There’s nothing in the fridge when I look inside, which is fine considering I’m not really hungry. As I try to determine whether a visit to the yoga studio or a bath is in order, the phone rings.
“Hello?” I say after I find it at the bottom of my purse, directly under the water bottle that caused all the commotion earlier today.
“Hey, you!” Joy chirps. “I got the job.”
“That’s fabulous! When do you start?”
“Next week. We need to celebrate.”
I cringe as I sink at one of the mismatched chairs at the kitchen table. Joy’s description of celebration doesn’t mesh with the description of my wallet. Her parents are friends of the Landry’s, meaning they have money. Lots of it. They could probably wallpaper their house with it if they wanted to.
“I’m going to be working a lot this week,” I say, figuring it’s the truth. “I’m not sure I’m going to have time to go out or shopping or whatever you have in mind.”
“Sienna and I are going shopping tomorrow after work. You’re invited, of course, but if you can’t, I understand, you working girl, you,” she giggles. “I need a completely updated look. Professional, but with a twist, you know, because there’s no reason to look stuffy.”
“Of course not,” I chuckle.
“Sienna said she might be going back to Los Angeles soon. I don’t think she planned on staying home so long, but she really missed her family.” Joy giggles.
“I’d miss them too,” I say, fanning my face. “Can you even imagine them all together in one room? I’ve only seen them in groups of two. I think my ovaries might explode.”
She bursts out laughing. “Graham isn’t how you remembered him, huh?”
I stand, the blue-and-white checkered cushion sticking to my legs. “I could kill you for not warning me,” I huff. “I had an hour—an hour!—to wrap my brain around the fact that he looks nothing like he did at eighteen. Not that it was helpful. I needed a friendly sit down from my best friend,” I emphasize, “and an explanation of what I was getting into.”
Joy’s voice bounces through the line, her amusement in this situation annoying me. I march through the house and into the bathroom and begin filling up the tub.
“I didn’t realize you didn’t know. I guess I didn’t think much about it. I mean, I talk to you practically every day. I forget you weren’t here.”
“Paybacks are a bitch,” I warn her.
“I was going to warn you. I swear. I just didn’t realize you actually accepted the position and were starting today.”
“Because you don’t listen,” I sigh. “You don’t, Joy.”
“I do too! I’m just . . . busy. I have so many balls up in the air right now . . .”
She continues on in some tirade about how hard her life is now that her parents have started to wean her off financially. They want her to get a job. She thinks they’re being unreasonable. It’s a little hard to hear when you’ve had a job, sometimes two, since you were fifteen.
“Mal?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” I say, stripping out of my dress. “I’m here.”
“Who’s not listening now?”
“I’m getting in the bath,” I say, turning the water off. After dumping in a handful of bath salts, I test the temperature with my toe. Perfect. After sinking in the tub, I rest my head against a towel. “There. What were you saying?”
“I was just asking how your day went. That’s all.”
“It went well, I think. It’s nothing too complicated and nothing I haven’t done before. They’re paying me really well too.”
She pauses. “That’s it?”
“Yeah. I mean, what are you wanting me to say?”
“Damn it, Mal! You know I’ve fantasized about the Landry boys since we were ten. The closest I’ve ever gotten to one is a quick kiss with Ford behind his mother’s car in sixth grade. I used to beg Camilla to have me stay the night just so I could try to see her brothers.”
“You’ve always been a little hoochie,” I laugh, my thighs pressing together as Graham’s chiseled face floats into my mind.
“So?”
We both laugh as the water soothes my tense muscles. I close my eyes and sigh. “Graham is outrageously good-looking.”
“You aren’t complaining, are you?”
“No, no, of course not,” I say hurriedly. “It’s just really hard to concentrate when he’s on the other side of the wall all day. I have to call in his office and alert him of calls or appointments, and his voice comes through the line, and I literally have to talk myself out of not taking a bathroom break and getting myself off. I just hope this works out . . .”
“I’m going to pretend I don’t hear that thing in your voice.”
“What thing?” I ask defensively.
“That bit of uncertainty. Just stop it. Everything will be fine.”
It’s easy for her to say. Her bills are paid regardless if she works or not. It’s not that simple for me. I only got into the private school that she, Camilla, and Sienna went to because I worked my butt off in middle school, filled out the paperwork for a scholarship, and practiced for a week straight for the entrance interview. We couldn’t afford it. And, frankly, my parents didn’t think a good education was really that important. I’d finish high school and go get a job at the factory or be a cashier at the hardware store and be happy. If I mentioned pursuing something different, they rolled their eyes and told me to be realistic. I wanted more.
Through pure determination on my part and maybe a toss of luck from up above, the administrators of the school let me in with a scholarship. It was the best day of my life.
Now I sit in this mediocre apartment and look around. The porcelain in the tub is cracking and the corner of the mirror above the sink is broken, and I fight off the unsteadiness that wobbles in my gut.
“Will it be okay?” I ask. “I feel so out of touch.”
“Out of touch with what?”
“With . . . me. I don’t know who I am or what I want or what’s even possible for me anymore, Joy. I’m having a midlife crisis,” I pout.
