“Your mother will keep the apartment.”
“She’ll be all alone.” He hesitated and Mallory balked, and slowly understood that this was so much worse than she ever realized. “She won’t be alone, will she?”
“She’ll talk to you all about it.”
“Dad.” Mallory pressed the issue. “I need to hear it. Now.”
He paused, as if figuring out the right course of action. They’d had a plan and she was stepping on it. “Your mother has had some rather affectionate feelings for Forest Holloway for some time now.”
“The tennis pro from the club?”
“He’s a nice guy.”
“He was my tennis instructor. I don’t believe any of this is happening. What do you expect me to do with this information? Your parents get divorced when you’re nine, not thirty.”
He covered her hand with his. “Take some time. When you’re ready, we’ll be here. It’s going to be a time of transition for all of us, but we’ll get through this.” They then moved into one of the most awkward lunches she’d ever experienced, alternating between eating in silence and attempting some semblance of small talk. Mallory was angry, that much she knew. But she had too many sources to wade through. She was angry with her father, her mother, and with herself for not picking up on any of it. But underneath it all, she was hurt and disillusioned. If her parents, who were smart, successful, and gracious individuals, couldn’t find a way to make it work, then what was the point?
She walked the few blocks to the subway in a kind of stupor, trying to make sense of it all. What would this mean for Christmases, birthdays, family get-togethers? Would she now be dividing her time between both sets of parents? Would she have stepparents? Janice was maybe fifteen years older than she was, if that. Her head spun and her skin felt cold. Maybe she just needed to push it out of her mind for now. Focus on other things.
On the train, she took out her laptop and did her best to work on some of the language for the upcoming Foster Foods pitch, but her mind just wouldn’t go there. It was like she was broken, incapable of proper focus. She shut her laptop and made an executive decision. Fifteen minutes later, she stood outside of Showplace. It pushed her so outside of her comfort zone to talk about the personal details of her life, yet at the same time she was supposed to be pushing herself harder to relinquish a little bit of that control. That meant exposing her vulnerable side to Hope, as terrifying as that seemed. And right now, she felt about as vulnerable as she ever had been.
With a deep breath, she pushed open the door. She scanned the bar, which was fairly quiet, given it was the middle of the afternoon. Teddy stood behind the bar, and a waitress spoke to a couple at a table. No Hope. Teddy smiled as she approached. “Mallory, you’re looking stunning as ever today. Can I get you a drink?”
“No thanks, Teddy. Is she here?”
His eyes dimmed a bit. “No. Probably won’t be in until later. She’s working out some things off site today.”
“Oh.” Mallory said, intrigued by how purposefully vague he seemed. “I guess I’ll text her then. Thanks, Teddy.”
She sent Hope a text, but she didn’t answer. Maybe she was home. Her building was only a few blocks down. She could stop by and see if Hope was around. She’d actually never seen her place.
*
Hope hung up the phone, frustrated and not sure what to do about it. Her landlord wasn’t the most understanding guy, and it didn’t help that she’d asked for an extension twice last year. What he didn’t understand was that things had been infinitely better this year, and that these were circumstances outside of the business. He had nothing to worry about, but she just hadn’t been able to convince him of that.
Bottom line. She needed money. She’d made a call to her uncle but had to leave a voice mail. She could talk to a bank about a temporary loan. Three thousand would get her through. It was possible the landlord of her apartment building could extend her a month and she could pick up some cash there. Regardless, she wasn’t about to give up. She’d seen worse times and made it through.
The knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Fully expecting Mrs. Warkowski, Hope headed to the door. She was pretty sure Matt Lauer wasn’t on in the middle of the afternoon, but perhaps Alex Trebek was broken. But, turned out, it wasn’t Mrs. Warkowski at all.
“Hi,” Mallory said and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
“Hey,” Hope said back. Regardless of her day, Mallory had a way of making her smile, which she realized she was actively doing in this moment. “I was so not expecting you.”
“I realize that. And I can go if you’re busy,” Mallory said, gesturing behind her. “I stopped by the bar and Teddy said you were out, so I thought maybe you were home and then—”
“Mallory?”
“Yeah?”
“You should come in and stop explaining.”
“Got it.”
Hope followed Mallory into the room, taking in the space through new eyes. “It’s not much,” Hope told her. “But it’s home. I like it.”
Mallory scanned the living room and turned back to her. “I like it too. It’s very you.”
“Define me.”
“Attractive without a lot of fuss. It’s one of your selling points.”
“I could maybe get some curtains.”
“Do you want curtains?”
“I feel like you would.”
Mallory nodded. “True. But that doesn’t mean you have to.” They were off to a weird start today. Things felt a little off-kilter.
“How’s your day so far?” Hope said, settling onto the couch. Mallory joined her there but didn’t answer right off.
“It’s sucked,” she said finally. “How’s yours?”
Hope glanced at the ceiling. “About the same. What went wrong on your end?”
Mallory hesitated. “You first.”
