Page 2 of Single Girl in the City
Something Abi was quickly learning. There were a lot of missed meant-to-bes in Abi’s life. In fact, her life was apparently one big missed meant-to-be.
She rattled off her best friend’s birthday, the day they met, and the number of words from the title of her favorite NSYNC song, which was the number three for “Bye, Bye, Bye”—but Patrice wasn’t listening. She was too busy turning over the lip gloss tube, which Abi had bought as a special treat to herself for her upcoming do-gooder deeds.
The cashier read the color posted on the bottom. “Cream puff. My favorite pastry.”
Abi sighed. Cream puff was also the name of Jenny’s cat—a reminder so painful it made Abi want to cry, then devour the entire king-sized Snickers in one sitting.
“I hear you loud and clear, Jens,”she whispered to her best friend, who Abi imagined was giving her two thumbs up from the big playground in the sky.“I hope you’re happy because I love that color and it’s the last one.”
Patrice handed Abi the lip gloss and instead of bagging it, like she had the rest of her items, Abi held it out to the clerk. “It’s for you. I think the shade would look great with your complexion,” she said, doing her best Jenny impersonation. This immediately brought on a wave of guilt because Jenny was the real deal, a from-the-heart, shirt-off-her-back kind of do-gooder, which was not Abby’s first instinct, nor was it her second or third.
Patrice placed a hand over her mouth and her eyes went misty in a way that had Abi’s heart growing just a tiny bit. “Oh my. Aren’t you an angel?”
She didn’t know about that, but the genuine appreciation in the older woman’s expression ignited some feeling Abi had thought shattered in the accident.
“Champagne, lipstick, and condoms,” a very sexy and unwelcomed voice said from behind. “You must be throwing one hell of a party.”
Abi looked up and nearly swallowed her tongue whole. Because there he stood, her reason of reasons looking like sex on a stick. She’d caught glimpses of him over the past month, but always from a distance. A purposeful choice. Now she was close enough to smell his body wash and she realized just how big he was. Tall, broad shouldered, and I-bench-press-kegs-for-fun fit. And he was staring at her with amusement in those heart-stopping blue eyes.
Abi wished to disappear, but unfortunately whoever was granting wishes wasn’t listening because how else could this moment come while she was dressed like a singing telegram?
It wasn’t often that an amateur do-gooder got to face down her reason for do-gooding on her first day as a practicing Samaritan. By practicing, she meant stumbling, and Abi had stumbled right into the son of the man whose life she had inadvertently destroyed.
As she stood there, dressed in a red nose, clown shoes, and a unicorn headband while buying a giant box of condoms, a shot of guilt mixed with swelling panic caused the secret that she’d held for over a decade to stick in her throat.
People were defined by their choices and while Teen Abi had chosen to do something stupid, she hadn’t been the only guilty party in the equation. Sadly, Owen hadn’t chosen any of it, yet it was clear by what she’d surmised over the past several weeks that he was the one paying the price.
“Nice shoes,” he commented.
“I’m doing a birthday party later.”
He glanced at the condoms on the conveyor belt. “Those for the balloon animals?”
“Those are none of your business.”
“Isn’t that a shame?”
It was more than that. She was still riding the high from completing the first random act of kindness in Jenny’s honor, but now she had to delete a point, bringing her back to square one. Because she was about to lie to a man who deserved the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
“Do you have a habit of harassing strangers in grocery stores?”
His lip quirked. “Stranger, huh? We’re playing that game? I see you at the tea shop all the time.”
“No game. Just a fact.”
Abi was terrible at secrets and even worse at lying, which was why she avoided it at all costs. But sometimes one did something that—even though it was the right thing to do—warranted secrecy.
For a self-proclaimed good girl, Abi had a lot to atone for. Which was why, after a decade of avoidance, she’d come back to Portland, the place she’d spent every summer while growing up, to right the first of very many wrongs. She was hoping to make up for her most recent wrong that had ended in a terrible tragedy. She’d learned the hard way that every decision had far-reaching consequences, like a single drop of rain on a still lake sending ripples in every direction.
Abi’s ripples were powerful enough to tilt her world so far off axis that the only way to atone was to face her mistakes head-on. Even if it was in baby steps.
Recommitting herself to the task at hand, she tossed the condoms in her bag and glanced at the exit, then pulled out her credit card in preparation for a speedy escape.
“ID,” Patrice asked loudly.
Distractedly, Abi glanced at the cashier. “What?”
“You belong to AARP?” she asked, and Abi shook her head. “Then if you want the booze, I have to scan your ID.”
