by Moore, M. K.
After thirty minutes, I move to the ab cruncher and do 200 neck-saving sit-ups. Once I'm done, I head back up to the twenty-ninth floor to shower. Based on its location, her apartment seems like it would be pretentious, but with the way she has it decorated it feels like a home. It’s shabby chic, I think. I don’t know, I don’t really pay attention to these things. I put on some jeans and a black button up. Due to the weather, I opt for my traditional prosthetic and my boots. I grab my wallet, keys, and black pea coat. Giggles is chilling in a fuck ton of blankets in the corner. I refill her water bowl and leave her in peace.
Leaving the apartment, I hail a cab to Chelsea. I am still a bit early, so I start my Christmas shopping. My parents are coming here for a few days before heading to France to spend New Year's Eve with my sister. I find stuff for my family pretty quickly. I also picked up a leather-bound journal that has an M etched on the front and a fancy fountain pen. Thanks to Mallory’s Facebook page, I know she is obsessed with office supplies. I feel like this is a winner.
A little while later, I am passing a jewelry store when a funky ring in the window captures my attention. It's a solitaire diamond with a rose gold band. What makes it funky is the cut of the diamond. It's in the shape of an open book. It screams Mallory. I head into the store thinking I'll just buy it, so I have it for the future. Day two and I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with her.
“Welcome to Johannes Jewels. How can I help you today?” a grandmotherly type woman asks me.
“Well, Ingrid,” I say, looking at her name tag, “what can you tell me about the ring in the window?”
“Ah, yes. That was a special acquisition. That and its matching wedding bands were from the estate of famed author Desmonda Restoria and her husband Captain John Morgan. He had the set designed just before their wedding in 1899. It's valued at just under twenty thousand dollars for all three rings. We do have free sizing if you need it.”
I think about that. I know I'll never find a more perfect ring than this. It’s fate that I just happened to be walking by. I am choosing to ignore the two different voices in my head. One that says this is crazy and it's too damn soon and the other, louder voice that tells me she'll say no. That I'm not what she has in mind for forever.
“I'll take it.” I got quite a large settlement from the Army, plus I'll get a monthly check due to being placed on the Permanent Disability Retired List. I also invested wisely with both my pay from the Army and the inheritance I received from my grandparents years ago. I can reasonably afford this, plus I start my new job at my buddy Frank's security firm next week. He deals in personal security for celebrities themselves, as well as their computers, home alarms and the like. Any bit of technology really. That's what I'll be doing. I learned a lot while I was in the Army and just because I can't physically do the job anymore, there's no way in hell I can just sit on my ass for the rest of my life. I’ll be doing my job from home for the time being. Frank is having all of my equipment delivered tomorrow. I think it will be nice since Mallory works from home a lot. I plan on spending extraordinary amounts of time with her. Near her. In her.
“Excellent. Would you like to try on the groom's ring? I can squeeze in an adjustment in now,” she asks after grabbing the rings from the display. She lays them out on the black felt area on the glass countertop. I pick up the largest ring and slide it on the ring finger of my left hand. It's a perfect fit. I take it back off and she boxes both of the bands separately from the engagement ring. I hand over my American Express card and wait impatiently. After signing the receipt, I put the bag with the bands inside another one of my bags and the engagement ring in my jacket pocket.
Thanking Ingrid, I head back out into the cold air. I decide to walk the three blocks to Charley's. When I arrive, Mallory still isn't here, but I grab a table and order us each a beer. Looking around I see that this is just a typical Irish pub. A hole in the wall gem tucked into the city. It didn’t surprise me that Mallory would connect to a place like this. It isn’t your typical restaurant. It’s charming and welcoming. The lights hanging above each table are made with old Guinness pint glasses hang from the ceiling and the dark walls matched the dark hard wood floors. As I sit and wait impatiently for her, the ring is burning a hole in my pocket. I know it's insane to even consider asking her to be mine already, but I can't fathom any other woman being more perfect for me.
