After Tonight

The next morning my alarm rang at 5:00, the usual. I cautiously slipped out from Rob’s grasp. Once I’d showered and such, I slipped on a pair of jeans, keeping my eyes on his sleeping body the entire time. His mop of unruly hair was sticking up in odd places and I couldn't help but giggle—he had total sex-hair. By six I was ready to go and reluctantly placed a kiss on his forehead from where I perched on my side of the bed.
…
“I can’t believe you’re not going to give us the details.” Grace whined, waiving a rolling pin in my face. It was somewhere around one in the afternoon and I still hadn’t spilled the gossip about last night.
“Stop making her blush.” Jo snapped. “You know she had sex, look at her face and that hair. Only a woman with hair like Abbey can come to work the next day with sex-hair and pull it off.” I blushed scarlet again, thinking of Rob's hair, and pulled the cookie sheet from the oven.
Grace finally gave up and went to man her post at the counter. It had been a fairly slow day, so I took my break outside; the sidewalks were a little slick from the slush so I brought out the salt bag with me. That’s when I saw them; cameras. I pretended to be ignorant and went about my business, trying not to think about what angle they were shooting at and how I was covered in flour. This was the first time I’d ever seen the paparazzi at work. I usually found new pictures whenever I opened a magazine, but I’d always been oblivious as to where they’d been hiding.
Back inside, I told Grace to take my spot in back. I continued to watch out the window, anxious to see what they were going to do next. Nothing happened; they’d slipped out of my sight right in front of my nose. I sighed, annoyed at the pictures and the fact I couldn’t catch them. How could Rob deal?
The bells above the door chimed lightly; it was almost closing time and I was sweeping the front room. “Dinner tomorrow night.” A voice sounded from behind me, bringing a smile to my face. “Before I go.”
“I have to check my schedule.” I replied, turning to wrap my arms around Rob’s waist. “Of course.”
“How are you?” he asked, kissing me lightly on the lips and taking the broom from my hands.
“Fine. Lethargic.” I began to wipe down the counter and clean the glass as he started sweeping, picking up where I left off. “It’s been slow.” He merely murmured a response. “Guess what happened today?”
“You showered in flour?” he asked, eyeing the chalky looking apron I had on.
“The paparazzi were across the street.” His body stiffened.
“What?” he asked, his already pale complexion going almost as white as my apron. “Really—?” I shrugged.
“I was outside dumping salt on the sidewalk and I saw them. I think I ignored them, sort of, and then I came back inside and they were gone.”
“Bloody hell.” He muttered and looked out the window. “That’s crossing a line.”
“It’s OK. I had underwear on and everything.” I winked and continued my duties.
“Abbey.” His tone was serious, far more serious than when he had revealed his true identity. “I don’t like that they’re following you. Without me. I mean, I hate that they follow us at all, but now just you! That’s bloody ridiculous.”
“Because I’m not famous?” I added smartly, biting my tongue afterward. Rob shot me a disbelieving look.
“Childish much?” he asked, still giving me this look as though I’d stuck a knife in my stomach.
“It slipped.” I hung my head.
“Of course that’s not why I’m upset, love.” He leaned the broom against the wall and came over to where I stood at the counter. “I just don’t like that your privacy is in jeopardy now. I mean, when we’re together it’s understandable—bloody annoying, but understandable. But now—just because they haven’t figured you out yet. They’re going to dig up your skeletons and this is just ridiculous!” He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging as he let go.
“It’s OK.” I replied, laughing as his hair stood straight up. For now. Did I have skeletons I didn’t want Rob to know about?
“No it’s not. But I’m not wasting another minute of our sparse time together talking about the press. How long have you got?”
His eyes became warm again, well as warm as blue can get, and his crooked little smile returned. He held me close against him, nuzzling into my neck. Giggling slightly as his breath tickled me, I felt a slight flutter in my stomach. I’d never felt like this before, as cliché as that sounds. But it was true; being with Rob was like a totally new experience for me and it wasn’t just because of his celebrity.
I had boyfriends in the past, but as Rob’s hands locked securely on my waist and I breathed in his familiar scent that always had my head whirling, all those relationships seemed childish and insignificant. I just had a feeling about this, call it women’s intuition—call it whatever you want, but I was head over heels for this one.
“I actually have to stay late tonight.” I cringed, expecting to see his beautiful smile fall. But instead, he kissed me again.
“What are you guy’s going to do?” he asked.
