by M. J. Duncan
Mallory hummed and took a pointed sip of her cappuccino.
The woman chuckled, the sound so low and rich and melodious that, were it any other day, Mallory would have smiled back. “Sorry, my friends tell me that I can be a little too nosy sometimes.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “You probably don’t want to spill your heart out to some random stranger, right?”
Mallory tipped her head. “No. Not especially.”
“Completely understandable.” The woman rolled her eyes as her phone buzzed on the table in front of her. “So much for a late start.” She nimbly unfolded herself from her seat, grabbed her kit bag, and slung it over her shoulder. She motioned toward Mallory’s phone and added, “I hope everything works out okay.”
“Me too,” Mallory murmured.
The woman smiled and, with one last lingering look, made her way toward the door, her long, long legs carrying her elegantly through the sparse crowd gathered near the register before she disappeared from sight.
Mallory sighed as she looked back at her coffee and pastry, and pocketed her phone. The idea of eating made her sick to her stomach, and she needed to work off the melancholia that threatened to pull her under. Music had been her lifeline these last ten months, helping to keep her from drifting away into thoughts that were so cold and dark that it was nearly impossible to find a way out, and she could only hope that it would do so again this morning.
She gathered her things with shaking hands and hurried toward the exit. As she crossed the street to the underground entrance, she couldn’t help but lament the fact that what should have been a fun, exciting day was now going to take every ounce of strength she possessed to see it through to the end.
“You’re back! How was your tour?” Lena greeted Mallory with a wide grin.
Mallory smiled as she approached the register at Higher Ground. Lena’s hair was longer than it had been on her last visit but, otherwise, everything seemed the same as it had been before. After seven weeks on the road and then the last whirlwind of a week that she had spent catching up on everything that had been neglected during her time away, she felt herself finally relaxing as the normalcy of the sounds and the smells and the brightness of Lena’s smile assured her that she was finally home. “The tour went well, but it felt like it was downright interminable there at the end.”
“I’ll bet,” Lena chuckled. “That’s a long time to be living out of a suitcase. You want your usual?”
“Please.” Mallory nodded and reached for her wallet. “How was your summer?”
“It was pretty much business as usual around here.” Lena took Mallory’s card and waved it toward the violin hanging off her shoulder. “I thought you lot didn’t start rehearsing again until next week?”
“We don’t. However,” Mallory sighed, “I have a full day of meetings at the Barbican with a couple hours off around midday, so I figured I may as well get started on the bowing notations for the season during that time.”
“Ouch,” Lena commiserated as she handed Mallory her card back. “So much for a break, huh?”
“There’s no rest for the wicked, I’m afraid,” Mallory agreed as she tucked her card back into her wallet.
“Well, rest now, then.” Lean pushed herself up onto the counter to peer toward the back of the shop and nodded as she dropped back to her feet. “Your table is free. Go get comfortable, and I’ll bring your order just as soon as I get the coffee made. I’m guessing your meetings start around your usual ten o’clock?” When Mallory nodded, she added, “Good. So no work for the next forty minutes. Play on your phone, stare at the wall, grab a magazine from the stack on the fireplace hearth, whatever. But just let yourself relax and breathe until you really have to start your day.”
Mallory ducked her head to hide the shy smile that tugged at her lips. Maybe it was because she spent the majority of her days making one decision after another, but there was something especially freeing about just doing as she was told. “You are a saint, Lena Black,” she murmured.
“Bet your ass I am,” Lena agreed with a little laugh. “I’ll have your order out as soon as I can.” She made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go hide from the world for a bit.”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure, hot stuff.”
Mallory took a deep breath as she turned toward the back of the shop, and slipped her briefcase and violin from her shoulder. She laid them on the chair that faced the wall and pulled her phone from the bag, and sighed as she settled into the chair opposite it that provided a relaxing view of the flickering electric fireplace. The flames were dancing as if it were the middle of winter instead of late August—though the weather outside was particularly dreary for a summer day.
It was almost enough to make her miss the dry and sunny weather of Los Angeles.
She blinked away the melancholy that still threatened to overwhelm her whenever she thought of her old life and forced a small smile when Lena appeared at her side with a white ceramic mug and a matching plate.
“One cappuccino and a freshly baked turtle croissant for the beautiful lady,” Lena declared as she set them onto the table.
Mallory shook her head. “You are a terrible flirt; you know that—right?”
Lena shrugged. “Do you want me to stop?”
Mallory huffed a laugh as Lena’s husband came out of the back room. “Your wife is flirting with me again,” she shared with a smile that came easier and felt far lighter than any that had curled her lips in the last few weeks. God, it was good to be home. “Can I keep her?”
“You’re not supposed to tell the usband-hay about the irting-flay,” Lena lectured in a mock whisper.
“My apologies, darling,” Mallory cooed, patting Lena’s hip.
“She’s all yours if you really want her,” Victor laughed.
“Dmitry Petrov!” Lena turned on her husband, her emerald green eyes flashing with mirth. “That’s how that fine arse of yours ends up sleeping on the couch.”
