Ready or Not (31 page)

And then it was dark.

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.”

She couldn’t do that. She just couldn’t, because if her eyes met Sam’s, all bets would be off.

“Mallory,” Samantha said quietly, a gentle hand on her shoulder. That did it. She glanced up at Sam and the waterworks began. That’s just the way it was. She couldn’t lie in the face of her best friends. They had a way of disarming her, and it was pointless to fight it.

“Hey, hey,” Sam said in a soothing voice and pulled up a chair. She wrapped her arms around Mallory, who in the midst of the embrace let go entirely and sobbed into Samantha’s shoulder. The tears flowed freely and Mallory struggled for air. Sam released her and with her thumbs brushed the tears from Mallory’s face. “I’ve got you, you know that?”

Mallory nodded, because she did know. She could count on Sam and she found comfort in that.

“Water. You need water.” Moments later, and Sam presented her with a glass and an expectant look. “It’s time for you to tell all.”

Deep breath.

She recounted to Samantha the events of the day prior, backtracking to the anniversary party for reference, seguing into the lunch with her father, and ending with the argument and lack of response from Hope. When she was finished with all of it, Sam looked back at her wide-eyed and sympathetic. “Oh, Mal. Why didn’t you say something right away?”

“What was I going to say?” She shrugged. “My parents haven’t been in love for years and have instead participated in illicit affairs? My girlfriend wants me to be part of her life
most of the time
, but not all?”

“Actually, yes,” Sam said, gesturing emphatically. “That’s exactly what you say, because that’s what you’re having to sort through and you’ve been doing it on your own, which is too hard. Trust me, I’ve been there. And when I was, you were there for me.”

Mallory nodded. “It
has
been hard. But maybe I just need to push through the hard, ya know? Because love, I’m finding, is not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“So that’s it then?” Sam asked, clearly onto something.

“That’s what?”

“You’re in love with Hope.”

“I didn’t say that. But…maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Fine. I am,” Mallory said in frustration. “But that doesn’t magically make everything tie together in a nice, neat little bow. The world is full of complications.”

Sam nodded, taking all of this in. “It sounds to me like you’ve hit a rough patch with Hope. And then to top it off, this thing with your parents has shaken your confidence in the whole concept of love, which to be honest, you were already gun-shy of to begin with.”

“Yeah, I guess there’s some truth in that.”

“No one said love was a picnic. I mean, it can be,” Sam said, getting all dreamy-eyed. “But sometimes you want to shake the other person, because laundry has a certain day, you know? And one should honor that.” She made a toss-away gesture. “Bottom line. It’s a lot of work, but it’s worth it, Mallory. If you love this woman, don’t give up.”

Mallory turned back to her computer. “I don’t know. I just…I can’t right now.” She held up her phone to reference Hope’s lack of response to her message. “And apparently she can’t either.”

Samantha nodded in defeat. “Give yourself some time but know that I’m here. We all are.”

“Thanks, Sam. I’ll get through it.” She depended on the strength of those words but wasn’t quite sure she believed them. It had been only twenty-four hours, and already it felt like an overwhelming emptiness was growing within her at the idea of moving forward without Hope. She brushed the thought aside because she was a strong, capable woman who’d accomplished a lot in her life. She could and would move past this.

Life was better when things were simpler. Matters of the heart were best left alone.

Three days later, and Mallory only felt worse. Curled into her couch in her pajamas with a cup of tea, she tried to reconcile this new version of herself that she scarcely recognized. She had no appetite, no motivation, and distinct lack of focus. Plan “Work Yourself to Death” seemed to have failed dramatically. As she channel-surfed, settling decidedly on
Dateline
, she heard a knock at her door. She padded her way to the door and begrudgingly slid it open to find her three friends clad in pajamas and carrying an assortment of items. She spotted wine, ice cream, candy bars, and cookies. “Did you guys rob a convenience store?” she asked.

“We’re calling an MC,” Hunter said. “Let us in.”

Mallory turned her head and passed them a sideways glance. “We have drop-in MCs now? Since when? Is that a thing?”

Brooklyn pushed past her into the apartment. “It’s a thing since we decided you wouldn’t come otherwise.”

“We’re planners,” Samantha added with a grin. And like a team of little elves, the three of them worked together in her kitchen on a chocolate spread she had to admit looked kinda awesome.

“You brought the chocolate-dipped potato chips?” she asked with an interested eyebrow as Samantha whisked the tray past her and placed it on the coffee table.

“I think they’re a new staple,” Brooklyn said, snagging one and crunching into it. “I’m a little in love with them. Brooklyn’s babies, I call them. BBs.”

Her friends settled around her on the floor, and Hunter handed Mallory a glass of wine. “Why does this feel more like an intervention than an MC?” Mallory asked, glancing around at each of her friends, who regarded her solemnly.

“Psshh,” Hunter said. “I would never distribute alcohol at an intervention.”

“Good point,” Mallory said, nodding. “Still feels a little ambushy, just so you know.”

Sam considered this. “So we should work on subtlety then?”

Mallory held her thumb and finger very close together.

“Got it. Now onto the reason for the MC.”

“Right. That,” Mallory said, not really into the whole concept tonight. Her goal was to get through this thing quickly.

“Brooklyn?” Sam prompted.

“On it.” Brooklyn turned in seriousness to Mallory. “You’re not yourself. And I don’t even mean the new awesome version of you we’ve had the last couple of months. But you’re not even the less-happy Mallory from before, and I, for one, can’t watch it anymore.”