“Oh, no. It’s a long, drawn-out story that you don’t want to hear. Trust me.”
Mallory inclined her head, those blue eyes big and earnest. “Trust me when I say that I do.” Mallory took Hope’s hand and threaded their fingers.
It was quite a sight, their hands, and Hope stared at them, basking in the warmth the image inspired. As much as she didn’t want to involve Mallory in any of this, she’d promised she’d try not to hold back. She said the words before she could talk herself out of it.
“We had a robbery at the bar. Some money was taken. Now you.”
Mallory sat up a little taller. “Hold on. When did this happen?”
“Saturday night.”
“Okay. So someone stole from the register?”
Hope got up and walked the length of the living room, because she didn’t want to explain any further. She wasn’t excited about the idea of confessing to one of the wealthiest people she’d ever met that she was now in woeful financial trouble as a result of this break-in. Hell, Mallory already heard all the gory details about her addict sister and her affiliation with a highly dangerous dealer. Hope had worked her ass off to get where she was in life, and good things were just starting to come her way. Why did Mallory have to be here to witness all of the backsliding? Embarrassing—that’s what it was.
“Hope, talk to me. That’s what I’m here for.”
“What if I don’t want to talk?”
“Well, that’s just silly,” Mallory told her and crossed the short distance between them until she stood in front of her. She slid her arms loosely around Hope’s waist and looked up at her. “Kiss me.”
“What?” Hope felt her lips tug into a half smile at the out-of-place request. “While I’m always happy to kiss you, what prompted the request?”
“Well, you and I seem to have no problems whatsoever when it comes to the sexy kissing and other extracurriculars. I just thought maybe we need a reminder of an area of our relationship we should try to live up to.”
The logic wasn’t flawed, and it wasn’t like she’d ever pass up a chance to kiss Mallory. Plus, she looked e
xtra cute today with that full-on determination thing happening. Hope lowered her head to Mallory’s lips and lost herself. And as their lips and tongues tangled, she sank further into Mallory, who smelled like fresh berries today.
“I needed that,” Mallory said, leaning her forehead against Hope’s.
“Me too. God. Let’s do more.”
Mallory placed a finger on Hope’s lips. “Later. The robbery.”
Hope nodded and took a step back. “Someone stole the night deposits from Friday and Saturday night from my desk at the bar, as well as a locked box that contained some money I was saving. A lot of money.”
“Whoa,” Mallory said, wandering blankly back to the couch. “That’s horrible.”
“Yeah. The whole thing has kinda thrown a wrench in my pay-the-rent-on-time goal.”
“No fallback funds?”
Hope winced at the question and the fact that she now had to answer it. “Not anymore, no.”
“Hope, you can’t leave money in your desk like that.”
“I know. It was a stupid thing to do, and I had every intention of getting it to the bank, but it’s not like I can change it now.”
“Did you call the police?”
“Of course I did.” These were normal questions, but somehow they came with an edge that made Hope feel inept, like Mallory had to check her homework for her. Call it a pride thing, but it annoyed her. “I filed a report on Sunday.”
“Have you interviewed staff?”
Hope covered her eyes with her hand. “Mallory, please. I have it under control.”
“What are you going to do about the shortfall on rent?”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll figure it out, okay? Can’t we just worry about us?”
The question didn’t make sense to Mallory, because to her it was all one thing. What was it about relationships anyway? Why did they have to be so ridiculously complicated? The memory of lunch with her father, the understanding that her parents’ marriage was over and that it was never what she thought it was, played heavily in the forefront of her mind. Maybe this whole love thing was a sham. But no, she had to try. She found Hope’s eyes and attempted to explain.
“But you’re part of us. And I do worry, because you happen to matter to me. A lot.” Mallory reached for her bag and pulled out a checkbook. “So how much do you need?”
Hope pointed at the checkbook automatically. “No. Uh-uh. Absolutely not.”
Mallory stared at her, not understanding. “What’s the problem? I don’t mind helping.”
“Well, I mind you helping.” The incredulous look on Hope’s face caught Mallory off guard. Because why in the world would she refuse Mallory’s help?
“Hope. Consider it a loan. You can pay me back when you have it.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want your money.”
“Okay. Then what’s your plan?”
“I have a call into one of my uncles to see if he can—”
“I’m standing right here with a checkbook in my hand,” Mallory said, the anger and hurt escalating now. “Why is it that I’m good enough to have a little fun with, but when it comes to matters of real life, you want me completely out of the way?”
Hope held her hands out in obvious frustration. “Because I can take care of this myself.”
“Obviously not,” Mallory said. The comment hung in the air, and for a moment no one moved. It had sounded better in her head. Mallory could admit that much.
“Wow.”
Mallory closed her eyes briefly. “That’s, of course, not what I meant.”
“Or maybe it’s exactly what you meant.” Hope’s eyes flashed. “You’ve got it all together, Mallory, and I applaud you. I do. But I’m sure the trust fund from daddy helped just a tad, so please don’t try to teach me the finer points in life, because I, for one, am doing it all on my own.”
