Ready or Not

by Melissa Brayden

  “Naturally,” Mallory said, enjoying the cheerful visual. Hope was smiling today, clearly in creative mode, and it stole Mallory’s breath to see her so into her work. With everything about her so vibrant, she lit up the whole room. God, she’d missed seeing that in Hope lately, and just like that, her energy shifted up. “You look like you’re feeling better.”

  “I am. Shower time is down to ten minutes from thirteen. Progress. Hold your applause.”

  “Okay, but only because you demand it. Can I make you lunch?”

  “Too late. I made you some,” Hope said and gestured with her chin to the sandwich she’d laid out for Mallory. “Fresh turkey with a slice of avocado and garlic mayonnaise. Your favorite. Oh, and a side of salt-and-vinegar potato chips because I’m no fool. I still don’t understand how you like those things, however.”

  “They have bite,” Mallory said, lifting the plate. “Like me.”

  “You think you have bite?” Hope retrieved the plate she’d made for herself and had set aside until Mallory arrived, this one with regular potato chips like a normal person. She picked up a chip and gestured at Mallory in a circle. “Grow up in my neighborhood and you’ll see tons of people with real bite. It isn’t pretty either.”

  “I have lots of bite. You don’t know.”

  Hope laughed. “Okay then, clearly, I’m mistaken.”

  “Clearly,” Mallory said and took a seat at the island next to Hope. “Have you not noticed my power suits and killer heels? Total bite. Please don’t neglect to register the killer heels, because they’re Jimmy Choos.” She gestured to the navy-blue, pinstriped pants suit all the way down to the pumps she’d worn to work that day and watched as Hope gave her a once-over.

  “I have, in fact, noticed the Jimmy things. And the business suits. Because, well, hard not to…” She felt the warmth move into her cheeks.

  Mallory bit into a chip and smiled. “Wait a minute. Are you blushing right now?”

  “No way.” Hope stared back at Mallory, who looked glamorous and like the girl next door all wrapped into one. How was that even possible? One thing she did know for sure was that she liked being there when Mallory came home for lunch. Hell, she liked making her lunch. There was something decidedly domestic about it.

  But at the same time, alarm bells sounded, and due to recent events, she wasn’t sure she should entertain those kinds of thoughts about Mallory. It was a fact she’d been trying desperately to face, and if Mallory hadn’t shown up at the hospital, it would have been decidedly easier.

  But she had. She’d been there for Hope and that was everything.

  Yet, logistically, they were still a very bad idea.

  Hope wasn’t exactly Park Avenue material and never would be. The prospect of always feeling like she fell short of the ideal would surely eat away at her over time if they were together, and then where would they be? What she and Mallory had was more powerful than anything she’d ever experienced. The girl only had to flash a smile and Hope was putty in her hands, and she had the distinct feeling it worked both ways. But they could tear each other apart if they let themselves, and that wasn’t good for anyone.

  They weren’t a match.

  So instead of continuing the line of flirtation that had cropped up, they ate their lunch in that easy silence you can only achieve with someone you’re comfortable with. And Mallory was that for her now. Regardless of whether they were sleeping together, she planned to hold on to that friendship and sidestep the rest as best she could, because Mallory was too important.

  Maybe one day it would get easier…

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Sweetheart, what do you think of the blue?” Mallory looked on as her mother held up a periwinkle blouse Mallory had utterly mixed feelings about.

  “It’s beautiful, Mom.”

  “They say periwinkle is this summer’s peach. I don’t know how I feel about peach.”

  “Do they say that?” Mallory asked absently. Her mother had invited her on a midday shopping excursion, which Mallory figured was just a guise for a little one-on-one time, a chance for them to talk for the first time about her parents’ relationship. Turned out, not so much, as they were now legitimately shopping for her mother’s summer wardrobe at Barney’s. Shopping! Mallory’s patience was wearing thin, as the one thing she didn’t want to do on their shopping excursion was shop. Was that too much to ask?