When she arrives, I stand and push her chair in.
“How was your day?” I ask as she takes what looks like a much-needed sip of her beer.
“Oh my God, Malachi. It was awful. I tried to apologize to that shitbag Chad Beesley, but he just kept hitting on me. I was so uncomfortable, but Lana Blair helped me dodge him. We are going out to dinner Wednesday night. Will you come with me?” She says all of this in one breath, like she has been dying to talk to me all day. I wonder if she gets nervous when she’s upset? This is all little stuff I’m learning about her and I fucking love it. When she takes a sip of her beer, she calms a little more. “How was your day?”
“This morning was amazing,” I say, winking. “Then I worked out, but not before being accosted by paparazzi looking for my girl,” I finish, chuckling.
“Shit,” she says an annoyed look on her face. “I should have warned you about them. Aren't they just terrible?” she asks, her face red.
“They weren't that bad, baby.” She quirks an eyebrow at me and opens her mouth to say something, but she's interrupted by the waitress walking up to the table.
“Hi! I'm Salinger and I'll be your server today. Have you had a chance to decide what y'all want to eat?” Her Southern accent throws me off a bit. I was definitely not expecting that.
“I'll have the Charley's Double Club with extra bacon and French fries. No coleslaw, but extra pickles. Like, lots of pickles. I'll also go ahead and have another beer when you get a chance. Whatever you brought the first time is fine.” I stare in fascination as she orders. “What?” Where the hell does she put all this food she consumes?
“Nothing,” I say before turning to the waitress. “I'd like the Charley's Angus Burger with Swiss cheese and fries. Another beer as well.”
“How do you want that burger cooked?”
“Medium rare,” I reply.
“Perfect. I'll get your order right in and bring those beers over,” she says, jotting down the last of our order.
“Thanks,” Mallory and I say at the same time. I smile at her as we both hand our menus to the waitress. She walks away and Mallory takes my hands in hers.
“Do you want to come with me to my parent's house on the day after Christmas? I know that it might be too soon for you to meet them, but I don't want you to be all alone for Christmas.” I am blown away by this. It means a lot to me that she wants to meet her parents already.
“I'd love to, but my parents are coming into town and leaving New Year’s Eve to go over and see Margo.”
“Are you cooking?”
“Me? Hell no. That would be a disaster,” I answer honestly. “I made a reservation at The Great Wall.”
“The Chinese buffet on Park Avenue?” Her facial expression is one of horror. I am confused by it. Don’t a lot of people eat Chinese food in New York City on Christmas Day?
“Yeah, it was the only thing open,” I say, shrugging.
“You can't feed your parents Chinese food from the worst buffet ever. They will never make it to France if they eat that. Trust me. Just have them come to our place after their plane arrives and I will take care of everything,” she says, smiling and patting my hand on the table. “What time does their flight get in?” The waitress drops off the beers and moves away with a nod.
“Six in the morning. Their hotel is just down the street from the building.” God, again with the adorable look of horror.
“Hotel?” She asks in a whisper, her hand clutching her chest. She is so overdramatic, I fucking love it. “There is a guest room in the apartment. They have to stay with us, Malachi. You can't put
your family in a hotel.” The way she cares about people she has never met resonates with me.
“Marry me,” I blurt out. Her eyes pop up to mine, her mouth hangs open and she fidgets with our joined hands. I was never gonna be able to get down on one knee anyhow, but this just feels so right.
Crazy as fuck, but right.
Chapter 5
Mallory
I stare at him blankly for a few minutes. Every second I don’t answer him seems like a fucking eternity. I have to take a sip of beer to soothe my suddenly dry throat. I'm trying to decide if he's insane or not. I’m leaning towards not, but still, this is insane, right? Do people really get engaged less than twenty-four hours after meeting? Though, if I’m honest, I feel like I have known him forever. He slides a little black box in front of me. It’s open. Inside of it is an engagement ring that’s suited to me, I burst into tears at his thoughtfulness.