The comment landed and lodged somewhere quite close to home. “Fine. Figure it out for yourself. It’s what you want anyway.”
“You have no idea what I want.”
She met Hope’s eyes. “Truer words have never been spoken.” She glanced around, mystified by her present situation. “What am I even doing here?” she asked the air around her. With a dismissive shake of her head, Mallory reached for her bag and walked quietly from the apartment and didn’t look back.
As she made her way onto the street, the hum of the traffic rang extra loud and the street seemed way too crowded. Faceless individuals bustled past on their way somewhere that mattered. She battled a series of unidentifiable emotions as each took its turn with her, twisting into uncomfortable revelation.
Remorse.
Sadness.
Loss.
But it was for the best, wasn’t it? If it could hurt this badly now, what about in a year? Five? Twenty? There was a reason, she now realized, that she’d avoided love all this time. Today, and all she’d learned and experienced, was an excellent example. Because love ripped you apart and left you there to reassemble the pieces of yourself.
This wasn’t for her.
And looking at how her parents ended up, what was the point?
She walked slowly, all the while trying desperately to figure it all out.
*
Four hours later and Hope realized she needed to head into work. The afternoon had been a god-awful one, and she still wasn’t past it. The money situation was still very much up in the air, but it was the argument with Mallory that had her raw.
With perspective, she could see that Mallory’s heart had been in the right place. She just hadn’t been in the headspace to compensate for that. They were so different, the two of them, which widely had to come from the way each of them grew up. Mallory didn’t understand what it was like to struggle for everything you had, to be proud of yourself one minute and then struggling again the next. But then again, it wasn’t like Hope had taken the time to enlighten her either.
She sighed as she descended the steps. Night fell around her, calm and cool. The stars peeked out from behind a few stray clouds; the kind of night Hope normally relished felt inconsequential and bland.
First fights were rough.
Not that she had a lot of experience with them. Mallory was the first woman she could safely say mattered to her, beyond any sort of casual dating. Mallory mattered, which is why as she walked she played their interaction over and over again on some sort of horrific loop. Then she thought of all the fantastic times they had together, laughing, talking, kissing as the sun came up.
Hope could have handled it all better.
She could have explained to Mallory why it was hard for her to accept the loan, when she wanted Mallory to see her as someone self-sufficient and successful. Or she could have swallowed her pride and accepted help from someone who’d yet to disappoint her.
She closed her eyes at the reality. Because what had she done instead? Gone and pushed Mallory away once again—maybe for good this time.
Intent to figure this out and make it right, she pulled her phone from her pocket.
“Hey, Teddy,” she said when he answered. “I’m on my way in but need to make a stop first.”
“Take your time,” he said over the din of the bar. “Your Boy Wonder has everything under control. I’m making these Smash things like it’s my job. Oh, wait, it is!”
She laughed. “Well, someone’s in a good mood.”
“Just that kinda day,” he said. “The bar’s hopping in a good way. It misses you.” She smiled and cut through the narrow alley that would drop her closer to Mallory’s building.
“I’ll be there before you know it.”
“I have some interesting information to pass on to you when you get here.”
Her interest was piqued. “As long as it’s not bad news, I’m all in.”
“Quite the opposite,” Teddy said. “You’re gonna like this.”
She clicked off the call and lifted her gaze just in time for a fist to hit her square in the face. She fe
lt the concrete against her cheek first, followed by the blow to her ribs, and then another, and another.
And then it was dark.
Chapter Fourteen
It was the end of the workday and Mallory heard Samantha packing up behind her. The other two had packed it in earlier, but she had no intention of leaving any time soon, however, and kept her face in her laptop, toggling away on the presentation she was prepared to nail that week for Serenity, a New York-based spa with a history of being hard to please. They liked things done a certain way, but it was Mallory’s goal to make them see the light. It turned out Savvy knew a thing or two about advertising. Now if she could just get them to listen…
“Wanna come over for dinner tonight, Mal? I’m making my famous pasta and pesto.”
She kept her eyes on the screen. “No, thanks. I’m gonna burn the midnight oil a bit tonight. Knock out this presentation.”
“You’ve been slogging away at that thing all day. You haven’t come up for air once. You okay?”
“Totally fine,” she said. Not true at all. She’d mired herself with work-related tasks all day to occupy her mind and keep her from ruminating too long on the events from yesterday, also known as one of the worst days of her life thus far. She should inaugurate it somehow, if it didn’t upset her so much to think back on it. Her mother had called, just as her father had professed she would. She let the call go to voice mail. The one call she had waited on, however, hadn’t come. She’d broken down and texted Hope late last night when her heart got the better of her head.
Can we talk?
The lack of response hurt almost as much as the argument itself.
So she tried not to dwell on it. Try being the operative word.
“You’ve been beyond quiet today,” Sam said. “Something’s up.”
Mallory shook her head. “Nope. All is well.”
A pause.
“Mal. Look at me.”
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