  “Mallory, why do you have that sour look on your face? It reminds me of when you were ten and found out that those stupid tennis shoes on the commercial didn’t really make you fly.”

  She tried to brighten, but it was as if her smile muscles weren’t working in some sort of smile-muscle betrayal typical to her life of late. Instead she blew out a breath and leveled with her mother, because honestly, why continue the girls’-day-out-shopping charade? “I thought maybe you’d invited me out to talk. About things…with you…and Dad…and the tennis coach.”

  “The divorce,” her mother filled in.

  “Right. The divorce. Are you still getting that? Because it would be great if maybe we all rethought that decision a moment. Maybe took five and found a way to Oprah this thing to a healthy place.”

  Her mother nodded solemnly and lifted a halfhearted hand in the direction of the nearby mannequin. “I always found that a little extracurricular shopping cured the most incurable of blues.”

  “Is that what this is?” Mallory asked, trying to piece the weird afternoon together. “An attempt to cheer me up via fashion distraction?” The wide-eyed look on her mother’s face told Mallory that was exactly what was happening, and the concept softened her heart a tad. “Mom, you don’t have to do that. If anything, I just want the chance to hear from you, to try and understand what went wrong with you and Dad. The whole thing was a blindside, and I pride myself on intuition. I guess it’s kind of messed with my head a bit.”

  “Right. Okay. We should talk then and shop another day. Next Tuesday after work? We could invite your sister as long as you don’t let her bully me into blazers. I don’t do blazers in summer even if she thinks the rolled-up cuffs are chic. I think they’re boxy and unflattering and won’t tolerate it.”

  “Sure, Mom. Tuesday would be fine and nary a blazer shall be purchased.”

  Her mother returned the blouse to the rack in what seemed to be acquiescence. “Let’s head to the café. They have the absolute best tiramisu, and I know how much you love tiramisu.”

  Mallory smiled because once when she was a kid, she’d offhandedly said something to that effect to her mother, who’d held on to the comment as gold ever since. She would forever be the child of theirs that adored tiramisu, even if she didn’t love it. Then again, there were worse associations.

  “I’d like that.”

  “Me too.”

  What Mallory hadn’t been prepared for, however, was the sight of her father sitting at a table in the café when they arrived. He waved at them and stood, kissing her mother on the cheek and then a stunned Mallory. “Daddy? What are you doing here?”

  Her mother gestured to him. “We thought it might be nice to talk to you together. I was planning for us to discuss matters. I just thought a little shopping first might be nice.”

  “Okay. We can do that.”

  They all took a seat, and Mallory looked nervously from one of her parents to the other.

  “We’re here together as a united front,” her mother finally said, in way of explanation, and that was good because Mallory required one.

  She struggled to understand, a new possibility flaring in her chest. “So you’re not getting divorced?”

  Her mother’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. We most certainly are.”

  “As soon as possible in fact.”

  “Oh,” Mallory said, back in the land of deflation where she was getting kind of comfortable.

  Her mother turned to Mallory. “I’m in love with Forest and we want to get married.”

  “Wow,” Mallory said.

  “And thou
gh Janice and I aren’t to that point just yet, we are looking at getting a place together in Tribeca,” her father told her.

  Mallory sighed. “So this is actually happening? As in good-bye family and our entire history together?”

  Her father raised a finger. “No. That’s why we’re here. It’s not like that at all. We love each other. We always have. Your mother means the world to me.”

  “And I think very highly of your father.”

  Mallory scrubbed her eyes because her brain hurt. “You just don’t want to be married anymore?”

  “That’s right,” her father said. “But I wouldn’t trade a moment of our life together, or the time we spent raising you kids.”

