Talking to her these past few days through the dating app had been the best time I’d had with a woman in a long time. Knowing that Mallory was Tasha should have me running the other way, but it was giving me ideas instead. Maybe Mallory would be willing to give “Coby” a second chance. That way I’d be able to get her to talk to me. Daniel’s words warning me to stay away from her were the only thing that gave me pause, but it wasn’t enough to stop me from reaching out to Mallory again as Coby.
Mallory laughed at something on her phone. That sound took me back to our childhood when we’d spend hours on end hanging out with each other. A smile curled her lips as she responded to something on her phone. Even though it wasn’t directed at me, I liked seeing it. It had been years since she’d directed one at me, and I was to blame for that.
We were close friends growing up across the street from each other. To the point where I used to read everything she wrote and critiqued it like I knew what the hell I was talking about. I even drafted my own stories with her help and guidance. We took writing courses online that our moms signed us up for. I was part of a liberal arts club at our school when we were in elementary and went to an artsy camp with her for a couple of summers as well. I’d been willing to do that because it was something she liked. We’d always been willing to do what the other liked, and that worked for us…until it didn’t. I was the one to ruin what we had by start taking more than I was giving. She had no reason to forgive me. I gave up on our friendship fifteen years ago.
But I found her fascinating, and I felt different when I was in her presence. I’d felt at ease when we chatted online, and I didn’t want to lose that. It didn’t make sense for me to pursue any kind of relationship with Mallory, but that was what I was going to do. I could soften her stance about me in person while learning more about her online. If I could get her to forgive me—I mean, forgive “Coby”—for standing her up.
Stacey came back, taking her seat again and looking between the two of us. “What did I miss?”
“Not a damn thing,” Mallory quipped.
I grinned as I took a sip of my apple juice. I found it interesting that Stacey and Mallory were so close now. In high school, they never talked, and I knew they weren’t friends then.
“You two just sat here saying nothing?” Stacey pushed.
“For the most part,” I said, as Mallory replied—with a twinge of annoyance in her voice, “Yeah.”
“Ohh-kay,” Stacey said, stretching the word out. “You ready, babe?”
“Yep, but I think we should get some real food.”
“I’m not cooking, so where are we going to get this real food?”
“I didn’t ask you to cook, Stace. But I already know I’ll be hungry in an hour if this is the only thing we eat. You were kind of stingy with my ‘cheer me up’ treats.”
Stacey glared at her. “I told your ass to get whatever the hell you wanted. Stop showing out in front of company.”
“We’re not at home so he’s not company, and you know I’m going to get your ass back for earlier,” Mallory shot back.
“You totally deserved that,” Stacey said. “We’re leaving, Zeke. It was nice to see you again, and I hope this isn’t a rare occurrence.”
“I’m sure it won’t be,” I said, smiling and holding back a laugh.
“I wish I could say the same, but that’d be lying and I’m horrible at it,” Mallory said as she stood up.
“That was a little rude, Rory.”
“Probably. But do I give a damn? No.”
She gathered her things and left us alone at the table.
“She’s not very good at forgiveness,” Stacey told me with a shrug.
She followed her friend. I watched them leave out the front entrance before I stood to leave as well. I had only come in because I saw Mallory and Stacey sitting inside.
“Where have you been?” Malik asked when I walked into the kitchen where he was making himself something to eat.
“At the Busy Bean.”
“Why? You hate coffee—which is unnatural, by the way.”
“So you’ve told me a hundred thousand times before,” I said. “I was with Mallory and Stacey.”
“Stacey Harris?”
“Yeah. She knew who you were too.”
“She should since she works for me and has for a few years. Mallory’s her best friend and roommate. I’ve met her a few times. Do you know them?”
“I went to school with them in Burlington,” I told him.
“Small world,” he said.
Malik moved to Vermont with his parents during our senior year in high school and they settled in Colebury. He went to the university in Burlington, but I guess he never ran into Stacey and Mallory while there.
“I grew up with Rory. She lived across the street.”
“You mean that skinny girl with big curls and personality who you used to hang out with all the time?” he asked, glancing over at me.
“That was Mallory Barrett. Though I always called her Rory.”
“Sometimes Stace does too, but Mallory looks a lot different these days,” Malik commented.
He was right about that. She now had curves I wanted to explore. Her hair was still curly and big. Her smooth, honey-brown skin was flawless, and her dark eyes were filled with so many things that I wished I could figure out. Her plump, full lips made me want to press mine to hers, especially when she was being rude to me. As I said, she was fascinating, but she was also sexy as hell and so damn beautiful.
“So,” Malik said, bringing my attention back to him. “Did Stacey mention me?”
Well, then. “She did. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
“Really? Just wondering? You’re not going to tell me what’s going on between the two of you?”
