Table for Two

by Jennifer Mckenzie

  “Travis.” Sara’s cheerful voice plucked him out of his morose thoughts. “Over here.” She waved at him from a couple of feet away where she stood with a redhead who was just as tall and attractive as she was. “I want you to meet my wife, Jill.”

  They talked for a few minutes. Jill was as bright and friendly as Sara and worked as a lawyer for a nonprofit in the city. But Travis, as much as he tried not to, couldn’t help checking over his shoulder every so often, watching the door, just in case Mal came back.

  “Looking for someone?” Sara’s tone was casual, almost a throwaway.

  “Just keeping an eye on things. I am the owner, you know.”

  “Right. So this wouldn’t have anything to do with Mal?” Sara turned to her spouse. “Remember how I told you what a pain in the ass he was being about finding a place to live? I think I just found out why. Or—” her eyes slid over to Travis “—should I say who?”

  “I haven’t been a pain in the ass.” He and Sara had only viewed about twenty places. It wasn’t his fault none of them were right.

  “Yes, you have.” But Sara didn’t look mad, more amused. “And I notice he didn’t deny my theory. What do you think?” She winked at Jill. “Proof?”

  “Yes. Though it wouldn’t actually hold up in a court of law.”

  Sara turned her attention back to him. “So, what happened?”

  “Sara.” Jill placed a hand on Sara’s arm. “Maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but he’s going to have to. He needs to stop turning his nose up at every apartment we see. Is it because you keep looking at it and wondering if she’ll like it?”

  Travis didn’t want to admit it, but that was the reason. Exactly. He was finding an issue with every single place because some small part of him still held out hope that he and Mal might get back together. That he pictured Mal in the kitchen, dishing out Chinese takeout because they were both too tired to cook, or curled up on the couch with her feet tucked under his thigh, or walking a baby up and down the hallway, a maternal glow making her smile even though she was exhausted. “I just don’t want to jump into anything.”

  “No.” Sara’s face was full of faux concern. “Much like you waited months before finally deciding this place was right.”

  She had a point. “That was different.” He felt obligated to defend himself. Sara and Jill simply looked back at him. “This place was perfect.”

  “And is Mal?”

  “No one’s perfect.” Even though Travis could think of a million ways she was.

  “Maybe not,” Sara mused. “But is she perfect for you?”

  Travis didn’t answer. Not because he didn’t know, but because he was afraid to say it out loud. Because what if that wasn’t enough? What if his love wasn’t enough?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  MAL WAS SITTING in her office, staring blankly at her computer screen when Donovan walked in. She felt as though she was doing a lot of blank staring since the charity event last week. Seeing Travis had rocked her—seeing him with another woman had turned her upside down.

  “Mal.” Donovan took a seat without asking. “We need to talk.”

  She blinked and focused on him. He was frowning, an expression she hadn’t seen on his face much of late. “Okay.” She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “Let’s talk.”

  “I’m worried about you.”

  Mal felt her smile wobble and then fall. “I’m fine,” she said, even though she knew it wasn’t true. She hadn’t been fine since she’d refused Travis’s proposal. In truth, maybe it had been even longer than that—all the way back to the first breakup. She’d just been able to hide it better from herself and everyone else then.

  “You’re not fine,” Donovan said, smashing any hope she might have at least fooled him. “We all see it. We’re all concerned.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She clasped her hands on her lap, holding tight as though, by virtue of sheer grip strength alone, she could make herself okay. “No one needs to worry.”

  “Too late.” His dark eyes turned down at the corners. “I don’t like seeing you this way.”

  Mal glanced away, busied herself with some papers on her desk. “Then maybe you should stop looking.” Maybe he and everyone else should just let her deal with things in her own way, in her own time. Eventually, she’d get through it.

  “Mal, come on.”

  “Come on nothing, Donovan.” The paper crumpled in her hands. “What’s done is done. It’s over. It’s not going to change.”

  “You can’t live like this again.”

  “Like what?” Her head shot up along with her temper. Was there some problem with how she chose to run her life? “Do I need to remind you that I’m an adult and can make decisions about my own life without your input?”

  “That isn’t what I meant and you know it.” He tilted his head, drummed his fingers on his knee. “You’re really spoiling for a fight.”

  “I’m not spoiling for anything.” But she heard the waspish tone of her voice. She cleared her throat. “I’m just tired, Donovan. It’s been a busy month.”

  “Right.” He didn’t look as if he believed her. Since she didn’t believe it herself, she didn’t call him on it. “You can’t shut down again.”

  “I’m not.”

  He sat forward. “You are. We watched once—thinking it was best to let you work through it on your own.”

  “It was,” Mal tried to agree, but Donovan wasn’t finished.

  “That turned out to be a mistake. We won’t let it happen again.”

  Mal tossed her head. “Since, as we just discussed, it’s my life, I don’t see that it’s any problem of yours.” She glared, waited for him to disagree, prepared for her own defense of her behavior.

