by Kat Ransom
Her gorgeous, hazel eyes with flecks of gold and brown pierce me, “I can’t promise you that.”
“I will make you love me, Mallory. I will never give up. Trust that.” I will chase this woman across the earth if I need to. All the resolve and fight I used to have is back and every ounce it will be directed to this mission. This is the only race that matters anymore.
Thirty Two
Mallory
The first week I was back in New York I didn’t get to enjoy it much because everything was blowing up back in London. My phone never knew a moment of peace.
After we left the orchard outside Silverstone, I filled Lennox in on the whole story, from Sandra’s original request to stop outshining Digby, all the way through the stolen Hummer and how Max helped us. He laughed when I talked about Aria speeding us away like a total badass, calling us Thelma and Louise.
He held my hand the entire time and kissed the inside of my wrist every so often. I felt weak for letting him, but I couldn’t deny his comfort and strength putting me at ease. I felt his body tense up during certain parts of the saga, but he was silently supportive the entire time. The only thing he’d feed me was that it was over now and we would be ok, no matter what happens.
Aria and Jack called to update us as we drove and everyone agreed it would be best to avoid the track so we went straight to London. Digby had gone AWOL, the FIA launched a formal investigation into Celeritas and barred them from participation in any events until the matter was resolved. Lennox was subjected to a battery of drug tests as part of the immediate investigation but was cleared. He was hung up in London dealing with attorneys and fallout but went home to Scotland as soon as he could.
Saying goodbye to him in London was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Every cell in my body wanted to take him up on his offer and run away to the isolated coastline of the Isle of Skye. Move into that half-finished home and hide away with him forever. But my head was in no condition to make rational decisions and I wouldn’t be able to think clearly if I was around him. I wasn’t strong enough to resist him begging and telling me he loved me. And I know I will not survive him breaking my heart again.
He asked if he could call me and I asked him not to. I said that I would call if and when I want to talk to him. I need to figure out what I want.
Today, the start of my second week home, it’s the first day I’m moving on from everything. I’ve decided it’s time. As I walk into Angelo’s Pizza to meet Cody, I feel my appetite return at the smell of New York thin crust.
Cody jumps from his seat when he sees me and gives me a big bear hug. “My sister the felon,” he jokes. We didn’t get charged with stealing Digby’s car after all. I guess he had enough sense to not involve the police at the time. It’ll be a fun story to tell one day, I suppose.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I beam at my brother as I take my seat. Cody already has my favorite slice and a Diet Coke waiting at the table for me, though I’m considering switching to Diet Pepsi these days.
As I fold my slice up and relish the gooey greasy pizza, Cody fills me in on the Mitchell Dysfunctional Family Saga. The board at Mitchell Media is in the process of replacing dad, which Dad’s blaming me for. Cody says it’s been a long time coming and I’m just the handy scapegoat. My parents have not contacted me and I’ve made no attempt to contact them. I won’t say it’s been easy and I have guilt that may never go away, no matter how misguided it is. But I need to focus on me, not let my decisions be influenced by trying to live up to their expectations, nor trying to spite them. I’ve been guilty of both.
“So, you going to take the job at Cooper?” Cody asks as he wipes cheese off his chin.
“I haven’t decided yet. I have some cushion in the bank again and I want to be sure of what I do next. Max said the door is open and to take as long as I want.”
“No more firm?”
I sigh and think about my answer when I finish chewing. “I don’t know Cody. I don’t think I want to work with athletes in trouble anymore. My track record has not been so hot. And who would hire me after I ratted out an athlete with a drug problem? No one.”
“You loved it, though.”
“I loved sports and liked telling the athletes’ stories, but if I’m honest, when I got my journalism degree and went into social media, there was a big part of me that did it to defy mom and dad. Now, the thought of logging into my own social media accounts turns my stomach, much less someone else’s.”
Cody squints his eye at me and motions his hands that I should continue since his mouth is currently otherwise engaged with pepperoni.