“Nothing right now. She works at my company and she’s damn good at it. Without her, my company wouldn’t be doing as well as it is,” he said. “I mean, she’s gorgeous with a big heart and smile, but we’re just coworkers.”
“You like her,” I teased.
He shrugged, not confirming or denying my words. “Do you want me to make you a hamburger?”
“Hell yeah,” I told him. “Those smell like they need to be in my belly.”
Malik chuckled and started flattening some hamburger meat for me. I was going to have to do better with my diet, but I wasn’t turning down delicious homemade burgers and fries.
After dinner, we headed down to Malik’s basement where he kept his pool table, air hockey table, and vintage Pac-Man gaming machine. It was a true man cave with a leather reclining couch and chairs, an 80-inch TV with a gaming console hooked up to it, and a bar that he kept stocked. We opted to play a few rounds of Madden football on his X-Box.
Malik was whooping my ass at the game since my mind kept going to Mallory and the ways I could get her to warm up to me. I knew the first step was getting her to forgive Coby, but I also had to get her to talk to me in person. It was going to take work and time. I had to figure out the best angle to get what I wanted: Mallory as a friend again and possibly more.
7
Mallory
I touched the screen of my e-reader to turn the page. I was halfway through it when my phone buzzed on the couch beside me. I picked it up, smiling when I saw who I had a text from.
Charli: Hey! What’re you up to?
Me: Nothing much. Just reading this new book by a local author—Holden St. James—to avoid writing.
Charli was an author friend who understood my struggle on a level my family and Stacey couldn’t. I could bounce ideas off her or just vent about my frustrations.
Charli: I heard about him publishing a book and it’s on my TBR. Sounds like you’re still struggling with that story.
Me: It’s been the worst. I can’t gain any traction with it, and it’s so frustrating.
Charli: Is there anything I can do to help?
Me: Write it for me? Just kidding. I’m going to have to figure this out
soon.
Charli: I’m sure you will. And let me know how I can help. I’m always here to read what you’ve written and provide feedback or discuss plot ideas.
Mallory: Thanks, and I’ll be taking you up on that.
Charli: I have to go but tell Stace I said hi and hang in there, Ror.
I told her I would and dropped my phone back down beside me. My thoughts went back to my current struggles with Imagine Us. Today had been just as frustrating as every other day when it came to this story. I’d picked up Holden St. James’ book because I’d gotten tired of staring at a blank screen with that mocking flashing cursor. It was so frustrating how you could have a burst of inspiration and write three chapters and then just a couple of days later there’s nothing. No words to type. No scene bugging you to write. I was excited when I finally started chapter one over the weekend and ended up writing three total chapters. I’d emailed them to Valerie. She’d gotten back to me within hours giving me critique but also told me that the chapters were amazing, and she couldn’t wait to read more. I normally took Sundays off to relax and do whatever, so I planned to get started early Monday morning to write at least two more chapters. It was now Wednesday, and I still only had three chapters.
Valerie had given me a deadline to send her the next two chapters by Friday night. Sitting at my computer didn’t magically make words appear, much to my disappointment, so I was going to have to figure something out. I’d decided to come to my parents’ house to see if a change of scenery would help. So far it hasn’t.
A banner at the top of my screen caught my attention. It was a notification from that dating app telling me I had a new message. I should have deleted Blush after Coby stood me up, but every time I went to do so, something stopped me. It wasn’t undying love or obsession, but I wanted to hear from Coby. We’d connected on a level I hadn’t experienced with anyone in years. With butterflies in my stomach, I switched over to the dating app.
Coby: I’m sorry about not showing up last week. I know I may be out of line for asking this, but I would like another chance.
I read the message three times. I appreciated the fact he hadn’t added some lame excuse for why he did what he did and that he realized that he fucked up. I didn’t know if that warranted giving him a second chance. I’d been hurt a few times in my life by friends, family, and exes, and that made it harder for me to trust and give second chances. I was wary when someone did something to me. I didn’t want to be so rigid that I was a “one strike and you’re out” kind of person, but I also didn’t want to put my heart or feelings on the line.
“I wasn’t expecting you today, honey,” Mom said, pulling my attention from my phone. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I thought shaking things up may help the words flow,” I told her.
“And has it?”
I waved my phone at her. “I’ve been alternating between reading and wasting time on this since I got here a couple of hours ago.”
“A couple of hours, Ror? You could’ve texted to let me know you were here. I would have stopped to get you something to eat.”
I couldn’t help but smile. I was twenty-eight and my mom still saw me as her little girl. Being the only child didn’t help either. I didn’t resent her for it or anything, but I did have to gently remind her I was an adult, and she didn’t have to take care of me.
“I’m fine, Mom. Promise,” I said. “And don’t we have plans to go to Adam’s for dinner?”