  Her mother jumped in. “The fact that we’ve moved on to other people sexually doesn’t necessarily mean we’re out of each other’s lives.” Mallory squeezed the table because her mother just said the word sexually. In the back of her mind, she realized her mother was still talking. “There are Christmases and birthdays to celebrate, and I, for one, plan to be at all of them, and so does your father.”

  “That’s right,” he said.

  “And the affairs?”

  She watched as her parents exchanged a look. “We don’t relish that word,” her mother said. “We fell in love with other people, but everything was up front. No one lied or snuck around.”

  “So you both knew the whole time?”

  They exchanged another look and seemed to make a silent decision.

  Her mother turned to her and nodded. “It’s not the way every marriage would have handled it, but we did what felt right for us. We had the family to think about.”

  “We thought it was to the benefit of you kids,” her father said, “that we keep everything discreet, at least until Ellen graduated in December.”

  “But then the anniversary party happened,” her mother chimed in. “And you.”

  “And me,” Mallory echoed, still trying to wrap her mind around this whole thing.

  Her parents were two people who used to be in love, who then fell in love with other people, but had remained the best of friends throughout. No one snuck around and neither of them lied to the other. It just wasn’t the kind of story you heard very often. “So what now?” she asked them.

  Her parents exchanged a smile, and she marveled at how in sync they seemed to be on this whole issue. Her father fielded this one. “We’ll start by talking to your brothers and sisters, mitigate their concerns, and then…”

  “We get to live our lives,” her mother said.

  Mallory detected a tempered excitement in the manner in which each spoke, as if they wouldn’t quite allow themselves to be happy just yet, to believe it was all about to happen. And in some small way, Mallory understood that. They were about to be out in the open and free to live their lives with the people they loved, but it had to be scary at the same time.

  Flying without a net.

  As far as Mallory’s own feelings went, it would prove difficult for her not having her parents together anymore, but looking at them now, they seemed to carry such excitement at where they were headed. And God, she wanted to support them, to give them that much, but the perfect words weren’t there. Instead, she spoke from her heart.

  “This isn’t easy for me. I don’t do well with change, as you know, so it’s going to take some time to get used to this whole thing. But at the same time, I feel like if this is what you both want, then I’m happy for you, and we’ll get through this. I know we will.”

  Her mother beamed and her father seemed to sit a little taller. “That’s more than I’d hoped for,” he said finally.

  “You’re a wise girl,” her mother said, squeezing her hand. “You always were.”

  “I don’t know about that,” she said.

  “What about you?” she asked Mallory. “How are things with Hope? I enjoyed meeting her and was glad to hear that they arrested the men responsible for her attack.”

  “She’s better, though she’ll still have to testify.”

  “Let me know if I can help,” her father said, and Mallory smiled, because honestly, he’d gone above and beyond already. Because of his connections, various attorneys at the DA’s office had pored over the case against Dominic, and the guy had been brought up on multiple charges. She was grateful to her father for that much.

  “I will, and thank you.” Their food arrived and she focused on her quail-and-spinach salad.

  “So is it serious between the two of you?” her mother asked.

  “We’re just friends right now.” Her mother’s mouth formed into a small circle that seemed to carry some sort of judgment. “What’s that look?”

  Her mother lifted a shoulder. “You seemed…rather taken with her is all. I liked seeing you smile that whole new way.”

  She’d liked smiling that way too. “I am rather taken with her, as in present tense. But, well, things got a little tricky and we decided to take a step backward.”

  “That’s unlike you,” her father said, jumping in. “Since when has tricky stopped you from going after what you want?”

  “There’s more to it than that, Dad. I think she needs time to understand what I already do, and I’m going to give her that. So to answer your question, nothing’s stopping me, but I’m not going anywhere either.”

  Her father bowed his head. “I apologize. It seems you know exactly what you’re doing.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I think—”

  But she didn’t get to finish as Mr. Lowery and Mrs. Lowery, friends of her parents, stopped by their table. On cue, her father rose and shook Mr. Lowery’s hand. The two women were already exchanging cheek kisses and pleasantries like something you’d see on Downton Abbey. “You remember Mallory, our middle daughter, don’t you?” her mother said.