“We’ll we’ve got this wedding we’re making all the desserts for—you know the one I told you about with
the tower or whatever? Well we’ve got to get a blue-print sort of thing going for all that. And it’s my turn to mop the floors and whatnot tonight. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, no bother.” He briefly glanced toward the clock and then back at me. “Is there anything I can help you with?” I eyed him mischievously.
“What’s in it for you?” I asked, fighting a smile. “We’re not going to have sex on the counter if that’s what you’re getting at.” He gasped, slapping a hand to his cheek.
“If that’s all you think of me—well!” Then he got serious. “I was just trying to be a good boyfriend, but since you brought up the whole shagging-on-the-counter scenario…”
“Ha!” I laughed in his face and walked off to get the rest of my work done. Maybe if I finished early…. “I just washed it.”
“Well I’ve got nothing better to do.”
So Rob helped me with my chores. I’m sure it wasn’t how he’d planned to spend the evening but he didn’t fuss once. He even shooed me into the back with my sisters so we could get our planning done early.
…
“OK mom.” I groaned into the phone during my lunch break the next day. “Well of course we’re going to help you cook! What time did Keith want to leave for the parade?” I stood outside the front door, leaning against the window.
The air was crisp today, yet all the leftover bits of snow had disappeared; it was a perfect November day. The few trees I could see hinted that this was their final run; vibrant reds and oranges had long disappeared and whatever was left clung to the branches through the gust of wind.
“I don’t know, you’ll have to call him. I just know Lila is ecstatic this year—apparently something from that new Mary Poppins musical is going to be preformed. You know Lila and her Mary Poppins.” My mother got just as excited about the parade as her granddaughter did—and she was the one who had gotten Lila interested in Mary Poppins. “I was thinking we could make a shopping list, I want to hit the market when everything’s fresh!” My mom was just excited; Thanksgiving was a big thing at our house.
Since I can remember, the Thanksgiving Parade was a staple of my family’s holiday. Even though we could see the parade from our apartment window, my parents always thought it was more fun to be in the midst of the action. I was four when we went to our first parade. Excitement from the other bystanders zipped through my little body and I couldn’t stand still. I tugged and tugged at my hat, willing it to stay on in the chilly morning air. My dad hoisted me onto his shoulders, being careful so my thermos full of homemade hot-cocoa wouldn’t spill down his back. Joplin clung to his leg, peering out through the mess of legs to get a look at the floats and Keith ran around, trying to get to the front. Mom stayed home that year, Grace wasn’t even one and my grandma had scolded my mom when she heard of her plans to wrap the new baby up and bring her to the festivities. I kept looking up at the looming buildings, waving my arms wildly in case my mom happened to be looking out of one of the windows.
We got home and stripped off our winter clothing, noses red from the harsh weather and tongues burned from the hot chocolate. We all got to help in the kitchen; mom loved to cook with us. My job was to decorate the sweet-potato casserole with marshmallows—something I still did today, though now I was allowed to make it as well.
A part of me regretted that I hadn’t begged Rob to stay in the city this week.
“So he’s not coming?” Mom asked.
“He’s going home ma’.” I said, fighting back a sigh.
“Isn’t his home here?” She was still pissed she hadn’t met him yet. I ignored her and rattled off items we needed to pick up for dinner.
…
That night, Rob picked me up at my apartment precisely at nine. He told me to bring my hat and gloves; I was dying to know what he had up his sleeve.
First there was dinner. I was glad that I had chosen a modest navy skirt and one of my nicer sweaters; the restaurant was somewhat fancy. Dinner was nice. Just sitting across from him, staring into his beautiful eyes underneath the mood lighting, was enough to make my blood hot—I secretly crossed my fingers that he couldn’t see the blush on my cheeks.
He was so different from the guys I always picked. There was part of him that was a complete gentleman, always holding the doors and whatnot. But then there was another part that made me weak—the recklessness, the ravenous look in his eyes when he kissed me, his dry humor, the books he read, the music he liked, the way he carried himself, his laugh, his guitar-calloused fingers, the mix of his cigarettes and gum and natural smell and soap that lingered on my pillows and sheets—everything. Hollywood portrayed him to be this untamable English hunk, and sure he liked to have fun, but he knew when to say enough; he just liked to create this mysterious persona.
…
Once we were back outside, I slipped my gloves on and Rob took my hands excitedly.
“If you’ve figured it out already, please keep it to yourself.” He pleaded innocently and dragged me down the sidewalk, though I would have willingly followed him anywhere. We’d walked a few blocks, toward Rockefeller Center and my heart skipped—he was taking me ice-skating!
“Should I close my eyes?” I asked, smiling to myself. He just looked back at me, rolling his eyes but
smiling anyway.
