by Flynn, Avery
Fuck.
Meanwhile, Nick’s mom looks at his dad and they are having one of those married-for-a-long-time silent conversations that encompass everything and nothing in a matter of seconds. In that moment, I realize that I want that, and even more importantly, I want that with Nick. Not because I can’t live without a man, but because I need to live with him. I need to be loved by him.
The truth of that has me shifting on the velvet seat, unsure of what in the hell I’m supposed to do now.
“One of these days, John,” Victoria says, twining the fingers of her free hand through his, “I’ll get you to join in on the fun.”
“After forty years into this life with you? It’s possible, I guess.” He shrugs and shakes his head. “I know how you love a challenge.”
Victoria scoffs. “Your life would be boring without me. You’d still be driving a Mercedes instead of the GTO.”
“That’s true.” He leans over and kisses her cheek. “I’d have a boring life if it weren’t for my very non-boring wife.”
It’s adorable and awful at the same time because this is the life I always wanted—the one I still want. The teasing. The fun. The in-it-togetherness, weird quirks and all.
And the thing is, I don’t just want that life. I want it with Nick because, despite how much I fought it, I’ve fallen for Mr. Always There and I can’t imagine him not being a part of my life. All I have to do to make that want a reality is to have the guts to fight for it.
Old me would have never. But the new Mallory Martin—done with being Bach—faced down Karl and won. I’ve lived through finding a treasure chest of my beloved aunt’s dildos. I’ve started a new life for myself that teenage me wouldn’t be ashamed of. I’m no longer a woman who hides in law office bathrooms. I can do this.
Nick scoots closer on the love seat and lowers his voice to a whisper. “Sorry about my parents.”
“They’re amazing.” It’s true. I’ve never seen two people more comfortable about being themselves with each other. “Nick, we need to talk.” Adrenaline surges through my veins because now that I know what I want, how I want my life to be, I want it to start now. “Can we go somewhere?”
He nods. “Sure, let’s—”
Before we can make any excuses to his parents and find somewhere to talk, though, the thick oak door to the study opens and a woman in a soft gray dress walks in. “Dinner is ready.”
“Wonderful,” Victoria says as she stands. “Shall we?”
“Mom, you know you could have just asked me to dinner instead of staging a big fight with your neighborhood nemesis.”
“True,” she says with an impish grin. “But where is the fun in that?”
Nick turns to his dad.
John shrugs as he starts toward the study door, arm in arm with his wife. “She’s your mother, son. She’s never going to do the expected.”
Nick looks over at me, a chagrined look on his face that hits me somewhere between oh-my-God-he’s-amazing and how-could-I-have-missed-this-all-along. “Sounds like someone else I know.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
The Holloway dining room is huge but still manages to feel cozy. It’s all soothing creams and light blues with neutral wood—everything illuminated by the sun coming in from the huge south-facing windows. We sit down at an oval table set for four. Victoria sits to my left and Nick to my right with John straight across, obviously more interested in the chicken cordon bleu than whatever intel into her son’s life Victoria is about to go mining for.
I, on the other hand, am a jumble of anticipation and nerves.
“I know you two have been sparring or flirting or hanging out, whatever it is that they call casual sex that really isn’t these days,” Victoria says as she pours a balsamic vinaigrette over her salad. “But what I really want is to hear it all from your perspective, Mallory. Nick gives very few satisfactory details.”
“Mo-om,” Nick groans and sinks back against his chair.
“It’s true.” Victoria passes the crystal decanter of vinaigrette to John. “You’re just like your father. It feels like reeling in a shark with a toy fishing pole to get either of you to give up the goods.” She takes a sip of wine and turns her attention back to me. “So, tell me everything.”
Everything? That’s a lot to unpack, but I’m not about to turn down the opening she’s given me.
I take a sip of my water and my hand doesn’t even shake. “Well, it all started when he wouldn’t stop harping on me to mow my grass so I would stop violating our HOA rules.”
“Nicolas!” Victoria exclaims. “How could you have acted like a Maude?”
“No, he was right,” I say. “I’d just inherited my aunt Maggie’s house and it was in a state. Still, it was heaven compared to living with my parents while I went through a messy—and only got messier—divorce. Nick helped set up a meeting with his partner, Gina, and while I was at the office, I just sort of happened to fall into the job of being the firm’s temporary office manager.”
“There was no ‘happened to fall into it,’” Nick says. “You stepped up, negotiated like a hostage-taker, and saved us from chaos. Once you’d been there an hour, we knew there was no way we could ever let you.”
“So you liked her office-management skills, is that right, Nick?” Victoria asks, and the double entendre she’s throwing down is big enough to win a prizefight.
Nick groans but says nothing else.
Breaking into the awkward silence that follows, I continue. “Between HOA issues, helping clean my aunt’s house, my divorce, and Nick’s office needing a new manager—well, that about sums up how we met.” I take a bite of chicken that probably tastes epic, if my stomach weren’t in knots. “This chicken is delicious.”
“Oh yes,” John says as he slices off another bite. “This is one of our chef’s specialties. Nick’s favorite, too.”
