Sunday meant catching up on work he'd missed on the weekdays and having extra time on hand to overthink about what Giselle and Xavier were up to, though the latter occupied Chris more than he liked.

An alarm beeped on his phone, and he shut the laptop with a sigh. It was almost noon, which meant it was time to get ready for the date he'd promised a certain Abigail. He gathered his files and folders from around his bed, putting them together in a pile, and placed them in the drawer of his side table.

Jogging into his bathroom, he looked at himself in the mirror and instantly noticed that thirty minutes were not enough for him to look his best. It was a date, after all. A date he wished was with someone else, but a date, nonetheless.

Although he didn't plan to see her again in the foreseeable future after today, she still didn't deserve to be treated like she was an extra. It wasn't her fault, after all, that the man she was seeing today was chronically in love with his best friend.

Chris exhaled audibly, placed his hands on the brim of the sink, and closed his eyes. What's wrong with me?

He didn't want to keep thinking about Giselle. If she was happy with Xavier, there was nothing Chris could do about it. He needed to move on. He needed to get over her.

His fingers ached, and he realized he was squeezing the sink a bit too tightly, his knuckles going white. Cursing in his mind, he took in a deep breath and tried to calm himself.

The love he felt for Giselle was slowly sucking the life out of him, and what hurt the most was the realization that he'd gladly do it all again. If she accepted his love for a single minute, then break his heart, he'd live his entire life with the memory of that one blissful moment.

Pathetic. He sounded pathetic even to himself.

It was an ache inside his chest that he couldn't get rid of. How had she bound him to her? There was no chance for them to ever be together, then why couldn't he uncross his hopeful fingers?

He heard a beep of his phone, snapping him out of his thoughts. He walked out of the bathroom toward the iron stand where his phone was being charged. It was a text message from Abbott.

Abbott: Did we lose the contract with R. B. Corp?

Chris: Yes. But they were the ones who backed out, so we aren't at loss according to clause 17 of the contract.

Abbott: Why did they cancel?

Chris: No idea. Maybe because we took their rival company as our client yesterday.

Abbott: Good riddance, then. Unprofessional fools.
I'll be there soon. Look after the projects. I want the weekly report on my desk by Tuesday. Also the yearly Employee Evaluation.

Chris: You'll have the weekly report as soon as you're back, and the evaluation report will be on your desk within fourteen days once HR forwards it to me.

Abbott: Perfect.

Chris: Everything okay at your end?

Abbott: Oh, you know how it gets when we're here. Ruth asked about you, by the way.

Chris: Pay my regards.

Abbott: Your friend is being a bit distant, too. I'm worried about her.

Chris: I'll talk to her.

Abbott: Thank you.
See you soon, okay? Take care, son.

Chris: You too. Goodbye.

He opened Giselle's chat. It had been two days and she hadn't sent him a single message. Not that he was big on texting, she knew that, but he also wished she knew that she was an exception, that a single word from her could put his mind at ease.

Chris: You okay?

Her reply came within a few minutes.

Giselle: I don't know. Missing you.

Chris: Come back then.

Giselle: You come over.

Chris: Do you know me at all?

Giselle: When I'm back, I'll set fire to your laptop. And I'll have daddy fire you.

Chris: And I'll get you evicted, Candice.

Giselle: *Gasps* Daddy won't kick me out of my house.
And Candice?

Chris: He'll throw you out no sooner than he'll fire me.
Candice from Phineas and Ferb. Remember? The one who wanted to bust the kids.

Giselle: You're right, agh. Daddy does love you a lot.
Oh yeah! Major nostalgia. Remember that song we always used to sing?

Chris: What can I say? I'm irresistible.
Bow chika, bow, bow. That's what my baby says.

Giselle: Irresistibly annoying.
Mow, mow, mow and my heart starts pumpin'

Chris: Chicka chicka choo wap. Never gonna stop.

Giselle: Gitchee gitchee goo means that I love you. Hahaha! I loved this! We need to re-watch it!

Chris: Growing up is what we need.

Giselle: That's how you remove yourself from my 'favorites' list.

