Slipping into my office, I fire up my computer to check things for the boat building business. Paperwork for me is a nightmare. I hate it. Just let me design boats and hand the other crap off to assistants and people who actually like paperwork. Helpful folks like Gary, my go-to guy. I continue reviewing schematics and engineering designs, stopping briefly to make coffee when I noticed some of the numbers are not matching up. If the calculations of the design are even a hair incorrect, then the boat will not be seaworthy. Inwardly groaning, I wonder how and who missed these alterations. The sleek new fiberglass material is not suitable for the bottom of the hull, but it seems that order got mixed with the heavier materials needed. Useless to me and a costly mistake. Shit. I’m going to have to address this with my builders tomorrow so the custom boat doesn’t end up being a tug boat or sinking on her maiden voyage. This delay will hold me up from leaving to get Abby’s car for several more days. Damn.
Eight in the evening and my stomach grumbles with hunger pangs as I scan my fridge for something worth eating. I consider takeout, but nothing tempts my sour stomach. It’s funny how a girl can do that when she wraps herself around your heart like a Vice-Grip of thorns. Flipping through those discarded menus, my phone lights up and sings Abby’s new ringtone “California Gurls” by Katy Perry. If I wasn’t already so head over heels for her, I’d turn in my man card, but she’s worth it.
Fucking finally.
“Hey, Hollywood, how’s the first day back in the saddle?”
“Hell from the moment I left you, sailor.” Her voice is soft and wavering.
I’m worried and feeling helpless, but I man up and admit it to myself. “Abby, tell me what’s going on.”
“I don’t even know where to start. I didn’t even see my sister today.”
“Okay, take a deep breath and sit down. Where are you now?”
“I just got into my apartment. Dad took it upon himself to clean out my condo. Everything is pretty much in these fucking organized boxes and under sheets packed away. He paid some stranger to go through my shit.” I can tell she’s about to blow a water valve of tears.
“Did you eat anything today?” I can hear her rummaging through a bag.
“I got ice cream on the way home, some bananas, and oh, one avocado. Hold on.”
“Okay, I’m holding.” The last time Hollywood had an avocado in her hand, I ended up with a bruised ego and kisses that could bring a dying man back to life, or at least this one.
“Shit… even my silverware is packed, damn it,” She sounds defeated, voice wavering as I hear the sound of a rolling drawer closing.
“Oh, baby.” She’s losing it. Gone really. My pretty girl is melting down over some frozen rocky road and I’m not there, where I should be to hand her a spoon.
“Roman, I didn’t even get to see her. How could I have not even seen her? Lucas was a fucking bulldog after I refused a ride with him to her place. I got there in a taxi and she was resting in her bedroom. ‘Unavailable to visitors’ he tells me.” I assume she means Lucas the asshole who could use an ass kicking. “I didn’t want to wake her by fighting with him, so I left. What kind of person just leaves?”
“A considerate one. It was a bad day, sweetheart. Tomorrow you’ll be able to figure things out with a good night’s sleep.”
“But you’re not here,” she wails into the phone and the waterworks turn on full force.
“Abigail, I am wherever you are.”
“But—”
“Shhhh, listen to me. It’s going to take me a bit to get down there to you because of a botched up boat job I need to fix, but I am working on it, and I am with you always.”
“Roman, I’m sorry I chickened out on you. I’m just no good at this.”
“Baby, don’t apologize. You’re not the only one who sucks.” I tease a giggle from her and my heart swells. “We’ll figure this out, but for now, I want you to dig back in your bag and pull out that avocado.”
“What? Why?” She sniffles into the phone.
“Were you really going to eat it?” I’m hedging my bets she bought it because it reminded her of us.
“No. This thing is as hard as a rock. I was going to let it sit on my counter and mush so I could throw it at you when you got here.” She’s tearful and I’m laughing because only Abby would do something so sweetly ridiculous.
“No more tears today. I want you to go in to your bedroom.”
“Roman—”
“You’re too exhausted, sweetheart, so just get in your bedroom and strip.”
“I—”
“Don’t make me add another spanking, Hollywood. Now are you striping or not?”