  “Of course. How are you, sweetheart?”

  Mallory offered a smile. “I’m doing just fine, Mrs. Lowery. It’s nice to see you again. You know, I ran into your daughter Sophie not too long ago at the bar down the street from my apartment, Showplace. She’s getting really good at—”

  “I wish she wouldn’t spend time in bars, but she doesn’t listen to me.”

  Mallory took a moment with the sentence, because it would probably prove difficult for a cocktail waitress to abstain from time in bars. Maybe Sophie’s mother wasn’t thrilled with the job, however.

  “And how is Sophie?” Mallory’s mother asked.

  “She’s doing quite well, surprisingly,” Mrs. Lowery said. “Decided against college, despite our advice, but has landed herself a nice little job at an attorney’s office and is moving up the ladder. Just this month, she was sent home with a rather sizable bonus and a raise. I had no idea legal assistants made that kind of money.”

  “Well, I suppose every office is different,” her father said. “That’s fantastic.”

  Mr. Lowery nodded. “Isn’t it? We’d given her until this month to get on her feet, and it seems she’s done it. Already financially independent.”

  “Kids are amazing that way,” her own mother said.

  Mrs. Lowery placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “We’ll let you get back to your lunch. It was nice to see you all.”

  With that, they were gone, and Mallory found herself turning over the details of that conversation. So Sophie was a bit of a bold-faced liar, interesting.

  Her parents turned to small talk and their food arrived. What transpired was a surprisingly pleasant lunch with two people who’d soon be divorcing each other. The world was most assuredly a complicated place—that was for sure. And while she was still a little queasy at the thought of this new shift in her family, the lunch let her know there was hope for them all.

  Even her.

  *

  Hope had perfected the one-handed pour to masterful measures, but in an even happier turn of events, she no longer had to employ it. She turned to Teddy as she mixed a White Russian with both arms in play. “I’m kind of a rock star again, do you realize this?”

&
nbsp; Teddy stared at her. “You’re not bad. But I’m saving my celebration for when you can put on a show again. I miss it a little, as do your fans.” It was true that with the broken ribs, she wasn’t able to toss glasses or juggle ingredients the way she sometimes would, but that part was just for glitz anyway. “When are you cleared for business as usual?” he asked.

  “I met with the doctor yesterday, and he said I’m healing well. Shower time is down from ten to eight minutes, which I personally take satisfaction in. He thinks within two weeks, I should be back to my old self. I’m shooting for one.”

  “Because you’re stubborn. Am I interrupting?”

  Hope turned to find Mallory standing there, her forearms on the bar. “No, you are not, but it’s the middle of the workday and you’re in a bar. So against the Mallory rules. The people might find out.”

  She smiled. “You would think, but I’m actually here for reasons outside of a good time.”

  “A shame,” said Teddy.

  “So do you guys have a second?”

  Hope nodded. “We do. What’s up?”

  “So, call me crazy, but I think little Miss Sophie might have walked off with your missing cash.”

  “As in Sophie the cocktail waitress? You think she’s the thief?” Hope asked. “I somehow don’t see that matching up.”

  Teddy swiveled in Mallory’s direction, interested. “Why do you say that?”

  Mallory went on to recount a conversation with her parents’ friends, the Lowerys, over lunch. “So there’s no way she’s working at a law firm by day, is there?” Mallory asked.

  Hope shook her head. “No. She’s never mentioned coordinating with another work schedule.”

  “Yet she somehow comes into a large raise and a bonus to boot right around the time your bank drop goes missing?”

  “The timing is a little suspect,” Teddy said. “It would explain a lot.”

  Mallory held up her hands. “Just talk to her. That’s all I’m saying. And with that, I have to leave this place and return to work. Oh, before I go, how are you feeling?”