Can't Let Go - By Michelle Brewer Page 0,8

day really began. Instinctively, she glanced up at the framed photo sitting on the edge of her desk. The smiling face of her best friend stared back at her, reminding her of a happier time. In the photo, Abby smiled brightly beside Hayley the night of the wedding.

A memory of the day that followed flashed across her mind—a familiar dull ache spreading through her chest—and the image of a tousle-haired man with beautiful gray eyes and a casual confidence that got her every time conjured briefly before her eyes. She tried to push it away, not wanting to think about him or any of the havoc he had wreaked.

But of course, this was the path her mind would take today.

It made sense. She might as well torture herself as much as possible.

And as if on cue, the phone on her desk began to ring, signaling that Ingrid was in her office and waiting. Abby actually did groan then, unable to avoid it any longer. She rose to her feet and crossed the short distance to her boss’s office, trying to compose herself before entering.

“You were late.” The woman scolded before Abby even had a chance to shut the door.

“There was an accident on—”

“We’ve had this discussion before, Abigail. Sluggishness will not be tolerated.” All Abby could manage was a nod, her agitation growing. She could count on one hand the number of times she had been late to work. Ingrid, on the other hand, was rarely seen around the office before noon—if at all. “And can you please tell me why there are Easter decorations still cluttering up the lobby when we are nearly at the end of April?” Abby groaned inwardly.

“I’ll put in another call.” She didn’t see what the bother was. In her eyes, the flowers weren’t specific to Easter—they were a celebration of spring in general. But to Ingrid, they were nothing but an eyesore.

“Now, do you have those prints I asked for?” Abby nodded, bringing herself back to the present, handing over the files containing what Ingrid was asking for.

“I faxed over—” Abby began.

“Jaymes isn’t going to work out.” Ingrid cut her off, not even bothering to look up from the pages she was scanning. Jaymes was one of the newer copy editors, fresh from college. “You’ll need to take care of that for me.”

“But Ingrid—” Abby stammered, stunned. Ingrid looked up then, as if daring her to say more. “This is only his second publication—”

“He should have learned from the first.” Ingrid was a beautiful woman. She had vibrant red hair and a carefully maintained pale complexion. Her eyes were a light brown—but sharp. Everything about her was harsh, but it lent to her a certain kind of glacial beauty. Many were intimidated by her, and perhaps Abby should have counted herself among them. But she didn’t.

Working for Rumor was not the direction Abby had intended her professional life to go in. It had been the only opportunity in the area when she finished graduate school and she had taken it, planning on going somewhere else eventually. But she’d stayed, biding her time. She didn’t know why—didn’t know why she put up with all that she did. With her credentials and experience, she could probably get a job anywhere by now.

But something kept her there. Something gave her the strength to forge on, waiting for a better opportunity to present itself.

It was a long meeting and by the time Abby left, her headache was in full-swing. She threw herself into her chair and pulled open a drawer on her desk, searching through it until she came to a bottle of aspirin. She had just finished swallowing them when the phone on her desk began to ring again.

She filled with dismay, assuming it was going to be Ingrid, demanding that Abby return to her office so that she could complain even more about something that Abby had prepared for her. It wouldn’t be the first time, and based on the way the day was going, it would be entirely fitting. “Rumor magazine—you’ve reached—” She answered, holding the phone to her ear. The person on the other end didn’t give her the chance to finish before speaking.

“Hi, I’m look for Abigail Lewis.” The voice was familiar.

“This is,” Abby responded, a smile forming at her lips.

“No, no. I’m not looking for Abigail the editor. I’m looking for Abigail the aunt.” Hayley’s voice immediately calmed her nerves, an effect her friend had always been able to have on her.

“Abigail