by Emma Hart
“Do not go snooping through my panties drawer!”
“I can’t get any if I don’t look!”
“Damn it!”
***
My mother stood in the doorway to my office, glaring at me like I’d committed a cardinal sin.
I quietly sipped my coffee and motioned that she should come in if she’d like.
She did, gliding across the floor like she owned the room. Technically, she did. I just ran it.
She sat down with the elegance I’d known all my life, and I was ready. Despite her own fantastic love story she liked to share, I knew she’d wanted me to marry one of her friend’s daughters, so I was prepared for the ball-busting speech I knew she’d come in to give me. I knew that she knew I’d taken Mallory out. One of her friends worked at the hospital, and she’d seen me carrying Mallory in.
I didn’t care.
Sure, we’d discussed keeping our date a secret, but that had been blown the moment we’d gone out in public, never mind going to the hospital.
My mother was like the mafia. She had people everywhere, and they reported back to her like she was a queen.
And I just didn’t care.
I couldn’t care. I didn’t have it in me to care. Mallory was growing on me in more ways than one—sure, she was clumsy and prone to accidents, but that was just who she was. She was also funny and kind and just the best kind of person to be around.
I wanted her. I wanted to get to know her more, to find out what she liked beyond nachos and serial killers and apparently, random trips to the emergency room.
Mom crossed her legs and linked her fingers, resting them on her knee. She was still staring at me, waiting for me to make the first move.
I wasn’t going to. If she wanted to yell at me, she could make the first move.
I tore my gaze from her and back to the computer screen. With Mallory at home for the next three days, I had to take on a lot of her job. I’d directed the phone to Amanda’s line downstairs, and Mallory had insisted on handling the computer work from her laptop.
I hadn’t argued. She’d been pissed that she’d fallen asleep before she found out who the murderer was in her documentary, then she’d gotten mad that I hadn’t paused it and just turned it off.
I practically choked her with painkillers until she cheered up.
I wasn’t mad. Mini golf had been my idea, and I should have taken one look at that thing and known that the accident-prone woman I was starting to feel some very real things for would find a way to hurt herself.
For most people, that would be off-putting.
For me? Eh. Like I said: her clumsiness was adorable to me, mostly because she blushed every time she messed up, and I quickly realized that her blushing was like kryptonite to me.
“Oh, this is ridiculous. You’re stubborn, just like your father,” Mom finally snapped.
“Good morning, Mother. What brings you into the office on this fine Saturday?” I shot her a bright smile, employing Mallory’s technique from earlier in the week.
Mom’s lips thinned. “Don’t play that game with me.” Her expression softened. “How is Mallory?”
I raised an eyebrow. “How do you know there’s anything wrong with her?”
“Olivia saw you carrying her into the emergency room last night, and I know you know that because you said hello to her.”
“I did. I was wondering how you knew that.”
“Don’t be awkward, Cameron.”
I sat back in my chair. “She’s fine. She sprained her ankle playing mini golf. Aside from being in a lot of pain, she’s as sarcastic and dramatic as ever.”
“I do like that about her,” she mused, an almost dreamy look flashing in her eyes. “She reminds me a little of a younger me.”
God help me, then.
“Great. We all need another you.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Cut your sass. I want to know how she is, that’s all.”
“And I told you. Sore, but otherwise fine. Now, why else are you here?”
She sighed and adjusted her sitting position so she was sitting up straighter. “You were on a date.”
“Yep.”
“I didn’t expect you to admit it.”
“Why? Because we work together? Because she’s not one of your friends’ daughters?”
Mom waved her hand. “Please. I gave up on that venture after Victoria and how terrible that date went.”
Ah, the one where I’d called food poisoning from lunch and left.
“Well, four dates in two weeks was a little much, but I’m glad to hear it.”
“Have you considered all the ramifications of dating her? I’m not being awkward, Cameron, before you say so.” She held up one finger. “I was her once, but I’d known your father a lot longer than the two of you have known each other.”
“We’ve had one date, Mother,” I said. “We’re hardly talking about having children.”
“She stayed the night at your house.”
“Because she sprained her ankle and when I took her home, there was nobody there because her family had a night out. I couldn’t leave her alone, and it didn’t feel appropriate for me to stay.” I paused. “And not that I should have to justify this to you as someone who’s thirty next year, but we slept in different rooms.”
Mom sighed, slumping a little. “I like Mallory. I like her a lot, but don’t you think she’s a little…ditzy?”
“I don’t think. I know she is.” I grinned. “It’s just part of who she is.”
“Oh dear God, you’re already falling for her.”
I wiggled a pen at her. “I won’t deny it. I want to see where things go, assistant or not. If you spent more time with her that wasn’t on the phone demanding she come to some fancy-ass mixer, maybe you’d see what I see in her.”
“Maybe I’ll visit her at home. Bring her something to cheer her up.”
“Oh, wait. She just emailed me.”
“She’s working from home?”
“She insisted on doing the emails.” I scanned her email, then laughed.
She wanted to know who delivered her nachos last night so she could put them on speed dial.