“So is this nasty divorce behind you yet, my dear?” From a different woman, the question would have come across as bitchy. But Victoria’s eyes are filled with nothing but concern for me.
I’m about to tell her the truth, that I am very much still in the middle of that shitstorm, but Nick replies first. “Mother, Mallory and I are no longer”—he waves his hand—“whatever we were before. She’s the best office manager we’ve ever had and a good neighbor, and that’s all. So let the woman eat in peace, okay?”
A hard band of regret squeezes my chest, making it almost impossible to breathe, much less eat. I turn to Nick, but he focuses on cutting another piece of chicken and chewing, completely unaware that my world is unraveling around me. The bastard. “You know, you could act like it bothers you just a little.”
He swallows his last bite and slowly turns to me, one eyebrow raised. “That what bothers me exactly?”
I roll my eyes at him. “That you’re not watching Lord of the Rings every night anymore.”
He fires back, “Who’s to say I’m not watching Lord of the Rings every night?”
My gaze narrows on his, the whole room disappearing except the two of us. “Are you saying, while I’ve been trying to sort out my baggage so that I know what I really want, you’ve been watching Lord of the Rings with someone else?”
“If you’ll recall, you told me that you didn’t want to watch Lord of the Rings with me anymore. So what business is it of yours who I watch movies with?”
I vaguely hear Nick’s dad try to ask his mom what the heck is so important about Lord of the Rings, but Victoria wasn’t born yesterday. She’s crafty and she may not know exactly what we’re talking about, but she knows it’s not about a damn movie about hobbits.
I can’t believe I’ve been pining away for Nick for a month, and he already moved on to someone new. The room is spinning and I might be sick, but I’m not leaving before I tell Nick what he can do with his goddamn apology now.
I open my mouth to t
ell him off, but nothing comes out. Not a single word. I’m too mad. No, I’m too devastated. I am shattering into so many pieces, I can’t recognize what parts of me are still here.
“You planning on stabbing me with that?” Nick nods to my hand gripping my knife.
What? Dear Lord. I relax my grip and set my knife and fork down. “Of course not.” I would never hurt Nick and—” My eyes go wide at where I was going with that thought. He would never hurt me. Not physically and not verbally. He’s nothing like my ex. Even when we’re fighting, he’s done nothing that would hurt me. Well, except tell his mom I’m just a coworker and a neighbor. That hurt, but honestly, I deserve it. And he deserves the truth.
“Nice try, but I know for a fact you’re not watching Lord of the Rings with anyone but me,” I challenge.
“What makes you so sure?” he challenges right back.
“For starters, because you’re nothing like my ex. Not even an atom similar.” A slow smile starts to lift one side of my mouth—just as it does his.
“Oh yeah? You think you know me that well?”
“Yes, I believe I do.” I take a deep breath and pray to every god there is that I don’t mess up what I need to say next. My heart is pounding in my chest as I begin. “You are brave enough to keep giving me another chance, kind enough to help an old lady and an almost-divorced one find happiness again, and you are smart enough to know when to give me space. You love animals or you’d never have adopted that ridiculous dog, Buttercup. You loved Aunt Maggie and took care of her. And most importantly, you think I’m amazing just the way I am.”
“Is that all?” he asks with an expectant look, and I know exactly what he wants to hear me say.
“I can’t believe I was ever worried you might turn out like my ex. Or that I might have terrible judgment in men. My ovaries have excellent taste; I just sometimes don’t listen to them. And they want you to know that they need you. I need you. Not to solve my problems but to just be there. And I’ll be there for you, too.”
Nick leans forward and picks up my hands, a smile twinkling in his eyes. “I told you your ovaries were smart.”
I grin back at him. “They’re my best feature. But to be fair, they really don’t care what happens when the hobbits leave the Shire. It’s sad, really.” I shake my head. “They said they’re having too much fun to give a damn at all.”
Nick is full-on grinning now, and for the first time since we sat down for dinner, a weight is lifting from my chest, my breath coming easier with every minute that passes. He tugs me into his lap.
“What about working at the law firm being the same as falling back into old habits and reliving your old life with Karl?”
I’m going to banish that man’s name from my vocabulary forever. “I was a dumbass for even thinking it.”
His dark gaze is brimming with promise. “So we give this thing a real chance?”
“I’m making no promises,” I feel I have to say, then add, “but yes, I would really, really like to give this a real chance.”
He leans forward and his lips are on mine, moving against them with abandon. When we finally break apart, we’re both gasping for breath.
I smooth his hair behind his ear. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were like my ex. For starters, you’re way better at kissing me—everywhere.”
I blush as he chuckles and pulls me closer.
But before our lips collide, Nick’s dad coughs, reminding us both we’re not alone, and asks, “So, umm, should we all watch Lord of the Rings after dinner?”
Three horrified sets of eyes turn to John as Nick, his mom, and I all say at the same time, “No!”
Then we glance around at each other and bust out laughing.
“I don’t get it,” John says. “I gathered from your discussion it was your favorite movie.”
Victoria leans over and squeezes John’s hand. “Dear, they love it like we love Star Wars.”