“Baby, you gotta stop crying, please. It kills me,” he demands quietly. “I think you know that we are meant to be together. It might be too soon, and everyone will say that we’re fucking crazy, but I don’t care. You want to know what's really crazy?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for me to respond, making me grin. “It's fucking crazy how much I love you already, how I'd do anything for you, how suddenly you’re my whole reason for existing,” he says, banging his fist on the table. I jump, as do our beer glasses and silverware. The waitress comes over with a tray, but she makes a kind of squeaky noise before saying, “I'll come back.” She turns on her heel and heads back to the kitchen.
“You love me?” I ask, my eyes glued to his face, looking for any kind of sign that this is a joke. I see nothing but love in his eyes.
“Fuck, yes I do.”
“I love you too, Malachi,” I say quietly.
“What was that?” he asks, smirking.
“I love you too.”
“You gonna answer my question?”
“What was the question again?”
“Marry me?”
“Yes,” I reply, letting him slide the ring on my finger.
“Thank fuck. I did some Googling earlier. There’s a waiting period of a day but let's do it soon,” he says. I'm bouncing around in my seat like a toddler on a sugar high. To say that I'm excited to be his wife is the understatement of the century. Isn't it insane how quickly your life can change? I stare at him in awe.
“A whole day? I honestly don't think I can wait that long to be your wife, babe,” I say, trying the nickname on for size. I love it. Just like everything else with him, it's effortless. “Let's just go to Vegas. I have air miles.” I don't have air miles exactly, but I do I have a father that works for Delta and a Delta Rewards credit card.
“Vegas? Are you sure that's what you want? You write romance novels, I don't want you to feel shortchanged.”
He really is the greatest man I've ever known.
“Vegas can be romantic, besides at the end of the day all that matters is that we’re married. I don't give a flying fuck how that happens. Whether it's a church or an Elvis impersonator, the end result is the same. We make our own fairytale—the setting has little to do with our love story.”
“Baby, I'm amazed by you,” he says, smiling.
“That's a song,” I say, laughing as the waitress drops our food off, leaving the check as well. I try to eat my sandwich but I'm too excited. I watch him polish off his burger. He grins, grabbing the check and stands. I do the same and take his outstretched hand. In his other, he gathers up some shopping bags I didn't notice before.
“Been busy?” I ask.
“Very,” he says, winking. We pay and walk out to the street. He hails a taxi and we make the thirty-minute journey home.
“How soon can you be ready?” I ask, already on the Delta website looking for tickets leaving today, but I can’t find any. Tomorrow is the soonest, but they are pretty cheap since it’s Christmas Day.
“Ten minutes.”
“Perfect, give me your driver’s license,” I say. He hands it to me, and I smile as he gazes through the cab window. Malachi Rhys Goranson. Sexy name.
“I found a flight for eight. We’d need to be there by seven-thirty. That’s doable.”
“Sounds good.” I nod and begin entering our information. My hands are shaking so bad from excitement, he takes my phone from me and starts entering his own information. I pick his wallet up from his lap and make myself useful by putting his driver's license away. I don't mean to snoop, it just happens, but I'm floored when I see a picture of myself. It is from five years ago when I was at a literary conference. I had taken Margo with me; she is beside me in a gold dress that looked amazing with her red hair. Running my fingertips over the picture, I remember that black corseted dress. I felt like the sexiest woman in the world.
“Where did you find this picture?” I ask softly. He looks up from my phone.
“My mom sent it to me when I was in Iraq.”
“That was nice of her,” I say, still a bit in shock.
“My mom is a huge fan of yours. She was so excited when Margo said that you were her new roommate.”
“That's horrifying.” I try to hide my horror at the thought of his mother reading all those steamy sex scenes.
“What is horrifying about that?”