“You can’t have a midlife crisis at your age,” she scoffs.
“You totally can. I think it’s called a quarter-life crisis, actually.”
“Stop sounding all doom and gloom.”
“I don’t,” I toss back. “I’m just emotionally drained from today. Cut me some slack.”
She sighs. “I’m glad you came back here.”
Her reference to me not moving to North Dakota with my parents is thinly veiled. She knows I don’t have a terrific relationship with them and had I followed them north to the oil fields where my father is now working, I’d be miserable. But coming to Savannah, the place I call home even without my parents, was a risk.
“Me too,” I whisper. “I just hope this doesn’t end up on the list of ‘Mal’s bad decisions.’”
“It won’t. Things will work themselves out. They always do. Look at me, having a job and all. Who’d’ve thunk it?”
“True,” I giggle. “But I certainly don’t know what I’m doing right now,” I sigh. “But what choice did I have? Stay in nursing with a guy that made it clear he doesn’t see a future with me or suck it up and move on? This whole thing isn’t what I wanted or thought would happen, and I’m not sure where to go from here.”
“You’ve started that by taking the job with Graham. I think you’re doing great,” Joy says softly.
“If only I can stop thinking about him in a purely unprofessional way,” I giggle.
“If you figure out how to do that, share the knowledge. I’ve battled that almost my whole life!”
I sink further into the water. “You know what I really want?”
“Besides Landry naked?”
I roll my eyes. “I want to feel . . . like the me I used to know. I want to feel alive. I want to wake up and smile. I want to accomplish things, to feel powerful. I want to have things to look forward to, have goals, find someone th
at wants to laugh with me, go hiking, or get ice cream. That sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”
“No, no, it doesn’t,” she says.
Swirling the water around the tub, I think about what I just said. It’s the first time I’ve been able to really verbalize how I feel. I miss feeling like the girl with the drive to get into private school. I don’t know her anymore; I sacrificed her for a relationship in which I was little more than a plot device.
“You know,” I say, sitting up, the water splashing onto the floor, “Now that I think of it, I can’t remember a time when I was with Eric that I was truly happy. I just kept thinking that I would be happy, things just needed to line up the right way.”
“That sounds stupid.”
“I know.” My shoulders slump. “I kept thinking if I do this or do that or this happens that we would be happy.”
“Then why did you stay with him, Mal?”
I shrug. “We had fun together. Especially at the beginning, we saw movies and played euchre and had great sex,” I laugh. “It always felt like something was on the horizon. It just never materialized. Before I knew it, years had gone by and I felt like I didn’t even realize who I was.”
“I had no idea.”
“Me either,” I sigh. “I knew I felt sort of depressed and blah, but I didn’t realize why until he told me he didn’t see a future together. That sent a spark of reality through me. I thought, ‘How did I, Mallory Sims, get here?’ I don’t remember him holding me or asking me how my day was,” I say, the words coming faster as all of it hits me, “or caressing me. He didn’t ask my opinion or tell me he was proud of me or encourage me to do anything.”
“Love makes you do funny things.”
“I guess.”
She doesn’t even try to conceal her frustration. “The moral of this sad, depressing story is fuck Eric.”
“Fuck Eric,” I whisper.
“On that note, I need to go. I have a packet to read tonight before I go in tomorrow. It looks lame as hell, but I’ll give it a quick skim. Otherwise, I’ll regret it tomorrow. ”
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” I tease. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye!”
I toss my phone on a pile of towels and let my face dip beneath the water. Holding my breath, I’m reminded of the last time I couldn’t breathe.
Damn it, Graham.
Graham
REACHING OVERHEAD, I ADJUST THE desk lamp so it shines directly on the schedule in front of me. I should’ve had this done before I left the office this evening. I never leave without having the next day laid out. Even since everything has been in flux, I’ve stayed decently together. Today, however, was a bomb that shook everything more than the day Linda left.
Leaning back and placing the pencil in my hand in the center of the notebook, I consider Mallory. I should be mulling over her performance and not the way her ass felt against my hand. I need to be thinking about how she will fit in the Landry system, not how her chest fit snugly against mine. It would make sense to predict how she’ll benefit the family brand, not how she somehow makes the entire office seem a little brighter.
I’m. So. Fucked.
Leaping to my feet, the chair flying backwards and rattling the bookshelf behind me, I let the frustration I’ve felt creeping up get the best of me.
The house is dark as I make my way down the hall from my office to the living room. The door to each room lining the hallway is open, pressed firmly against the wall, just like I like it.
Flipping on the light in the living room, I sink into the brown leather sofa. I hit a button on the remote and the electric fireplace kicks on. The flames flicker beneath the mantle, sending shadows over the painting attached to the rockwork of the chimney.
This is my favorite place in the world. When I bought this house shortly after taking over Landry Holdings from my father, I knew this would be my escape from the business world and I also knew how important it was to have that. Dad had the home my mother created; I had to create my own.
