Camilla takes her brother’s hand, against his silent objection, and guides him away from their father and I. Mr. Landry takes my hand in his and gently places his other respectfully on my hip.
His forehead is lined in a way that showcases years of worry, hard work, and late nights. But it’s the lines around his eyes and mouth that paint a different picture. They tell the story of love and laughter, of ballgames and Monopoly. They speak of tea parties and car washes and early morning breakfasts.
“I want you to know,” he says in a voice an octave lower than Graham’s, “that I never get involved in my children’s private lives.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything. I just let him move me along to the music.
“Graham has always been a peculiar child. When he was born, he didn’t cry. The nurses had to tickle his feet to force him to cry to dry his lungs.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh.” He smiles down at me. “He’s always been an old soul, one of those kids that seems to be wise beyond their years. He didn’t want to play ball with Lincoln or go chasing girls with Barrett. He wanted to go to the office with me. I remember one Christmas, he asked for a calculator,” he chuckles.
“In the last few weeks, I’ve seen such a change in him,” Mr. Landry continues. “I always wondered what would happen if he really fell in love. Would he pull away from the business? Would he channel some of the passion that drives him into something else? I see that some with Barrett. Now that he has Alison and Huxley, I don’t expect him to be in politics very long. Same for Lincoln. I think we can all see the changes Danielle has made in him.”
“Certainly,” I agree.
“My curiosity has been satiated when it comes to Graham. I now know what happens to Graham when he falls in love.”
“Mr. Landry,” I stammer, my anxiety beginning to soar. “I’m not sure what he’s told you, but I don’t think he’s in love with me.”
His chuckle is loud and hearty as he shakes his head. “Maybe not. I surely can’t speak for my son. But I can tell you that I know a thing or two about my boys, and Graham is well on his way, sweetheart.”
My cheeks flush and I look away. I’m not sure he’s right, but I can’t stop the little bud of hope that blossoms in my belly.
“Graham’s work over these past few weeks has only gotten better. It’s funny, in a way, to see him a bit strewn about. But it makes his mother and me happy to see him living outside of his office for once. And that, Mallory, is because of you.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I just want to ask that you give my boy some patience. Lord knows he’s probably in over his head,” he chuckles. “But if I know one of my sons, I know Graham. And I know Graham will come around.”
The music ends and a faster number replaces it. Graham is to my side in a second flat.
“Here you go,” his father says, taking my hand and placing it through his son’s elbow. He leans in and whispers something to Graham. I don’t know what he says, only that it makes Graham smile. They nod, a silent exchange of some unnamed emotion, and Mr. Landry disappears into the sea of people.
Graham looks at me, his eyes shimmering. “You ready to go?”
“Absolutely.”
Mallory
THE HOUSE IS DARK WHEN we enter. All the wine I consumed has made me sleepy and I lean against Graham as we enter the house. He takes my jacket off and grabs a blanket off the sofa before guiding me back outside onto the patio.
I doze off, warm from the alcohol and the fire Graham started in the fireplace. He awakens me, having changed into a pair of black sleep pants and a long-sleeved, black shirt.
“Hey, sleeping beauty,” he whispers, sitting down beside me. I struggle to open my eyes as I sit up. “Come here.”
He moves me so I’m leaning against him, tucked protectively under his arm. My hair splays across his shirt, my legs tucked up under the blanket.
Nothing is said and not a muscle is moved besides the rising and falling of our chests. It’s completely still outside. There are no barking dogs or police sirens. Just Graham and I and a crackling fire.
“If I could just stay here, like this, for the rest of my life, I would.” His statement wakes me up. I think I mishear him, but when I look up at his face, he’s watching me. “I love having you here.”
“I love being here,” I say, snuggling into him more. “I really just love being with you.”
I wait for the regret, but the wine must have dulled my reactions, because I feel none. I also don’t feel drunk, just buzzed, and I’m not sure if that means I’m safe to speak or I’m so out of it I need to play dead.
“What would it take,” he says, clearing his throat, “for you to give me a chance?”
“A chance like in a raffle?” I ask, trying to stop the roaring of the blood past my ears.
He laughs quietly. “No, Mallory. A chance as in maybe helping me trying to figure out how to love.”
Drunk, buzzed, or sober, I’m wide awake. I’m afraid to move because that might shatter this alternate reality I’ve woken up in.
“How to love yoga?” I offer.
Moving me so I lie across his lap, he sighs. “I’m blaming this on Lincoln.”
The confidence in Graham’s posture that I’ve never seen him without is gone. His features are stern, his face pulled tight. There’s a glimmer in his eyes, but I can’t tell if it’s from the flames of the fire or something . . . else.
“I have some issues,” he begins. “I know that. I can be exacting and difficult and a little overbearing at times.”
“A little?”
“A little,” he says, giving me a look. “I thought I was happy before you came into my life. Everything was in its place, everyone in their roles, and I liked it. It was comfortable and predictable. Then you walk in and take all that and toss it on the floor.”
He runs his fingers through my hair, brushing it away from my face. “It drove me crazy at first. I had an anxiety attack for the first week,” he laughs. “But then something changed.”
Sliding my hand so it touches his chest beneath his shirt, I try to encourage him to go on.
“I guess it was partly Lincoln and a speech he and Barrett gave me at the Farm that I can keep my crutches or keep you. They told me I’d know when I’d fallen in love because I couldn’t replace her. I wouldn’t want to.”
He shifts me on his lap so I’m sitting up more. “Imagining you not coming in to work every day makes me not want to go either, and that job is all I’ve ever wanted. Then seeing you with my family . . . I get what my brothers were saying, Mallory.”
“Oh, Graham,” I say, feeling his heartbeat quicken under my hand.
“I’ve never been in love before. I’m not sure how it works. If we get to that point, and I mess it all up . . .”
“You’ve been in love before.” The words sting as I reference Vanessa, the one woman I would risk getting arrested to punch in the face.
“I haven’t,” he says, looking me in the eye. “I might have thought that at one time, but I’m one hundred percent sure that wasn’t love. A young infatuation, maybe. But love? No.”