“Yes, well, you’re not snoring out there, so…” Victor teased as he danced away from the playful kick she aimed at him, looking so graceful that it wasn’t hard to imagine him on stage at the Royal Opera House. He had never risen above the rank of first soloist in his time with the company but, according to Lena, that was more because he’d had the unfortunate luck of dancing during the tenure of two disgustingly talented male principals. He had stayed on with the company for a year after Lena’s injury forced her to call it quits, but had decided to hang up his shoes after that. Apparently, it just wasn’t the same for him without her there.
Mallory smiled. “Well, if she snores, then I’m afraid I don’t want her anymore. I’m too old to not get a good night’s sleep.”
“You two are awful, and I hate you both,” Lena grumbled.
Mallory shared an amused look with Victor as she reached out to wrap an arm around Lena’s waist and pull her close. “I apologize, darling. I can buy earplugs if I need to.”
“At least she loves me,” Lena pouted at Dmitry.
He smirked and waggled his eyebrows. “Lucky you.”
Lena gasped and was poised to respond when the bell above the door jingled, and the lightheartedness of the moment disappeared as they all looked toward the front of the shop where a woman had just entered. “Right, well, back to the salt mines for me,” Lena announced with an exaggerated sigh as she wiped her hands on the narrow black apron tied around her waist. “Dmitry, go bug somebody else.” He snapped off a limp salute and laughed as he turned to make his way toward the front counter. “As for you, beautiful—no work until you get to work. Got it?”
“I got it,” Mallory assured her with a smile. “Thank you.”
Lean winked and nodded as she gave Mallory’s shoulder a light squeeze before turning to join her husband at the counter.
Even though she was tempted to watch them for a few minutes longer, Mallory turned her attention to her cappuccino. While she enjoyed her friends’ playful dynamic, it was also
a painful reminder of how alone she truly was. The last time Lena had caught her watching, she had tried to set her up with a friend of hers, and while Mallory appreciated the thought, the last thing she needed or wanted was to fall into another doomed relationship.
She had her friends and her work, and that was more than enough.
Even if she sometimes found herself wondering if maybe, just maybe, with the right woman, she might be able to find…
She shook her head. Nothing good ever came from letting her mind wander into the realm of what-ifs. She had survived her first season as leader of the LSO well enough, and she was determined to try to actually enjoy the coming year. And to do that, she needed to pull her heart out of the clouds and focus on the tangible aspects of her life that brought her joy—like music. And her friends.
That was what all the self-help books she had read while touring had said, anyway.
She dragged the tip of her finger through the foam atop her coffee and wiped it off on the napkin Lena had left behind. Her cappuccino had cooled to the perfect temperature while she had been chatting with Lena and Dmitry. She was convinced that Lena made the best coffee in all of London, and she hummed contentedly under her breath as she set the mug down and reached for her croissant. The turtle croissant looked like heaven on a plate, and after two months of going without, she was quite looking forward to enjoying her favorite treat.
She practically swooned at her first bite, and smiled to herself as she chewed. This was, without a doubt, the absolute best way to start the day.
“Hey, it’s you,” a sweet southern drawl interrupted her internal reverie.
Mallory looked up at the woman that had spoken and frowned as she hurried to finish chewing. The petite brunette was beautiful—even though her leggings and baggy sweatshirt made her look like a university student that had only just rolled out of bed—and seemed vaguely familiar, though she had no idea where she might have met her before. “I’m sorry?”
“Right. Sorry,” the woman apologized. Her smile was kind, if a little hesitant, and Mallory tilted her head to the side as she waited for her to continue. “I saw you in here”—she waved her left hand toward Mallory’s table as she hefted the strap of her kit bag higher on her shoulder—“a few months ago, I guess. Anyway, you looked upset,” she continued, looking perfectly contrite, as if she somehow knew that Mallory wouldn’t appreciate being reminded of her very public moment of weakness.
“I did?” Mallory murmured, her brow furrowing as she tried to recall the interaction the woman was describing.
“Um…a little? You were watching a video or something on your phone?”
Ah. That. Mallory nodded as she remembered how upset she had been when she had first seen the video of Gwen’s symphony. She had been unforgivably short with the brunette who had, now that she was recalling the details of the interaction, been perfectly polite in inquiring about her well-being. “I’m so sorry about that. You caught me at a bad time, I’m afraid, and I…”
“No, you were fine,” the brunette insisted with a kind smile. “I just…kind of kept wondering if you were okay.” She shook her head as she played with the strap of her bag. “But then I didn’t see you all summer so I couldn’t ask you and, I mean, it’s not like I was even here a lot, because of work, but I still—”
The woman’s rambling was adorable, and Mallory couldn’t help but smile as she interrupted to explain, “I was out of the country for most of the summer. I only got back last week.”
“Oh.” The woman blushed and nodded. “Right. Of course. That makes perfect sense.”
The brunette was utterly charming in her awkward sincerity, and Mallory bit the inside of her cheek to keep from chuckling as she extended her hand. “Mallory Collingswood.”
And, oh, it was a good thing she was still sitting down because the way the woman’s face lit up as she shook her hand set her completely back on her heels. She could not remember the last time someone had smiled so openly at her like that. “Addison Leigh.”