  So she was hurting and spending the little time she wasn’t in the office alone at her apartment. So what? She was trying to keep busy so she didn’t start thinking about what she’d let go, what she’d lost. And maybe it didn’t always work, but she was trying, which really was half the battle. That she felt as if she was losing was something she chose not to think about.

  “I’ve got a job for you,” Donovan said.

  Mal blinked. Where was the “brother knows best” attitude? The bossy, oldest child syndrome, as he tried to tell her how she should feel about Travis. As though he had any clue how it felt to fail in a relationship not once, but twice. As though he wasn’t living the perfect life. “I have a job, Donovan. Or are you firing me?”

  He didn’t rise to the bait. Mal wasn’t sure if she was happy or sad about that. “Remember those meetings we had last summer in Calgary?”

  “Yes.” She drew out the word. About a year ago, around the time Donovan was beginning to plan his own wedding, the two of them had met with some investors in Calgary to consider the idea of expansion. Calgary was a growing town with plenty of residents that had come from Vancouver, so the Ford Group name meant something. “And I remember that we decided not to pursue that avenue.”

  Neither side had been able to agree on who would hold what share, where the bars would be located or even timing of openings.

  “Well, they’ve reached out with some concessions. I think you should go there and meet with them in person.”

  Mal narrowed her eyes. “Is this serious? Or just something to get me away from the office?”

  “It’s serious.” He eyed her for a moment before a small grin spread across his face. “And to get you away from the office.”

  Mal considered it. She certainly wouldn’t mind getting out of the office. “I don’t want to waste my time—time I could spend doing something else.” Even though she’d been spinning her wheels a little since the charity event. She had a few more things to do regarding the anniversary party for her parents, but Grace was hand
ling most of the organization and Julia was on top of the food. Even her brothers were active participants, leaving Mal with only minor duties.

  “It’s not wasting time. They’ve made an interesting offer, but I want someone to go and talk to them in person—you know what a difference that makes. We need to know if they’re serious, and you’re the one I trust.”

  “You don’t want to go?” She was surprised. Donovan liked to be in control. In fact, he and Owen still butted heads over things on a semiregular basis, though not as much as they’d once done. Marriage had mellowed both of them.

  Her heart hiccuped. Marriage. Something that now seemed so off the radar for her that she thought it might not ever happen. Maybe she wasn’t the marrying kind.

  “I think you need this,” Donovan said.

  “And if it’s a good deal? Am I signing then and there?”

  “Don’t go crazy. We’d need to discuss it as a family, but it’s a possibility, which brings me to another question. How would you feel about moving there if the deal is a go?”

  Mal sat back in her chair, the paper she was still holding rustling when she pressed it into her stomach. “Moving?” She’d never considered that. It hadn’t come up in their previous conversations. Moving away from her family? Her life? Leaving it all behind?

  She had moved before, and to a much more distant location, but she hadn’t been going it alone then. She’d had Travis. Or so she’d thought. But he definitely wouldn’t be part of the conversation now. She swallowed.

  “I think it’s important to have a presence if we decide to move forward with this. Someone who can oversee things on a day-to-day basis. Someone we can trust.”

  Mal understood all of that and agreed. But moving? Calgary wasn’t far, not like Aruba was far. But it wasn’t exactly next door. If she needed to get home, if there was an emergency, she couldn’t just hop in a car and be there in five minutes. The drive was long and through mountainous terrain. Flights were considerably faster, but even though flights were daily—many times a day, in fact—and of reasonable times, it would still take hours to get home. And she could forget about Sunday dinners—she wouldn’t be attending many of those.

  “It’s a real opportunity for us.” Donovan’s voice broke into her personal thoughts. “And an opportunity for you. You can grow the brand and the company, guide us into the future.”

  Mal did like that idea. She had plenty of thoughts on what the company could be doing, but she’d always thought about doing them here. Nestled in the city where she’d been born and raised, the place her family still called home. She looked at her oldest brother. “Have you told anyone else about this?”

  “Not yet. I wanted to run it by you first to see if you were interested.” He paused. “So, are you?”

  That was the million dollar question. Or, if things went well with the possible expansion, the multimillion dollar question. “I need to think about it. It wouldn’t just be moving to a new city. It would be like starting over.” Even as she said it aloud, a little part of her wondered if maybe that was what she needed. A fresh start. A new place where the baggage of her past wouldn’t feel quite so heavy. But she’d miss everyone.

  And part of her couldn’t help but question why she’d moved back to Vancouver in the first place, upsetting not just her own life, but Travis’s too, if she was going to pick up and leave again.

  “Of course. There’s no rush to decide. We don’t even know if the deal will work out, but it’s something to consider. And if you don’t want to move, but we do want to expand there, we should think about other options.”