Samantha met Mallory’s gaze and lowered her voice. “I hope it’s okay, but I told them about your parents.”

Mallory shrugged. It’s not like they weren’t going to find out eventually anyway. The whole world would know. New York society would be talking about it for a good couple of weeks before moving on to better fodder. “Part of life, I guess. People divorce all the time.”

“Yeah, but not your people,” Hunter said. “It’s different when it’s you. We’ve had some family hiccups of our own and can identify to a certain extent. My dad’s kind of an asshole. He’s working on it, I guess, but he’ll probably always be one part asshole.”

Brooklyn raised her hand. “My parents gave me away.”

“And while mine seem to be happily married,” Sam told Mallory, “my father is wildly addicted to
Monday Night Football
. So there’s that.”

Mallory pointed at Sam and looked to the others for a verdict. “That one doesn’t count, right? Tell me she doesn’t get credit for that.”

Hunter and Brooklyn nodded. “Yeah, Sam,” Brooklyn said. “Not really helping with tales from the Brady Bunch. You just sit quietly for this part and send encouragement. We got this.”

“I can do that,” Samantha said and offered a thumbs-up sign.

Mallory turned to her friends and tried to explain. “My parents have always been wrapped up in the fast-paced world of New York society. I didn’t much get it, but that’s fine. It was their thing. But they were in love, you know, and that was everything to me. It carried weight and, in a way, helped form who I am. And now all of that is gone, replaced with the image of my dad and his half-dressed secretary. Disappointing is all. It’ll take some revamping.”

Hunter winced. “I’m so sorry that happened.”

Mallory shrugged. “Well, at least we’re all playing with the same cards now.”

“I wish you’d called us that night,” Samantha said. “We’d have been there for you.”

Mallory thought back on who
had
been there for her. The way Hope had pulled her in tight as if she were the most precious thing in the universe. She’d felt protected, cherished even. It had been exactly what she’d needed in that moment. She offered her friends a watery smile. “I was with Hope. She was great.”

“Which leads us back to the reason for the MC,” Brooklyn said. “You need to talk to Hope. Don’t let this parents thing mess with your head.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think she wants to talk to me. Plus, I don’t think I’m cut out for this kind of thing. I thought maybe I was, but nope. Not so much. I’m good on my own, you guys. I work better that way. There’s a lack of stability when your heart is on the line that I don’t have the stomach for. Hope is the kind of girl who could do real damage. She matters that much.”

Hunter shook her head at Mallory, and her eyes flashed in a way Mallory didn’t often witness. “This is bullshit and you know it. You’re stronger than this, Mal. Since when do you slink away from something you desperately want? And you know you want Hope, so knock it off.”

The comments stunned her to a certain extent, but Hunter was right. This kind of surrender
was
unlike her, and she hated knowing she’d given up. But still…she also didn’t know if she had any fight left in her. “What am I supposed to do, Hunter? Head to the bar and force her to talk to me?” She had tears on her cheeks now, uncharacteristic tears, but it wasn’t like she could hold them back any longer.

“Yeah,” Hunter said, even more riled now. “That’s exactly what you need to do. When a prospective client doesn’t take your call, you don’t just give up. You try to contact them another way, right? I’ve seen it time and time again.”

Brooklyn placed a cautionary hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Hunter, stop. She’s crying.”

“I’m fine,” Mallory said through her tears, but she wasn’t. She sobbed and struggled for air, understanding that she wasn’t fine at all. It felt like the world was falling in on her and she had no idea how to compensate.

“No, I’m not gonna stop,” Hunter said to Brooklyn. “Because crying is good. She needs to deal with everything once and for all and stop pretending like it’s all okay.” Hunter moved to Mallory and wrapped her arm around her. “We love you, Mal, and we’ll be here for you every step of the way, but I won’t let you roll over and accept everything that happens to you.”

Sam nodded. “You deserve to be happy, Mal, and should put every bit as much into yourself and your own life as you do your business.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” she managed, “when there’s so much more at stake.” She turned the words over in her mind as images of her and Hope kissing on the beach, eating lobster rolls on the pier, watching the sea lions at the zoo, and making love in her apartment drifted past. God, they’d been good together. A sob escaped her throat, and Samantha squeezed her hand.

“That’s how you know it’s worth fighting for,” Sam whispered and handed her a tissue. “If it isn’t capable of ripping your heart out, it isn’t love.”

But it was. It was totally and completely, one hundred percent love, and she’d never experienced that before, so of course this was hard. Why wouldn’t it be? She took the tissue and dried her tears. Deep-breath time.

Because as scary as this was, she wasn’t done.

Mallory wanted more memories with Hope.

And damn it, she
liked
that Hope was different from her. It wasn’t what she’d planned for or imagined for herself, but it was what had her excited for each new day.

“I do deserve to be happy,” she said finally. She was with the hot bartender, one she happened to be madly in love with. She swallowed against the word, as it still terrified the hell out of her. “So what do I do?”

“The dark-blue top,” Brooklyn said matter-of-factly.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked.

Brooklyn looked at her like it was the most obvious thing on the planet. “You need to wear the dark-blue top when you head down to the bar. It’s classy and sexy and shows a little cleavage. You always get looks when you wear it.”

“I do?” Mallory asked.

“Big-time,” Hunter said. “Listen to Brooks. Wear the top.”

“And the black, slender jeans and black heels. You rock in heels,” Brooklyn said.

“Totally true,” Sam said. “You have killer legs. I mean I’d
kill
to have them, so they’re killer.”