“What’s so funny?”
“I ordered her nachos last night, and she wants the number to put on speed dial.” I typed back the number and told her I’d bring them with me tonight when I stopped by to check on her. Her aunt Grace had already said to me that under no uncertain terms I was to be the ultimate gentleman by getting her whatever she wanted since, in her worlds, the ankle was my fault for taking her to such a stupid place on a date.
At least her mom wasn’t yelling at me anymore. In fact, she just about loved me for taking such good care of her “baby.”
Man, it’d been fucking fun to see the look on Mallory’s face when she’d called her that.
“Where did you get nachos delivered?” Mom asked. “That’s a thing?”
“Yep. El Casa delivers them.”
“Did she like them?”
“Like them? She hit me when I tried to take one.”
Mom’s face brightened. “Excellent. I’ll go grab some now and take her some for lunch! That’ll cheer her up, and I can get to know her a little more. Since you’re dating.”
“Mom, that isn’t a—”
“Wonderful!” She clapped her hands and stood up.
“Mother, no, wait—”
“I do like nachos,” she hummed to herself as she left.
My eyes went wide. “Mother!” I got up and chased her down to the front door, but no, she’d already gone. She moved so fast and disappeared so easily she was like a magical creature. “Damn it.”
Amanda tilted her head to the side. “Was she muttering about nachos?”
I nodded, sighing.
“Huh. Can’t imagine her eating nachos.”
“She probably uses a fork,” I muttered, rubbing my temples and heading back to my office.
This was a nightmare.
CHAP
TER TWENTY-ONE – MALLORY
There was a knock on my bedroom door, and my mom poked her head around it. “Doing okay, sweetie?”
I looked up from my perch on my bed. My ankle was raised courtesy of three poofy pillows my mom had sourced from her never-ending cupboard of things, and I had my laptop on a tray in front of me so I could work.
I couldn’t lie here and do nothing while my ankle froze to death courtesy of two bags of peas.
“I’m fine. I’m hungry, though.” I wiggled. “Ugh, this is so annoying.”
Mom smiled. “You have a visitor.”
My stupid little heart skipped a beat at the thought that it was Cameron.
And then it sank when I saw his mom.
It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate her coming here, it was just that I knew it would be awkward. She was only here for one reason—she knew we’d been on a date.
I wasn’t sure how she’d feel about it.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about her being here while I was lying in bed, totally defenseless, with yesterday’s mascara on.
Mind you, I suppose a bag of frozen peas would be a pretty nifty weapon in a pinch…
“Cordelia. Hi.” I smiled. “What brings you here.”
“Well,” she said, stepping into the room with two boxes that smelled awfully familiar. “I stopped by to see Cameron, and he said you were feeling a little miserable, so I thought I’d get you some nachos and come and see how you were doing.”
Wait—nachos?
Okay. I take it back. I was happy she was here.
“I’ll leave you to it.” Mom smiled and left, pulling the door slightly closed.
“Sit down.” I waved to the desk chair. “Sorry, it’s not great. I wasn’t expecting company.”
She slid her gaze toward me with a coy smile. “Except Cameron.”
My cheeks flushed. “I was thinking of my best friend, but I guess he works.”
Cordelia laughed as I shut my laptop and put it to the side. She handed me one of the boxes. “I tried to get them to put some margaritas in take-out cups, but they were unfortunately reluctant.”
“You can’t get the staff these days,” I replied, trying to hide my surprise at her desire to get margaritas in a take-out cup.
That was a genius idea.
“Hey, I see your face. I can let loose like every other person.” She grimaced as she sat down. “I might not have done it for thirty years, but that was because, like you, I ended up with my ankle strapped when I’d done it—except it was a cast because I’d broken two bones.”
My jaw dropped. “What? Don’t tell me that you, Cordelia Reid, are a closet klutz.”
“Is that so surprising?” She raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow.
“Yes!” I blurted out. “I mean, no. I mean, oh shit.”
She laughed, putting her box on the desk. “I know. I’m put together. I’m uptight. I’m the epitome of the perfect hostess, no?”
“I wouldn’t say—”
“I would. Say it. It’s fine. It’s an image I’ve cultivated.” She opened her box and picked up a nacho coated in salsa. “Did you ever think you’d see me eating nachos?”
“I never thought I’d be eating anything but my words with you if I’m honest.”
Another pearly laugh escaped her. “I like you, Mallory. I think you’re a breath of fresh air.”
Well, this was going better than I’d expected. Even after she’d pulled out the nachos.
“Oh. Well, thank you. Your son thinks I’m a hurricane, so at least you’re complimenting me.”
She covered her mouth as she’d just taken a bite of chip. “Yes, his father told me about that. Apparently, he’d been muttering about Hurricane Mallory, and it only figured that was you. I don’t know any other Mallorys.”
“Lucky for whoever wasn’t named Mallory. It means unfortunate.”
“Then you’re aptly named, yes?”
My lips twitched at that. “I guess you could say it that way. So, Cordelia, tell me. How did you break your ankle?”
