“I nearly flunked out the next semester. I couldn’t find her. I thought she was dead or something. It was the worst period of my entire life. My parents thought the world had fallen apart. They were wanting me to go to therapy, threatening to pull me out of school altogether. I just couldn’t function. I was a complete puss.”
“What were you supposed to feel? Look what she did to you!” I say, hating this woman for putting this look on his face. “That shit is hard, Graham. Especially when you’re going through it the first time and it’s that dramatic.”
“She nearly ruined my life. That’s just putting it mildly. She fucked up my school situation, my relationships with my family. Everything was ripped out from under me in a few months’ time while she vanished, not bothering to give me the courtesy of letting me know she was alive until a few months later with a letter and no return address.”
He smiles sadly. “I would rather be alone than be in that situation again.” He reaches across the sofa and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I look at you and think what a good girl you are. When I’m with you, I just want to stay there forever. When I’m not with you, I want to be.”
Tears tickle my eyes because I know there’s more coming. The epic life-ruiner, “but,” that is on the tip of his tongue.
“But I can’t be, Mallory.” He lifts my chin so I have to look at him. His face is so handsome, so tender, that I nearly can’t breathe. “Since then, I’ve made a plan on how to deal with things before they creep up. I have contingencies for contingencies so I’m not in a place to make a decision based off emotions.” He smiles softly. “I don’t know how to manage whatever this is between us. There’s no blueprint for this, and every experience I have with it tells me to end it now. But I can’t,” he whispers.
Words are lost to me as I lose myself in his eyes. There’s so much to the depths—pain, sadness, hope. My heart is torn in my chest because I don’t know what to do.
The confusion over how to respond, what words to piece together, leaves me speechless.
He tugs at his hair, his head buried in his hands. “I hate feeling this way.”
“Don’t,” I say, grabbing his wrist. “You were honest with me. You just told me something you didn’t have to and something that was obviously not easy to say.”
“I’ve never talked about it out loud like that.” He wraps my hand in his and brings it to his lips. He doesn’t kiss it, but just holds it there. “But I wanted you to know what you were dealing with.”
“Dealing with?” I say, scooting closer to him. “You’re a man that’s had his heart broken. I’ve had mine broken too. I get it. It hurts.”
He drops my hand and smiles more beautifully than I’ve ever seen from him before. “I hope you find love someday. I hope you find some guy that thinks of you the way I do.” His grin falters. “I hope he can give you what you need back.”
I look away, unable to see the look on his face and deal with the emotions swirling on mine. Just knowing that he thinks of me the way I think of him, yet can’t, won’t, go forward, breaks my already shattered heart.
“I think I should go home now,” I say, needing space.
“I’ll get your jacket.” He takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. As I turn to walk away, he hauls me in his arms and holds me close. His heart strums steadily in his chest, the smell of his cologne dancing over my senses. When he pulls back, I know things won’t quite be the same between us. “You ready?”
“Let’s go.”
Mallory
THE LEMON SLICE DROPS INTO the tea, creating a ripple on the surface. I wonder how far down the undulation goes. If it goes as deep as what I feel from tonight.
“Come in,” I shout when I hear the knock at the door. I wait for Joy’s face to come around the corner, and when it does, I feel a little relief.
“I came with brownies,” she says. A white box from the grocery store is plopped on the coffee table. “What happened to you? You look like shit.”
“Gee, thanks,” I sigh. “I’m fine.”
Her brows raise. “I don’t think that’s true.”
I give her a look of warning as I take a hesitant sip of my tea. I didn’t mean to alert her to my demise when she called as soon as I walked in the door. I guess it was somewhat obvious.
“Want to tell me what’s wrong?” she asks.
“No.”
“Mallory . . .”
I take a deep breath. “Graham and I had dinner tonight.”
She squeals, curling up in the secondhand chair next to the sofa. If she’s concerned about what the material might do to her name-brand shirt, she doesn’t mention it. For once.
“Then we ran back to his house to grab some files. We fucked. Then he basically told me, as carefully and sweetly as possible, that we would never be anything.”
“Okay then,” she gulps, slowly uncrossing her legs. “Um, that doesn’t sound sweet. ‘Thank you for fucking me. Now go home?’”
“No, not like that.” I recount more closely the events of the evening. “You know, I didn’t really think there would be anything between us. I mean, I didn’t set out for that to happen. He was just a walking check-off list of all the things I’d want in a man and he wanted me . . . on his desk, in his office, in front of his neighbor.”
She fans herself. “I’m so turned on by that.”
“Stop,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t even know why I’m so . . . saddened by his admission. I had no reason to think anything else.”
“But it’s natural that you hoped, Mal. Or at least entertained the idea. Wouldn’t anyone? He’s leading you on, screwing you—”
“He really didn’t lead me on,” I admit. “He never said anything other than an occasional direction to remove my clothes, which I so happily did.” I sigh, taking another sip.
She taps her pink, perfectly manicured finger against her lips. I hate the way she looks at me, like I’m some kind of project or a lesser woman because I’m struggling in every department of my life.
“You know what? Forget it,” I tell her. “I’ll figure it out.”
“Nope. Not that easy,” she says. “You have to decide what’s best for you.”
“Yeah. But I don’t know what’s best for me.”
She catches my gaze. “Yes, you do.”
My head falls back, my eyes shut. She’s right and I hate it. I do know what’s best for me. That’s the little niggle in my gut, the reminder to listen to logic and not my heart and certainly not my vagina.
“Put your two weeks in,” she suggests softly. “File it with Human Resources and not him so he can’t just . . .”
“Just do what he does and veto what he doesn’t like?” I offer.
“Yes. That. File your notice and come work with me. I have some pull, you know,” she winks. “Or go to LA with Sienna. Mal, you’re single. Young. Gorgeous. There’s no reason you have to stay here. Do something that your soul tells you to.”
I laugh. “Whoa, wait. When did you get deep?”
“What?” she blushes.
“Do something your soul tells you to? Really, Joy?”
“It was on a card at the pharmacy,” she shrugs. “I liked it.”