I’d planned to drive to Burlington and meet them at my cousin Adam’s house. We were a close family and did dinner at one of our houses at least twice a month, sometimes every week. I had an uncle and aunt who lived here, and they had two children, Adam and Jocelyn. Adam was married with four children and Jocelyn was single like me.
“That’s true, but I would have happily gotten you something anyway,” she replied, walking into the living room. “So, is there anything I can help with?”
She sat on the couch, and I lifted my legs to give her room before resting them on her lap.
“You could write this whole book for me,” I joked.
“Still struggling? Why don’t we talk through it? What makes it so hard to write this book versus the others you’ve written?”
“Passion,” I said simply.
“Then why are you writing this story?”
“I’ve avoided it for years. Every time I start it and end up stalled, I move onto something else. I thought I’d found a fix to the chemistry issue after talking to Valerie, but nothing feels right when it comes to this book or this couple.”
“So, you should probably scrap this idea for good now? I think after publishing the last book in a series, your next would be something you’re excited about. A story that calls to you. If this one isn’t doing that, then that’s telling you something.”
I sighed. She had a point, but something in my gut was telling me this story was the one. The one that would finally advance my career. I didn’t want to abandon it.
“But, if you want to keep drafting this book, then I support you one thousand percent. And I’m here to bounce ideas off as well as read what you’ve written so far,” she added.
I grinned at her and moved to wrap my arms around her. My mom—and all my immediate family—were supportive of my writing career. They were as engrossed in all things publishing and writing as I was, so they could be involved too. They were my biggest supporters and bought all my books while shouting about them all over social media to anyone who would listen.
We heard the door leading from the garage open, and my dad walked into the kitchen.
“Has our only child come to visit us?” he asked.
“Yep! I thought you and Mom probably missed seeing my face.”
Dad scoffed as he walked across the kitchen to the living room, which was divided by the couch Mom and I was sitting on. I tilted my head back and he dropped a kiss on my forehead. He greeted Mom as well.
“We see your face plenty,” Dad said. “I need to change and then we can leave. Piper made it clear we’re expected at seven.”
“Why are you looking at me, Dad?”
“Because even with twenty notifications and fifteen alarms, you somehow end up late.”
“Or lost with GPS telling her step by step how to get somewhere,” Mom added.
“And you two are supposed to be my parents,” I said.
“We are, and we like to keep you humble,” Mom quipped. “You’re so awesome, and we tell you that all the time, so we want to remind you of the few flaws you have.”
“Why do I even come over here?” I grumbled, but I was smiling.
Dad headed upstairs while Mom stayed behind for a moment.
“I’m glad you and Adam finally made up,” she said.
It’s only been a year since we reconciled after going almost ten years without talking or seeing each other. It was hard for our moms who are sisters.
“I am too,” I told her. “Now, I can go to family dinners.”
She agreed and kissed the top of my head. She went upstairs to change out of her work clothes. I picked my phone back up, but my mind was on Adam. Nine years was a long time to go without talking to someone I used to talk to daily. I’d been close to both of my cousins when we were growing up. I was close with both of my cousins who lived in Vermont when we were growing up. We were more like siblings, or so I thought.
I was eighteen and still in high school. Up until that point, I could say anything to my cousins. We were brutally honest with each other, so I thought it was okay for me to tell Adam that I suspected his wife was cheating and that his child wasn’t his biological son. I’d seen his now ex-wife out with different men. All the time. I learned that she’d already told Adam about them and claimed they were just friends. I told him I didn’t trust or like her and that he should probably get a DNA test on their son to make sure he was his. He kicked me out of his place, and that was the last time we spoke. I was eighteen and he was twenty at
the time. I guess I didn’t realize how people could act when they were in love.
I turned out to be right about his ex-wife. I learned from my parents they divorced when AD—Adam’s son—was two years old. He also found out that his son wasn’t his biological child, but that didn’t stop him from fighting for custody. His ex didn’t put up much of a fight, and he adopted AD. But he never reached out to me, and I didn’t reach out to him either. I got to see AD sporadically when my aunt had him and knew Adam would be gone for a while. I’d met Adam’s other two sons as well, and I was grateful, despite me not being around, that they knew who I was.
It took a tragic accident that ended our cousin’s life for us to finally put the past aside. Sasha was only twenty-two when a car spun into her lane, and she was killed at the scene. When that happened, both Adam and I truly realized how short life was. I didn’t want to have the regret of not reconciling with Adam and then learning something had happened to him, and I knew he felt the same.
“Are you riding with us, pumpkin?” Dad asked, making me look up at him.
“Yeah,” I answered. “And I’m probably staying the night too.”
I hopped off the couch, stuffing my phone in the back pocket of my jeans. I closed my laptop and set it on the coffee table.
“That’s fine with us, Ror. Now, let’s go,” Mom said.
Doubletalk (The Busy Bean) Page 4