I knew that she was jealous, that she just wanted to get a rise out of me, but I couldn't help getting angry with her. Her insinuations hurt. All my frustration had to come out somewhere.

"I trust Liam," I said, meaning it, "He doesn't want anyone else. Not her. Not you, either."

"A bit testy, aren't we?" Abigail replied, "I used to think he wanted me. Probably just like you think he wants you. But I'm just a secretary, and you're just a..." she waved at me in a dismissive fashion that had me bristling. "Oh, don't take offense. I'm just trying to make a point."

"Well, will you get to it, then?"

"Fine. We're who we are. Do you know who she is?" Abigail said, nodding towards the beauty sat across from Liam. The one who'd begun twirling her finger in her dark locks like a schoolgirl talking to her first crush.

I shrugged, "Some business contact, I'm guessing?"

Abigail gave me a patronizing smile like I was a country bumpkin and she some high-falutin' city slicker. "Her name is Lisa di Firenze."

"Is that supposed to mean something?"

That earned me another tight, patronizing smile. "She's not just some bimbo, which I know is hard to believe given her dog dish eyes at the moment. When she doesn't have Cupid's arrow lodged firmly between her shoulder blades, she is the head of the largest media conglomerate in Italy."

"Good for her."

Abigail shook her head. "I'm going to slow-walk you through this. Who do you think is going to win him over, when it really comes down to it? You, a nobody from Boring, USA, or a beauty who can match him in every respect? Wealth, culture, pedigree, future. She has all that. What can you offer him that she can't?"

"Me. I can offer him me," I said.

Abigail tilted her head, the sunlight catching in the coppery strands of her strawberry blonde locks. "Aren't you hearing me? Or is that liberal arts education still telling you that being a special snowflake is enough? You aren't good enough for him. And if you want to save yourself some heartache, you'll get that through your head before he comes to his senses and drops you like a bad investment."

A lump started pushing its way up my throat. I wanted to slap that sly little grin right off her pointy, too-perfect face. But that would just prove her point, and we both knew that.

Still, it was a Herculean Labor to resist that impulse.

"Oh, sweetie, don't worry. I'm sure there's a Joe Nobody waiting for you back home in Boringsville who'll love you for who you are. You just have to find someone who's on your same level of mediocrity."

She reached out as though to give me a reassuring pat and I jerked away.

"There, there," she said, closing the gap once more and patting my shoulder, "It can be hard to come to grips with."

"Don't ever touch me again," I said, my lips peeling back from my teeth. This time, she pulled away from me.

"Well, I do have a job to do," she said, hefting the briefcase, "Should I tell Mr. Montgomery that you're out here and that you'd like to see him?"

I did want to see him. I wanted to see him more badly than I had after the lecture from hell. Except I knew that would be selfish. He was clearly in an informal business meeting, and while I also thought that he would call it off right away, I wasn't going to put him in that position of choosing between me and his work.

"No thanks," I said.

The twitch in Abigail's plucked eyebrows told me that she thought I'd blindly follow my desires without thinking about them and I took more than a little satisfaction and pleasure in disappointing her.

"Don't forget our conversation," Abigail said, brushing past me.

"Don't worry, Abby, I already have."

I relished the way she bristled momentarily before yanking the door to the shop open, the little bell over it tinkling to announce her arrival.

Except that had been a lie. I couldn't forget what she'd told me. Not a single word of it.

I tore myself away from the window, wanting so badly to get a glimpse of Liam's face before I did, but not wanting him to see that I'd been there.

And I thought of what Abigail said all the way back to my flat, the conversation stuck in my head like a radio jingle.

Chapter 13

I sat in front of my laptop, trying to make myself do some school work when the text came.

I nearly dropped the phone in my hurry to check it, adrenaline leaving my hands and arms trembly and hot.

But it wasn't Liam. It was Isabella. She wanted to know if I'd like to go out with her and Maria for some supper.

My appetite had vanished entirely, my stomach having shrunk down to the size of a golf ball from some combination of anxiety, fear, and frustration.

I declined, saying that I had a lot of thinking to do. It was as close to a lie as I wanted to go, and even then my fingertip hovered over the send button while I fretted about it.

If I told Isabella what had happened, she'd want to come over and talk about it, and I just couldn't right then. Not with her, anyway.

Even though I didn't want her sympathy at that moment, the note of concern in her reply text warmed me a little.

No, don't worry about it. I'll be okay. I shot back to her.

I just had too much to deal with. My professor pretty much calling me an imbecile in front of the entire class. Me feeling stuck with how to move forward with my academics.

And most of all, Abigail's overblown lost cause speech. I knew she was just trying to get under my skin. I knew how Liam felt about me. More, I knew why he felt that way.

Still, dear Abby had managed to plant the seed of an idea inside of me. Or perhaps she'd just been able to water and fertilize one that had already been there.

Either way, no matter how hard I tried to concentrate on my readings for class I couldn't escape the thoughts.

Even Mr. Drayton's present-moment exercise couldn't drag me away from it.

Soon enough, I had to face it head on. What if Abigail, in her own twisted way, was right? What if I wasn't who Liam was meant to be with?

Would he be better off without me? And if I did care about him as I knew I did, if I wanted to be honest and true to myself, shouldn't I let him go, let him flourish, even if it meant that he wouldn't be doing so with me?

***

It was just after 8 in the evening when Liam came over.

"Hey. Why's it so dark in here?" he flicked on the light and I flinched at the sudden brightness.

I smelled the food before I heard the crinkle of the takeout bag. It was a rich, spiced pasta sauce smell.

"I guess I forgot to turn the lamp on." My stomach had decided to relax a little, and saliva squirted into my mouth at the scent.

"I hope you haven't had supper yet."

"No." I smiled at him, doing my best to look happy and unconcerned, as though I'd just come off a hard day of school and studying. It wasn't so far from the truth to feel like a complete lie.

"It was just that your texts sounded really urgent. Well, as much as a text message can sound urgent. Did something happen today?" He laid the bag down. It was cream colored, with the name of the restaurant, Ditirambo, written in a stylized flourish along the side.

Then he pulled out a dark bottle of red wine, the cork sealed with wax, from his jacket. Two thin glasses wrapped in cloth followed, and finally a corkscrew.

These he spread out on my desk after closing my laptop and moving it to the window sill.