her coffee cup.
I feel uneasy. This is, to be fair, the kind of quandary that ride-or-die single guys avoid. I honestly don't know whether I'm supposed to insist on being there for Abbi, or not. “What about Price?" I ask. "Will you have to duck him today?"
Abbi shakes her head vigorously. “Price wouldn’t dream of showing up to a cemetery. You don't have to do the fake boyfriend thing today.”
Well, ouch. Because I guess I’m not showing up to one either. I really do have class, and it’s a review session for a test I’m taking in two days.
“Okay,” I say quietly. I pick up the fork and take a bite of cake. “This is really good stuff.”
Abbi’s smile is a flash, and then it’s gone. “Thanks.”
“It’s awesome that you have her recipe.”
“Yeah.” Abbi picks up her fork and looks at the cake. But then she puts the fork down again. “I’m not, uh, hungry. You can finish this. Actually, I’ve got to run.”
“But…”
Before I even manage to finish that sentence, she’s on her way out of the kitchen.
Five minutes later she reappears with her backpack. She gives me a kiss on the cheek and reaches for her coffee mug. “I’ll wash this before I head out.”
I clamp down on her hand. “Leave it, Abbi. I can wash the damn mug.”
“Okay,” she says quickly, her eyes flashing with an emotion I can’t quite read. “Later.”
