Granting one last wish

ABBY

Three years later…

I have to flex my neck a couple of times after hours of review for my finals tomorrow, and I feel drained. I study hard to get good grades and to make my parents proud.

I don’t have to go to college to get a job to pay my bills. I don’t have to work at all. My parents are loaded, and I can have everything I ask for. I can buy whatever I want, travel around the world, dine in the most expensive restaurant, spend summer in a yacht, drink the most expensive wine, and have the most luxurious penthouse in Manhattan or have the fastest car in the world, and date the world sexiest man.

My parents own the biggest hotel chains in the world, King Hotel chains, and Restaurants, and I’m the only heiress. My dad is Michael Aaron King, the best dad every girl can dream of, and Catherine Elizabeth King is the most beautiful woman and the world’s number one mom.

I don’t need an annoying private tutor because I excel academically. Yeah, I’m on my third year in college at Boston State University, two hundred and sixty-six miles away from home, away from my parents, and away from friends.

My life sucks! Just kidding.

I am with my roommate/best friend in an apartment that’s not world-class, but not that bad either. I don’t have a friend. I know it sounds pathetic, but whatever.

I met Andrew three years ago during my therapy. He’s also seeing a doctor who was just another floor down my shrink’s office. We met at the reception, and we clicked right away. I guess we have something in common.

“Hi, um, you’re seeing a doctor here?” he asks me shyly.

“Yeah. For a couple of weeks, you?” I answer and ask back with a little smile. Not all people are good at sharing that they are seeing a therapist, but why should I be ashamed of I if I need one.

“Dr. Peters.” He smiles.

“You?”

“Dr. Wallerman,” I tell in a low voice.

“Hmm. Rich people.” He scrutinizes me from head to toe. Dr. Wallerman is famous for her practice, and I don’t look like I can afford to pay a doctor like her.

“Excuse me?” I ask him when he raises an eyebrow.

“She’s like a celebrity doctor. I’m Andrew, by the way.” He offers his hand for a handshake. I hesitate, but he keeps his hand and waits for me to shake it.

“I’m Ma— I’m Abbygail. Please, call me Abby.” I shake his hand, and then we walk me out of the building.

“Sure, Abby. It suits you. Beautiful name.” He winks at me, which makes me blush. I don’t talk to strangers, and I don’t mingle too when someone gets close to me. The bodyguard Dad’s assigned will automatically shoo them away.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Andrew offers.

I pause and face him. “Actually, I’m walking to a coffee shop.” 

His eyes widen as if he has an idea. “Would you mind if I tag along?

“I don’t mind at all.” 

“Good. Just only been here for a couple of weeks. I’m an ex-military, and you know this PTSD kind of shit. Oh sorry, I swear a lot. Used to in the military. How about you?” he says easily without a single flinch. 

“If I swear a lot?

He laughs at me.

and I’m still in college,” I cut it short. I’m still not comfortable sharing that horrific night even to my Doctor. It takes a while, but I feel better that there’s someone who somehow listens to what I experienced.

ready. I completely understand. It took a while for

shrug. “Soon, hopefully.

he crashes the couch of one of

without even telling dad who was so pissed at me

my rules, you let a stranger live with you, and a man for God’s

lip. Howard is going

do a background check. He’s a good person, trust me.” I roll my eyes because he’s overreacting

down? You’re living with a stranger who could be a psychopath. You’re not an adult yet Mackenzie. Does he

to meet him and just give him a chance.”

like to meet him, and if I don’t like him, he’ll be out of

widens. “Great. I’ll let him know. Thanks, Dad. I love you!”

yet, young woman, and don’t tell him that I’m coming over.”

I stop. My brows furrow.

for you to find out.”  He snaps.

pats my

notice

was just thinking about my exams

worry about it. I’m sure you’ll ace your

rise from my chair. “What do we have for dinner? Or would you cook for us tonight?” I follow him, passing by our small living room to the

next time, but not tonight.” Yeah, my best friend can cook. He could make something from scratch, and good thing, I have fast metabolisms otherwise, he’s turning me into a hippo because of his cooking

the stool, leaning his elbows on our granite countertop. I open our dark brown cabinet that matches the color of

“What do you mean you got me pizza. How about you? What you’re gonna eat?” I take plates and cutlery for us.

eat pizza is directly from the box. Why bother the plates, Abby? You’re so rich

to have dinner with me? Going out with friends?” I sit beside him and open the

ivadet.” 

brows crease.

I have a date tonight.” He didn’t look at me in

the words came from his mouth,

mean, you start dating. That’s good news. I’m happy for you.” I put down my pizza,

your condom in your drawer? I’m sure they’re expired two years ago. Do I need to leave before you come home? Or do I just need to pretend I’m sleeping and wear a headset?” I grin like an idiot.

You’re so funny. Did you check that I have a condom on my nightstand? I’m not getting laid tonight, Abby, and it’s our first date. Jeez, you’re far too excited than me.” He crunches

third date when you’re both attracted, duh!”

Of course, when you’re serious about dating her, you can wait until you both are

I’m already on my second slice of pizza, and it’s nice to eat directly from the box. No hassle.

make their life so difficult. 

“Isn’t it most men think sex like every seven seconds?” I

serious with this one and not just a fling or maybe a one-night stand or a

dated, and that was over

one who

but I didn’t meet his co-workers yet.

with tail, and says I see you,” I mimic Neytiri,

sips his soda. See, he even laughs at my lame joke. We always choose the same movie to watch, even a crappy rom-com—no arguments.