“Your mom reads my books,” I say slowly. I am a little mortified. I have no limits when it comes to me writing sexy times.
“She does.”
“Oh my God, my books are entirely too filthy to be enjoyed by a mother. My own mother skips over the sexy bits when she reads it.”
“You have nothing to worry about, Mallory. My mom is very progressive. My grandparents are hippies. It’s all good, I promise.”
“Why hasn’t she ever mentioned she’s a fan? I’ve popped in several times to say hi when Margo has FaceTimed her.” I say quietly. He sets my phone in his lap and grabs up my hand, holding it tightly in his.
“She probably didn’t want to embarrass you by fangirling over you.”
“If you say so.” I worry my necklace back and forth over my lips. Something I only do when I am really nervous.
“Baby, it’s going to be okay, I promise. She already loves you,” he says, bringing my hand to his lips. His kiss sends shivers down my spine.
“Okay,” I say, deciding to trust him. I ignore the voice in my head that is wondering if she just loves my author persona. I must have spoken to her on the phone a million times over the last seven years, but this is so different. So much more. What if she thinks I am not good enough for her son? Like, I am trashy or slutty or something just as awful? I shake my head in an effort to physically end the war raging inside it.
When he kisses my wrist, then moves higher, that does the trick. All thoughts of his mother have left my mind, only to be filled with thoughts of him filling me. Again. I feel like all of my blood is humming with desire. He was the only thing I could think about all morning long. I should have stayed in bed with him.
The following morning, early, I pull out my big suitcase and start packing when a sudden thought occurs to me. I walk across the hall and see him packing one of Margo’s small overnight bags. I gave it to her for her birthday earlier this year.
“You should definitely move your stuff into my room,” I say.
“You’re right.” He grins like a little boy who gets more ice cream before dinner.
“Let me help,” I say, grabbing his over-stuffed Army issue duffel bag. He gathers his running blade, a cane, and his crutch. I dump the duffel bag out on my bed and start folding its contents. “This feels very domestic,” I say, smiling wistfully.
“It does.” His voice is odd, it’s back to that gruff shit from yesterday afternoon.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, frowning.
“Where should I put these? Fuck, I have so much baggage,” he says.
“I don’t mind your baggage, Malachi. Just let me love you.” He stares at me. After a few uncomfortable moments of silence, I decide there’s nothing
else I can say to make him let go of whatever it is that’s bothering him. I don’t know what specific thoughts are going around in his head, but I’m going to make it my life’s mission to get him to understand that the loss of a limb doesn’t make him any less of a man than he was before he lost it. While his physical scars have closed, his emotional ones are still very much raw. I say a quick prayer that I am strong enough to be exactly what he needs to finish healing. “You can have the half of the closet I don’t use. Now, get excited again. We’re getting married,” I exclaim, blinking back tears. I don’t want him to see me cry again. I hate that he thinks this way.
“Are you always going to be right?”
“Probably,” I pause. “Most definitely.” He lets out the loudest laugh I’ve ever heard. I love hearing it from him. Once he stores his things in the closet, I pull some of his shirts and a couple of pairs each of jeans, boxers, and socks into my suitcase. I grab a short black dress that I’ve been saving for a special occasion, my red heeled sandals, a fresh pair of jeans, a Big Bang Theory t-shirt and some panties, and toss it all into the suitcase.
I also empty several drawers and put his folded clothes neatly into them. We are gonna need another dresser. Just as I bend down to pick up a sock I dropped, I feel him behind me. His hard cock digging into my ass.
“You are so fucking beautiful, Mallory.”
“Thank you,” I say, straightening up and turning to face him.”
“I need to taste you,” he growls.
“We don’t have time,” I say, looking at the clock on the wall. It’s already three. My girl Gwen said she would watch Giggles for the day, but I have to drop her off across Central Park. Gwen recently started hanging out on the weekends with her new man, who is, coincidentally, the owner of this fine building.