  Mal nodded. “Okay.” But her mind was already shooting down options that might be suggested. It was too big a project for any of their current staff to manage. They just didn’t have anyone who could slide into the duties the role would demand and flourish. Which meant it would need to be one of them: her, Owen or Donovan.

  Which meant her. Because Julia was the chef at their lone fine dining restaurant and was part owner, which meant Donovan wouldn’t move. And Grace had a thriving and growing wedding planning business, which meant Owen wouldn’t move.

  Did she want to move?

  “You sure you’re okay?” Donovan asked. He still hadn’t shifted from the chair.

  Mal tamped down the thoughts rolling through her head. She didn’t have to make a decision this minute. She might not have to make a decision at all if the deal turned out to be a lemon. But it was hard not to analyze the potential and the pitfalls now that it had been put to her. “It’s a lot to think about.”

  “I know.” He did rise then. “And whatever you decide, we’ll support you.”

  Support her. Whether she stayed or went. Whether she chose what was best for the company or what was best for her. They’d be on her side. Mal drew in a shuddery breath and managed to keep the tears from rising to her eyes until Donovan stepped out of her office.

  She waited until she heard him walk out and down the hall before she rose, closed the door behind him with a firm click and indulged in a nice, private cry.

  * * *

  TRAVIS STOOD BEHIND the bar at The Blue Mill polishing the already gleaming wood. They weren’t open for the day yet and the closing staff had done a great job last night, but he liked doing this job anyway. The slow, easy circular motion, the steady movement going from one end of the bar to the other. It allowed him to fall into the zone, the busywork for his hands allowing his mind to wander.

  He found he often did his best thinking this way, or his best not-thinking—keeping focused on the task rather than facing the issues that kept him awake at night. This way he wouldn’t have to think about anything but ensuring the bar acquired a perfect polish.

  Travis was halfway through his second effort when the front doors rattled. He kept rubbing down the wood, the lemon scent of the polish tickling his nose. They didn’t open for business for another couple of hours, which the door-rattler outside would figure out by looking at the sign posted beside the door. If that didn’t work, the lack of response would help him figure it out.

  The rattling came again, followed by a short, impatient knock. Travis ignored those, too. He knew from experience that if he answered, the customer would try to talk his way in. And even if it wasn’t against his business license, Travis didn’t feel like letting anyone in at the moment.

  It was just him and his bar.

  “I know you’re in there, Travis.” The knock was louder this time and more forceful. It put the previous rattling to shame.

  What was Owen doing here?

  Travis put down the rag to find out. He’d had limited contact with the Fords since Mal had turned down his proposal. In part because it had felt wrong to keep seeing them, as though the breakup had meant so little that it was business as usual. In part because it hurt to see them, to see the family he’d thought would join his. That future was all but shattered now.

  He unlocked the door to find Owen standing on the sidewalk, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s about time.”

  “Good to see you, too.” Travis stepped back, allowing Owen entrance and then relocked the door. “What are you doing here?”

  “Checking up on you.” Owen took a seat at the bar and turned, waiting until Travis joined him. “You look terrible.”

  “If this is your idea of checking up on me, your bedside manner leaves something to be desired.”

  Owen merely shrugged. “Doesn’t change the fact that you look like ass.”

  Since Travis had seen the truth of that in the mirror himself, he simply ignored the comment. “Want a drink? Something to eat?”

  The bar was fully stocked and he had a personal stash of potato chips in his office that he was willing to share, so long as Owen refrained from making any further comments on his appearance.

  “I’m good.” Owen rested his hand
on the bar. Travis started polishing again.

  They were both quiet for a full minute, one man leaving fingerprints, the other rubbing them away.

  “So, this is what you do all day?” Owen rolled his thumb back and forth over the spot Travis had just cleaned. “Polish the bar and ignore your customers?”

  “I’m not ignoring you and you’re not a customer.”

  “Fair enough.” Another minute of silence.

  Travis glanced up as he polished, but Owen simply looked back and continued to make marks on the bar. Travis rubbed harder, as though that could erase all of his life’s disappointments.

  “She’s thinking about moving.”

  Travis’s fingers clenched the rag, the hard press sending out a waft of lemon. “Oh.”

  “To Calgary.”

  Travis didn’t look up from the bar and kept polishing, even though Owen had moved his hands away from the wood surface. But while Travis’s motions remained smooth and easy, his pulse was thundering—a storm of emotion looking for a place to unleash itself. Mal was moving. Away from him. He crumpled the rag into a little ball.

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  Travis looked up at his friend. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Then let me be clear.” Owen leaned forward and planted his hands on the bar top. “She’s leaving. Maybe forever.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because—” Owen half rose from his seat “—she’s miserable without you, and while I’m still mad about what happened, I know you love her.”

  “I do.” Travis’s heart flipped over when he said it.

  “And I think she’s happier with you than without you. Even though you aren’t good enough for her.”