a sigh. "She needed to be aware of the wedding invitations." Why don't t

ppose. The invites haven't arrived with the statio

he had even asked her the question, but he nodded. "She was very professional and courteous," Abigail

few months away, and she really needs you right now. Besides, I don't think days of sitting down will do anything for your diet." She wanted to throw a pillow at her mom. Really? Not one ounce of encouragement or congratulations? Abigail gritted her teeth. "Just think of it this way; now that I'm making money, I can get them a better wedding present." Her mother still looked skeptical. "You had better get them a very nice present," she said. "Matt had to go through a lot of trouble to get you this job." Yes, because I can't get anything on my merit. That was probably why he recommended me. To get them a better wedding present. She doubted the dickhead had anything resembling a conscience which needed easing. "I will, Mom." Abigail forced a smile as she packed the rest of her belongings in the last cardboard box and taped it shut. It was eight at night, only a little less than six hours since she had been officially hired to work for Daniel Davis. This was the fastest move she had ever made, even faster than when she had moved out of her-excuse her, Matt's-apartment. Except now, she needed to get out of her parents' basement before they drove her crazy, or they discovered the stash of junk food she kept under the couch as she dealt with the worst wedding craze ever. She'd take her stuff to the new apartment, which was, luckily, already available. Daniel Davis had raised his eyebrows when she had asked for the key, but he had given it to her without question. She planned to unload everything herself and sleep on the floor tonight. Her mother sighed loudly for the umpteenth time that evening. "I wish you had thought this through, dear." "I already have," Abigail said. "Really. It's a good decision, Mom. For all of us. This place will be good for me." "I just wish you had thought about your sister before going." Abigail rolled her eyes. Rachel was hardly dependent on her, and she had her own life to live. Why the hell would she have to think about Rachel before every decision she made? She grinned. That was Matt's job now. "I'm going, Mom. Deal with it," she snapped. She lifted the box, walked through the open door, and set the box on the grass beside her car. Her mom went off to sulk, leaving Abigail to move her stuff, which was all right with her, even though it took twice as long and left her exhausted. At least the apartment came furnished. As she slammed the trunk of her car shut, her father came out of the house. "Your mother's crying inside," he said, looking like he wanted to come with her. "Yo