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. 

I swear a lot? Not much,” I answer.

laughs at me.

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

not ready. I completely understand. It took a

“Soon, hopefully.

dropped by after my session. Andrew mentions that he crashes the couch of one of his friends, and

was so pissed at me

you let a stranger live with you, and a man for God’s sake. I’ll talk to

bite my lip. Howard is going

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

are hundreds of miles away from me and your mom, and you want me to calm down? You’re living with a stranger who could be

and

like him, he’ll be out of your apartment and end of

him know. Thanks, Dad.

celebrate yet, and don’t thank me yet, young woman, and

My brows furrow. “And why

for you to find out.”

someone pats my shoulder.

at the clock for a few minutes already. You didn’t even notice me coming in. What’s

just thinking about my exams tomorrow.”

sure you’ll ace your exams.” He gives

I rise from my chair. “What do we have for dinner? Or would you cook for us tonight?” I follow him,

best friend can cook. He could make something from scratch, and good thing, I have fast metabolisms otherwise, he’s turning me into

leaning his elbows on our granite countertop. I open our dark brown cabinet that matches

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

the box. Why bother the plates, Abby? You’re

to have dinner with me? Going out with friends?” I sit beside him and open the box of Greek Pizza. I grab one slice and start

“Actually, ivadet.” 

My brows crease. “What?”

“I said I have a date tonight.” He didn’t look at me in the eyes.

from his mouth, my eyes

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

woman. Do I know her? What is she like? I mean I’m sure she’s pretty. How did you two meet? When did you replace your condom in your drawer? I’m sure they’re expired two years ago. Do I need

our

the third date when you’re both attracted, duh!” I roll my eyes. 

have sex. Of course, when you’re serious about dating her, you can wait until you both are ready, so start on

slice of pizza, and it’s nice to eat

Rich people like to make their life so

it most men think sex like every seven seconds?” I inquire and laugh at

and not just a fling or maybe a one-night stand

but not too serious. I didn’t even get a chance to meet anyone he dated, and that was

last week. She’s our new client. I happened to be the one who installed the security system in her apartment. She’s beautiful. I even follow

years now, but I didn’t meet his co-workers yet. He said they would just hit on me. 

tail, and says I see you,” I mimic Neytiri, but fails miserably. I

and 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.