Laughing, she used a napkin to wipe sauce from her mouth and launched into the tale of trampolining gone wrong. Long story short, the safety net hadn’t been there, and she’d accidentally bounced right off, first hitting her ankle on the hard metal of the frame and jarring it before landing squarely on her left foot.
I couldn’t imagine Cordelia trampolining. Her hair was so perfectly in place, but the more stories she told me, the more I found myself liking her.
And I didn’t quite know how I felt about that.
She stayed for around an hour and a half before she left, saying she had a nail appointment.
When she’d gone, I sat in a daze.
Cameron’s mom had just brought me nachos, told me she’d broken her ankle because she’d also been clumsy, then left without mentioning our date.
I didn’t understand. I was totally confused about it, and the peas on my ankle were now completely defrosted.
I picked my phone from the nightstand and opened my text chain with Cameron.
Me: Is your mom sick?
I opened my laptop again while I waited for his reply. I’d been sure that Cordelia was about to tell me I couldn’t date Cameron. Or that she’d do what my mom did; point out all the reasons why it was an absolutely terrible idea that should burn in hell.
She hadn’t done either of those things. Why? She knew about the date. I was sure of it. Cameron had known someone at the hospital last night, which meant they probably knew his mom.
My phone buzzed as I opened my email.
Cameron: Why?
Me: She came over with nachos and told me stories about her life before she had you.
Cameron: She did… what?
Me: Yeah. She tried getting the restaurant to give her margaritas in a take-out cup but they refused.
Cameron: I don’t understand.
Me: I thought she was coming here to shout about our date.
Instead of replying by text, he called. I hit the green answer button, and he wasted no time at all diving into conversation.
“She came in here in a foul mood,” Cameron said without saying hi. “And asked me about everything. She did it in a total roundabout, fucked up way, but she asked me if I’d thought through dating you.”
“What did you say?”
“That we’d been on one date and we weren’t planning babies.”
I shuddered. “No, thank you. Well, she didn’t say anything about it to me.”
“That might be my fault,” he said hesitantly. “I told her that if she got to know you, she’d see you the way I see you.”
“Which is…”
“What?”
“How do you see me?” A total hot mess. A walking disaster.
“You’ll see.”
I could hear his smile from here. “No fair.”
“Life isn’t fair. So she didn’t go too hard on you?”
“No. She was almost like… my friend. It was weird. I’m not sure I liked it.”
He laughed. “Yeah, she has this soft side she lets out sometimes. I guess she really wanted to get to know you and let her guards down.”
“I guess she did. Does that mean she doesn’t mind us dating?”
“I don’t know. I also don’t know if we can really call it a date if it ended up in the emergency room.”
“A half-date?”
“Sounds about right. For what it’s worth, I’m taking all sports-related ideas off the table. Unless you can hike?”
“Oh, hey! There’s something I can do.” I paused and glanced at my foot. “Not right now, obviously, but hiking is about the only sport I’ve ever been able to do without breaking a bone.”
There was a slight pause from his end. “See, now you’ve said that…” he trailed off.
“Shut up,” I moaned. “This isn’t fair. I can’t go on dates to the movies for the rest of my life!”
“We can think of something.”
“What
about after you? When I marry you for your money and divorce you after we’ve had a baby to get child support?”
“Okay, first,” he said, not bothering to hide his laughter, “You’re so clumsy you’re going to need a nanny, and my affair with her is probably going to be why we divorce anyway.”
“Fair point.”
“And second, you’ll get custody because I’m a pig, so you won’t have time to date anyone.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Oh. So just because I get custody of our hypothetical children, I can’t date? You’ll have them at weekends, you know.”
“That’ll still give me three extra days to date.”
“Ugh. I might have to rethink the children.”
“Wise choice. They might get your inability to walk in heels and talent for knocking things over. I could never cope with two of you.”
“I couldn’t cope with two of me. Never mind you coping with two of me.” I laughed, leaning right back against my headboard.
A wave of happiness flowed through me. At this moment, he wasn’t my boss. He was just a guy I liked, and we weren’t thinking about a boss marrying his assistant, we were joking about a guy marrying a girl.
It made my heart happy.
Could hearts be happy?
That was such a weird phrase.
Hearts weren’t a clitoris. Now, a clitoris could be happy.
“Can I come by tonight? I promise to bring dinner,” Cameron said after a moment in a much softer voice.
“What dinner are you bringing?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. “And it’s not like I’m going anywhere, is it? I’m hardly going line dancing.”
“Can you line dance?”
“Not the point, Cameron.”
“I like it when you say my name.”
“Stop it, or I’ll pull out the Mr. Reid card.”
He barked a laugh. “Pull it and see what happens to you. Also, I’m bringing a salad.”
What?
“A salad? Who the fuck brings an invalid a salad?”
“An invalid? Is that what you are now? Jesus, settle down, Mrs. Shakespeare. Save some drama for somebody else.”
I covered my mouth with my hand to hide my laughter. “I’m a cripple! I can be dramatic.”