Mallory spotted Lena approaching them with a pleased smile curling her lips, looking very much like the cat that had caught the proverbial canary, and motioned toward the empty table beside her own. “I believe Lena is bringing your drink now.”
And, okay, it wasn’t exactly an invitation to join her, but it would be an unnecessary hassle to move her things from the chair across from her when the tables were close enough that they could comfortably converse without raising their voices.
“Oh. I wouldn’t want to intrude…” Addison began.
Mallory chuckled as she refrained from pointing out that Addison had, in fact, already done just that. Though she was surprised to find, given how much she cherished these quiet moments before her day began in full, she didn’t mind it at all. “I don’t mind, honestly. And, considering Ms. Black here has forbidden me from working”—she shot Lena a playful glare that turned into a fond smile when Lena responded by sticking her tongue out at her—“I wouldn’t mind the company. That is,” she hastened to add, “assuming that’s something you would like as well, of course.”
“I would like that,” Addison murmured, ducking her head as a soft smile curled her lips. She glanced at Lena as she pulled the chair that was effectively next to Mallory’s from its table and shook her head at the way Lena grinned at her.
“You’re in early,” Lena observed as she set a takeaway cup and a breakfast sandwich in front of Addison.
“God, don’t remind me,” Addison groaned as she reached for the cup. “Her royal highness has summoned me to the studio before class today because I’m going to be in Kent tomorrow for an outreach thing and she has something she needs to talk to me about that can’t wait until this afternoon.”
“Any idea what she wants?”
“Nope. All I know is that I am to arrive ‘prepared to work,’” she enunciated in a clipped Cambridge accent as she waved her free hand in the air dramatically.
Lena laughed. “Sounds about right.”
“Right?” Addison sighed and shook her head.
Mallory looked between the two women. Their easy banter and seemingly abstract comments seemed to be perfectly understood by the other—much like herself and her colleagues at the LSO—and she realized that Addison must be a dancer at The Royal Ballet.
“Hopefully it’s just a few more hours,” Lena pointed out with a wry look.
Addison sighed and nodded as she rapped her knuckles on the table. “Yeah. Hopefully.”
Lena gave her shoulder a light squeeze and smiled at Mallory. “I’ll go bug my husband and let you two chat. Mal, remember what I said…”
“No work until I get to work,” Mallory intoned, holding her right hand up as if swearing an oath. Her gaze drifted toward Addison, truly seeing her for the first time. She was petite, yes, but there was an undercurrent of strength in her posture, even when relaxed. There was also an unmistakable aura of confidence about her that was utterly enchanting. Maybe it was because she was a dancer, used to using her body as an instrument for her craft under the scrupulous gaze of an audience, but whatever it was, it looked good on her.
“Good girl.” Lena winked at her and then, with one last smile, turned back toward the front of the shop where the line at the register had begun to reform.
“She’s a handful, isn’t she?” Addison mused, smiling fondly at Lena’s retreating form.
“She certainly is that,” Mallory agreed with a little laugh. She cleared her throat and looked away as she took a sip of her coffee. “How long have you been with The Royal Ballet?”
Addison smiled and leaned back in her chair. “How do you know I’m with The Royal Ballet?”
“Besides the fact that neither you nor Lena were speaking in complete phrases, and yet you understood each other perfectly…”
Addison laughed. “Point taken. This will be my fourth season with the company. How about you? Where do you play?” she asked, pointing at the violin case opposite Mallory.
&nbs
p; “Keen eye,” Mallory murmured. “This will be my second season with the London Symphony Orchestra.”
“Fancy,” Addison drawled. She grinned when Mallory laughed, and picked up her sandwich. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to be rude and eat while we talk because I don’t want this to get cold. I have a feeling that I’m going to need my calories this morning.”
“Go right on ahead.” Mallory waved her on and picked up her own croissant.
“What do you do at the LSO?” Addison asked before taking a bite of her breakfast sandwich.
“Some days, it feels like everything,” Mallory admitted. She smiled at the way Addison, cheeks puffed out as she chewed, arched a brow and nodded encouragingly for her to elaborate. “I’m the leader of the orchestra.” When Addison’s brow furrowed, she added, “You Americans call the position the concertmaster.” She smiled as Addison’s brow smoothed in understanding. “So, you see, I have many responsibilities beyond just showing up and playing.”
Addison swallowed and shook her head. “So that’s why Lena was telling you ‘no work before you get to work.’”
“Or it could have just been Lena being Lena. She does love to boss me around.”
“It’s not just you,” Addison shared, glancing toward the front counter where Lena was tending to a customer.
“Well, now I’m offended,” Mallory drawled, feigning hurt. “I thought I was special.”
Addison laughed and reached across the narrow gap separating them to give Mallory’s arm a light pat. “I’m sure you are incredibly special, Mallory Collingswood.”
Mallory was so unused to anyone who wasn’t Lena or Will touching her that her breath caught in her throat at the feeling of Addison’s fingers curling around her wrist. She looked away as she felt her cheeks begin to warm, and murmured, “That’s kind of you to say.”