Losing Control

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Abby Sixsmith watched her brother and couldn't contain a surge of envy. He looked so happy!

It was so unfair. Greg, who since a teenager, had sworn he'd never marry, had just exchanged vows a few hours ago. Abby, who had been dreaming of her wedding for most of her life, sat at his reception single and dateless.

Can you say loser?

Of course, if she hadn't given her heart to her brother's best friend, who'd also sworn off matrimony as a teen, she might not be in this predicament. Opportunities for love long lasting had come and gone, due to her tunnel vision on the subject. At twelve years of age she'd decided that Nikolas Janiszewski was the one. And that childish certainly had rooted deep and flourished with time.

For the last few years she'd done her best to stay away from him. Being in his sphere filled her heart with an unbearable ache. Because she knew – she knew – her dreams were hopeless. As a single, successful, and let's not forget good looking guy, he generally had some wannabe on his arm. Didn't they know they were wasting their time? Didn't they care? Didn't they have any self respect?

Didn't she? Maybe she wasn't physically clinging to him, but from an emotional standpoint, she'd been hanging off him for years. Perhaps it was time to try to surgically remove him from her heart. Instead of sitting here with her back to the dance floor – the maid of honour had wrapped herself around him a while back and Abby couldn't bear to watch – she should be out there having some fun. Fun that didn't include him!

"Hey, Abby Normal. How come you're not dancing?"

How wrong was that? She loved a guy who looked at her and thought of a character from Young Frankenstein. How much more proof did she need that it was time to move on and forget him? She'd never be anything more to him than his best friend's kid sister.

"Abby?

Now or never. The time had come to exorcise him.

She slid around in her chair and looked at him. Arched a brow. "What? No cling on in tow?"

"Klingon?"

"Not K. C. Cling... on. The maid of honour has been your own personal barnacle since the dancing began."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Hey, what's a guy to do? Besides, the best man has a duty to make the single ladies here happy, doesn't he?"

Oh, great. He'd sought her out because of a sense of duty. "Thanks, but no thanks."

A pained expression crossed his face. "No. I wasn't including you in that. You could never be a duty. You're... you're..."

"I'm Abby Normal. Your best friend's interfering kid sister. Yeah, I know. And you want to know something? I get that." She ducked her head and continued under her breath. "Finally. Maybe."

When she didn't look back up, he squatted down in front of her. Poor guy wasn't used to being ignored by anything female. Well, it was time she grew a backbone and started a new trend. Of course, she doubted it would ever become a popular trend, because chances were no one without a Y chromosome would jump on the let's pretend Nik Janiszewski doesn't exist train with her.

His hands took hers, and no matter how hard she tried to loose herself from his grip, he wasn't letting go. "What's with you? Let me go. I told you, you don't need to waste your time keeping this "single lady" happy."

With a sigh, he swung himself up onto the empty chair beside her, but kept control of the hand closest to it. "Abs, give it up. I wasn't insulting you, okay? And why are you here alone, anyway? I haven't seen you without someone in tow in ages. Not that I've seen you in ages."

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