Chris: No growing up for me, then.

Giselle: Don't you dare!

Chris: How do you feel, Pigtails?

Giselle: Surprisingly better. How do you do it?

Chris: What can I say? I'm incredible.

Giselle: Incredibly ugly.

Chris: Your message has been successfully ignored.
See you soon?

Giselle: You betcha!
Gitchee gitchee goo.

Chris: We're lame!

Giselle: THANK GOD!

He smiled, also feeling a little better.

And with the final glance at the clock, he panicked.

The date!

Chris cursed his best friend for landing him into this mess. Seated in a restaurant on a Sunday afternoon, he waited for a woman he didn't even remember the face of. For all he knew, maybe both of them were waiting for each other in different corners of the same restaurant.

She was thirty minutes late. Chris allowed himself to wait for fifteen more, and then he'd leave considering himself lucky to have gotten out of an unwanted social interaction.

"Excuse me?" A soft voice called from behind him.

Turning his head toward the source, he slowly stood up with a smile. "You must be Abigail."

"Yes. Chris?"

"Have a seat." He let her sit in his place adjusting the chair for her as she settled down.

"Thank you." She smiled, putting her black bag on the floor beside her chair.

Chris seated himself across her, and it was then that he took in her appearance. She wore khaki jeans with a skin-colored sweater. It coincidentally matched Chris's black pants with a cream-colored t-shirt underneath his black jacket.

Her hair was curled and pulled back into a ponytail with a few strands loose to frame her face. Her pink lips shined as they stretched into a sincere smile.

For a moment, Chris didn't regret agreeing to the date.

"Uh, you look lovely," he said, leaning in with his elbows on the table.

"Thank you," she accepted the compliment like she owned it, making him smile. Her confidence was the first thing that he noticed about her personality.

She then waved her hand toward the waiter to order a glass of water.

"Just water?" asked Chris.

"For now." She grinned, then leaned in as if telling him a secret and whispered dramatically, "It's just that I get thirsty when I'm nervous." A pink shade crept up to her neck as she focused her eyes on the table and then up at him again.

Chris smiled at how easy to like she was. "Nervous, huh?"

The tint on her neck darkened, and she waved her hand to dismiss him playfully.

"So, Abigail--"

"Abby, please."

Chris chuckled. "So, Abby, what do you do?"

The waiter arrived with a glass of water before she could say something. She gestured to Chris with a finger to excuse her as she took a few sips, and then spoke, "I work as a PA for Rachel Brown."

"Rachel Brown?"

"Yeah, I don't know if you know her, but she and her husband run an entertainment firm. Have you heard of the R. B. Corp?" She blinked.

"Uh, yeah. Didn't they just cancel a contract with a publishing agency recently?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You know that how?" Her long nails clicked the table repeatedly which was starting to distract him.

He smirked. "I have my sources."

Her lips pulled up elegantly into a cheeky grin as she said, "I'm not supposed to reveal anything. Confidentiality and all."

Chris pursed his smiling lips. "I understand."

"Why were you asking anyway?"

He waited a few seconds. "The last contract they canceled was with us."

Her eyes widened. "They say your firm is bound to shut down if it kept going the way it is!"

His mouth parted, but then he chuckled. "When one considers the other a threat, the easiest thing to do is to air rumors," he said, then raised his hands in surrender, "No offense!"

Abby shrugged and sipped her water. "None taken. I don't care about the wench. She's a pain in my tushy." He laughed at her words, and she grinned. "Seriously! I've argued with her this very morning."

"Really? What happened?"

...and the words kept flowing. They talked endlessly about politics, business, and current affairs. Their conversation did turn toward personal topics, like where they were from, what they liked to do in their free time, and what their childhood was like, and the rest revolved around food and weather. Abby insisted on paying, but Chris beat her to it.

She'd taken an Uber to the restaurant, so Chris drove her home after they had lunch. They stopped for some ice cream on the way and laughed about the marketing propagandas done by incompetent brands.

Chris was pleasantly surprised. And by the time he dropped her off, they decided to meet again after two days.