The dark hardwood floors, warm golden walls, and pieces of tobacco-colored furniture. Here, tucked away in the living room, where I feel like I can drop all the hats—and sometimes, masks—that I wear daily. There’s nothing to juggle as I put my feet up on the leather ottoman and breathe. Well, nothing except that distraction that nibbles at my brain. The tumbler of whiskey earlier didn’t quell it. The three-point-one miles I ran with Ford didn’t either. Walking in the door to my home didn’t offer me the sense of peace I feel every night when I return from a day’s work. I’m as off as I have been all day.
Maybe that’s the problem. She bamboozled me.
Mallory, Mallory, Mallory, what am I going to do with you?
My chuckle breaks the silence. I know exactly what I want to do with her, to her, for her—everything I can’t. Everything I won’t.
A chirping sound rings from the kitchen counter and I pad through the house, my bare feet slapping against the wood, until I find it. “Hello?” I ask, glancing at the clock. “It’s one a.m., Barrett. Aren’t you supposed to be getting your beauty sleep?”
“I find it insulting you would suggest I need beauty sleep.”
“Noted.” I take out a new glass and pour another finger of whiskey. “So, what’s happening?”
“Did you talk to Linc today?”
The sound to his voice, a dose of amusement laced with annoyance, piques my curiosity. “Yeah, he called me earlier today.”
“That’s it?” he barks.
“Yeah. I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“The little shit is making me look bad!” he jokes. “I mean, I’m the oldest brother. I’m the fucking Governor, for heaven’s sake. And he has to go and get engaged and set a fucking date before I can even pop the question?”
My glass hits the marble counter with a thud. “There is so much about that last bit that I’m going to need explained,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “Lincoln got engaged?”
“Apparently. And they’re getting married at the Farm. And soon. I don’t remember the date, but it’s in the next few weeks.”
“You must’ve misheard,” I suggest, hitting the speakerphone button and setting the phone on the counter. “He couldn’t have scheduled the date. Engaged? Maybe. I think we all expected it. But set a date without talking to me? There’s so much to plan, to protect. It’s Lincoln, but he’s reasonable. He wouldn’t do that.”
“He did it, G.”
“Then who the hell is putting it together? Who is making sure his interests are protected? Tell me he signed a fucking prenup,” I groan.
Barrett sighs. “I don’t know. He just calls today and asks if I can be in town for it. It’ll be a pain in the fucking ass, but of course I’ll be there. I’m just pissed he couldn’t have waited awhile.”
“Glad to know I’m the last to know.”
Irritation sweeps through my body as I stand in the middle of my kitchen, looking at my phone like it’ll be forthright with answers.
“I had no idea he didn’t even tell you,” Barrett says, his voice now tempered.
“Well, he didn’t.”
“I was just calling to bitch about him making me look bad. Now I feel bad for telling you.”
Peeling off the black t-shirt I slipped on to run with Ford, I wad it in a ball. “Logically speaking, what did you expect, Barrett? You’ve been with Alison a while. You’re moving her with you to Atlanta. Her kid calls our mom ‘Grandma’ now. Were we all supposed to chill out and wait until you finally grew the balls to ask her to marry you?”
He doesn’t answer, just sighs deeply into the line.
“Why haven’t you?” I ask. “Is something going on that I don’t know about?”
“No,” he says quickly. “It’s nothing like that. I just . . . I keep thinking she’s going to walk out. She hates so much of this life I live, and although Hux is taking it like a champ, she’s in constant worry mode over it. I get it. I respect it. But I’m
afraid if I really take that next step, it’ll jinx it.”
“Barrett, do you think a ring on her finger will change anything? It’s just a symbol of something you already have. She needs that.”
I bite back the bile in my throat, the bitterness creeping quicker than it has in a long, long time.
I remember her face, the long black locks splayed across my pillow. The sound of her voice as we debated philosophy into the wee hours of the morning.
“All people need to be loved, Graham.” She gazed into my eyes, the first rays of morning light streaking across her face. “I need you to love me. I need you to show me you do, to quell that thirst in my soul.”
“What do you want from me, Vanessa?”
“I want you to put me first, above everything else. Like I do you.”
“Is this about me having to go home this weekend?” I brush a strand of hair out of her face. “I have to. I told my father I’d be there late Friday night.”
“How can you love me and leave me here? I need you too, you know. You always leave me when they call.”
“They’re my family. That company will be mine. What am I supposed to do?”
“Stay with me,” she breathes, planting kisses up my chest. “Need me like I need you.”
I thought I did need her. Maybe she convinced me that I did, but I fell for it hook, line, and sinker.
“How did you get so smart about relationships?” Barrett charges, pulling me back to the present. “You holding out on us?”
“Nah,” I say, downing the whiskey. The burn pushes the bitterness down with its fire. “Not me.”
“Why not you? Don’t you want to settle down, G? I know you have your tail on the side, but aren’t you getting tired of that shit?”
Of course I want to settle down. The logical part of me knows if I never find a woman and fall in love again, I’ll miss out on a huge part of life itself. Family is the most important thing in the world to me, and there’s nothing more I’d like than to have my own. But the other part of me, the part that remembers what all of that feels like when you realize it’s all smoke and mirrors, is just as strong. Maybe stronger.
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