“Oh”—his eyes widen—“ohhhh.”
“Mo-om,” Nick groans. And we all break into another fit of laughter.
“I like her,” Victoria says, when we finally catch our breath. “Can we keep her?”
The look Nick gives me sears me right down to my toes with all the good (and good bad) things it promises. “Only if she wants to stay.”
“I do,” I say, meaning it more than anything else I’ve ever said in my whole entire life. “I really, really do.”
And so I do. And we do. And it is wonderful.
Epilogue
One year later…
The curtains hanging in the bedroom window aren’t hot-pink-and-green-zebra-striped like at my aunt’s house, but they still do an awful job of keeping out the sunlight first thing in the morning. The beams come in at the perfect angle to shine right in my eyes. Unwilling to give up the warmth of my bed, I try to roll over, but I’m stuck.
Nick’s arm is thrown across me and when I move, he tugs me closer so I’m plastered against his muscular form. I would have rolled the other way, but nine-months-pregnant bellies and sleeping facedown on the mattress doesn’t really work. I haven’t seen my toes in months, putting on underwear is its own kind of balancing hell, and I get heartburn after every meal. I’ve never been happier.
Judging by the steady state of my contractions since the sun woke me up this morning, I’m not going to be preggo much longer, either. I’m just lying here processing all that is about to change when Nick’s palm glides from the top of my belly to my breast—not that I’m complaining.
“Go back to sleep,” Nick says, his words tickling the back of my skin.
Yeah. That isn’t gonna happen. A baby is definitely coming. “Have you seen the sun coming in through the window?”
“I’m gonna board that thing up,” he grumbles before delivering a string of kisses up my neck. “How’s Happy doing this morning?”
That’s what Nick has called the baby since the day we found out I’m pregnant. We were doing the whole predawn-walk-of-shame thing for months when we found out we were part of the point zero, zero, zero, whatever percent of birth control fails—not that either of us saw our happy little accident that way. We were thrilled. What can I say? Timing has never been our strong suit.
At least my divorce from Karl had been final by then. And by final I mean Gina was true to her word and made him cry—and give me half the business before I signed. He is remarried with his own child born now, and I honestly wish him all the best. I’m too excited about the future with this amazing man to dwell on that asshole anyway.
And this morning, so is Happy. I take Nick’s hand and move it down from cupping my suddenly ginormous boobs to my round belly. Happy lets it be known that she’s ready to come feel that sunshine herself.
“Did she just kick?” Nick asks.
“Oh yeah,” I say with a chuckle. “Our girl’s a fighter.”
He kisses me again, this time on top of my shoulder. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
“About that.” I pause, letting the moment drag out for just the teensiest bit of drama. “How do you feel about this morning?”
Nick’s body freezes behind mine. “Today? Now?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He stumbles out of bed so fast, he half slides, half skates across the hardwood floor but still has the wherewithal to grab my overnight bag. “Let’s do this.”
Never mind the fact that per usual, he is buck naked. That he sleeps in the nude is one of my favorite parts of his routines.
“While I absolutely love the view,” I say, sitting up slowly and doing the a-little-this-way-a-little-that-way dance of pulling on comfy pajama pants. “Don’t you think you might want to get dressed first?”
He looks down, obviously completely surprised to see his own dick. “Fuck.”
He gets dressed in record time while I text Sarah, who is probably nursin
g her baby in the green room of Aunt Maggie’s old place (now hers), then my mom, and finally Nick’s mom. They’ll meet us at the hospital, of course, everyone eager to meet the new addition to our family. Then Nick comes over, kneels down on one knee in front of me, and ties my sneakers.
“Let’s go have a baby.” He looks up at me and grins. “You’re gonna be a great mom.”
“We’re gonna be great parents.”
Sure, we’ll make mistakes—what parents don’t?—but we also have people around us who care, not because of how we could burnish their image but just because. We have family—real family. And I mean that sincerely. While things are still a bit rocky between my dad and me, we really have been working hard to have a closer relationship. Happy is responsible for that.
Nick goes ahead of me down the stairs, holding out his hand so I can grasp it for balance. Then we walk out of the house, and Nick drives us to the hospital where many painful (even with the drugs) hours later, Margaret Elizabeth Victoria is born. But you know, her daddy just keeps calling her Happy—he isn’t the only one.
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Acknowledgments
This book was so much fun to write, so I first have to thank Avery Flynn for making it possible. You’re a fantastic cowriter and an even better person.
Liz Pelletier and Emily Sylvan Kim, for always having my back and for being the two best women in publishing, bar none.
To all the people at Entangled—Stacy Cantor Abrams, Elizabeth Turner Stokes, Curtis Svehlak, Jessica Turner. I am so lucky to work with the best, most supportive team in publishing and I am grateful to every single one of you. xoxoxo
And to my wonderful, wonderful family, who were less than enthusiastic about me diving right back into the breach but who rallied together (as always) to give me all the love and support and excitement I could ever ask for. I love you so much.
And finally, for my fans, who make this all possible. I am so grateful for all of your love and support for my books and me. It means more than I can ever say. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you a lot. :)
