Page 21 of The Real

“Shut up. Keep going on your dates. It’s working. You can’t shut up about him. Don’t let one bad day ruin everything you have going. Promise me you’ll show up tomorrow.”

“I promise,” I said as unexpected butterflies surfaced at the thought of seeing Cameron.

“Now, turn off the fucking TV. Take a bath or use that birthday present I bought you.”

The present she was referring to was a sex toy called The Anaconda. No further explanation needed.

I sighed, grabbed my remote, and clicked off Mindhunter. “It’s off. And I’m never using that present. One four three.”

“Love you too.”

When I stepped off the elevator, I could see Kat pacing in her office, talking on the phone. I set down my tote and decided to make us a quick cup of coffee. It was only when I got to her office door that I realized it wasn’t a business call.

“Jefferson, I’m at work. Don’t you dare threaten to come here and make a scene. I said fine! Fine!” Kat hung up the phone and looked out of her office window. Frozen at her door, she caught my reflection in my attempt to retreat.

“Abbie, I need to get away. I need a few days off.” Kat turned to me, and it was then I saw one of her eyes was bloodshot.

Steaming mugs in hand, I walked toward her, cringing at the sight of it. “Oh my God. Kat, does it hurt?”

“My blood pressure is off. I need to relax. Is there any way you can cover for me? I know it’s a lot to ask with all that’s going on, but I need a few days. Just a few days.”

“Of course,” I offered as I set down the cups. “Take the rest of the week. Where will you go?”

She opened her desk drawer and began packing her purse. “I’ll go visit my dad, or maybe just get away. He owns a few vacation spots. One I love in Florida. Maybe I’ll get some sun.”

So, it was her father who was wealthy. I knew the woman grew up privileged. It showed in her demeanor, in the way she spoke, and in her bite.

“Kat, if you want to talk about it—”

She shook her head. “I appreciate your concern. I do. But I need to get out of this city and away from him.”

“Are you . . . in danger?”

“What?” she asked incredulously, as if the idea was preposterous. “Of course not, no. And please don’t say a word to anyone else about this. I hope you can keep this in confidence.”

There wasn’t a person within earshot of her office that wasn’t aware of what was going on in her marriage, but I played agreeable.

“Of course,” I assured as she picked up her purse and covered me with grateful yet weary eyes. “Thank you. I’ll return the favor.”

“No problem,” I said as she walked past me and turned to face me at the door. It was the first time a conversation with her husband had rattled her that badly. I felt the tension radiate from her from only feet away. “Abbie, if anyone calls—”

; “Go,” I told her and waved my hands in a shooing motion for emphasis. “I’ve got this. I swear you’re covered.”

Squaring her shoulders, every bit of vulnerability disappeared from her as she faced the twenty-second floor that was rapidly filling with bustling employees. Slipping on her sunglasses, she bypassed the receptionist’s desk and moved toward the elevator. The woman seemed to be a ticking time bomb, and I was sure I could get more work done without her at that point.

Just as I made the peaceful retreat to my own desk, my phone rattled in my pocket, and I rolled my eyes as I answered. “I’m surprised you remembered my phone number, dear brother.”

Oliver was always quick to reply. “I didn’t. Modern technology. I have no idea what your number is.”

“That’s the problem with the world. We rely on it for everything.”

I could hear the smile in his voice. “What’s my number?”

“I could rattle off anything and you wouldn’t know your own.”

“Someone is a little feisty today. What’s eating you, little sister?”