I was lacing up my skates when I saw them, cameras ready to go. I poked Rob’s side and pointed nonchalantly. He nodded when he caught sight and took my hand, needing me to lead him onto the ice. Poor guy—Lila was a better skater than he was. It was one hit after another; much to his dismay, Rob couldn’t keep from crashing into me and taking me down with him. I laughed until tears ran down my cheeks, always hopping up quickly so I could get him going again. He smiled sheepishly, his cheeks getting redder from the dropping temperatures.
“I’m a mess!” he wailed, arms flailing as he tried to skate over to me. People around us began to laugh, some even took notice of who Rob actually was. It suddenly seemed as if every teenage girl within a five mile radius was standing eagerly around the rink, watching every move he made.
“I thought Edward Cullen was good at everything?” I smirked, speaking low enough so only he could hear me. He laughed, accepting my hand up. “Your loyal fan base has found you.” Once he was steady, Rob flashed a dazzling smile at the bystanders. Then he took my hand.
“When would Edward ever have a need to skate?”
…
Returning the rental skates was a disaster. Girls flocked from every direction, pinning Rob against the rental shack, asking for autographs. At first, I was a little startled at being pushed out of the way; but once I regained my composure, I suppressed a smile and gave him an apologetic look. He sure was cute when he was ambushed by adoring fans; he smiled and was friendly, but he hated crowds and that part of him blushed like a tomato and laughed nervously. Then the paparazzi joined in the fun. Rob saw the flashes and pushed through to reach me. I latched onto his arm and he tried to lead me out of the mass of people, most just New Yorkers enjoying the nice night. And the cameras got out too, following us down the street.
“Give her a kiss!” some chanted.
“So when’s the wedding?”
“Does Kristen know about your relationship?
“Are you still seeing Kristen? What about Emillie?” Robert’s pace quickened and I saw his jaw muscles clench.
“Just glance back and give a quick smile.” He instructed me quietly. “One…two…three…smile.” At once, the two of us smiled for a flash and then we were on our way again.
“Oh come on!” a man called. “Kiss her already! I would!” My hand throbbed inside of his and my arm felt like he was going to tear it from its socket.
“What about you? Abbey, right?” he called after us as we rounded a corner. “Kiss him! Don’t you want your picture in the magazines?”
“Can’t you just go find someone else?” I huffed and tried to match Rob’s pace. We’d finally reached his apartment and raced up the steps.
Rob slammed the door behind us and rubbed his temples. I gently grabbed his hand and lead him to his door, unlocking it and pulling him inside and onto the couch.
“Thanks for taking me skating.” I whispered, placing kisses on his neck and face. I felt his lips twitch into a small smile.
“I’m sorry Abbey.” He took me in his arms and cradled me. We curled up into the couch, sitting in silence. Words were sitting on the tip of my tongue; I’d been dying to spit them out since the run-in with the paparazzi. What had happened to Kristen?
“So, Rob.” I began slowly, trying to pick my words carefully. “Were you and Kristen…an…item?” His body stiffened against mine; I’d struck a nerve.
“Just because those bastards were shouting about it,” he muttered, his voice rough and his hands falling to his sides.
“I’m just curious.” I replied cowering into the side of the couch.
“What does it matter?” He sure was snappish.
“You don’t have to get mad.”
“You can’t believe what they say Abbey.” He moved abruptly and was soon standing.
“It was just a question.” I countered, my voice steadily rising in volume. “You don’t have to go berserk. Unless you’re hiding something.” Rob’s mouth opened to speak but he stayed silent. I smirked.
“That doesn’t mean I’m hiding something. I just can’t believe you would accuse me!”
“Well maybe if you hadn’t gotten so defensive!” I was shouting now.
“I wasn’t getting defensive. Jesus! Why would you even feel the need to ask in the first place? Those people just create rumors and then they fuel them. You can’t listen to them Abbey.”
“Well I think you’re getting a little too worked up over something you claim to be insignificant.” I shoved my arms into my coat and stomped over to the door. “All I did was ask a simple yes or no question. I don’t even care if you did date. Big deal, so the two of you fucked. But if you’re not going to be honest about it—well that’s just immature.” I had nothing more to say and I slammed the door behind me.
…
So Thanksgiving was sort of marked now. Rob left on Wednesday without a word and by Thursday morning his plane could have struck down for all I knew.
“Just call him already.” Jo sighed, scooping the gelled cranberries out of the can.
We had already been to the parade and it hadn’t held nearly as much magic for me as it had in the past. All I could think about was Rob. We left each other on a sour note and I was to blame.