“It’s all… bullshit. All of it. None of it is real. It’s like Mom with her snooty friends from the club. The only reason they go is to show off how wonderful their lives are. I don’t want to lie about people’s shitty lives so they feel less shitty and make other people feel more shitty in the process.”
“That’s a lot of shit,” he laughs.
I almost say the word ‘aye’ but catch myself.
“And Speed Racer?” Cody asks, lifting an eyebrow in question, using his nickname for Lennox. We should have been twins the creepy way he always knows what I’m thinking.
“I haven’t talked to him since I’ve been home.”
“He hasn’t called you?”
“I asked him not to,” I defend Lennox and realize I’m defending Lennox and now I’m confusing myself. “I just asked for some time.”
“How much time?”
“Now you sound like him, Cody. I don’t know how much time. Why?” I’m inexplicably frustrated with his question. I don’t want to be pressured into anything, one way or the other.
He shrugs, “Argumentative as always, I see. Just saying.”
I squint at Cody and spend the rest of our time catching up with that seed planted in my brain now. Am I being argumentative for the sake of it?
When I get home, Aria’s out with a client. I throw my keys on the kitchen counter and notice a box on top of the pile of mail. I recognize Lennox’s handwriting immediately but the return address verifies it. It was post-marked the day I left.
Is he sending me my shit back?
I take the box to the couch and pause for a moment before tearing it open. If it contains something I left at his house, I guess I’ll have my answer if there’s any hope for us.
There’s a folded note and a big metal tin of Twinings tea. What the hell is this? I open the note.
My Dear NILM (that’s Nanny I’d like to Marry),
I know you said no calling, but you did not say no writing. Negotiate better.
The first time I met you was in Britain so I’m sending you a reminder of that time. The queen buys her tea at this shop, so while that’s still not good enough for you, I hope you’ll enjoy it.
You are my queen.
I love you.
L xoxoxo
My hand covers my mouth which is hiding a huge grin. Negotiate better, oh that smart ass. This is sweet, I don’t remember the last time anyone sent me an actual gift in the mail. I only get bills and jury duty summons. But I’m not ready to talk to him and a box of tea doesn’t change what he did. I haven’t processed what Cody said and I’ve just dedicated this week to figuring out what I’m going to do with my life.
But, I also want to talk to him. I’ll text him. That’s not as dangerous. I won’t be able to hear that accent that makes me wobbly in the knees.
Mallory: The first time I met you, you started dirty talking to me about being put on a leash…
Lennox: Please come home and put me on a leash. I’ll go buy one right now.
Lennox: Also since you initiated, I am assuming it is ok to text you.
Mallory: Yes, as you’ve pointed out, I need to negotiate better.
Lennox: I love you.
Aria comes home and walks in on me smiling like a doofus with my package. She brought the mail in earlier so she must have known about it and has probably been waiting all day to find out
what was inside.
I hand her the note and she clutches her heart. “So, I’m not supposed to tell you, but chicks before dicks, right?”
“Tell me what, Aria?” My voice drops as I imagine the possibilities of what she’s been scheming now. After seeing her detective work and get-away driving, I’m a little frightened now of what she’s capable of.
“He’s kind of been texting me, a little bit,” she bites her lip and moves out of striking distance.
“What? About what?”
“Well, at first he just wanted to thank me for helping you and keeping you safe during Operation Destroy Digby. He said he heard I was a hell of a driver,” she giggles.
“And then what?” I yell, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this, Aria.”
“Umm, well, he’s sent gift cards to spas and restaurants and I’m supposed to take you out and help you relax, I think he used the word ‘pamper’ which is freaking adorable.”
“Oh my god, just give me your phone!”
“Ok, but I am sworn to secrecy,” Aria pulls her phone out of her purse and hands it to me after making me promise I won’t rat on her.
There aren’t many messages but they started the day I left London, again. He thanks her. He says he’s emailed her gift cards to all the places I ever talked about loving in New York. He says not to tell me because it’s about me taking care of myself and not about him getting credit for it. And one message saying he wants to get to know her better because getting to know my friends is important to him.
“I didn’t feed him any info about you,” Aria tells me. “I’m trying to remain impartial here but do you see this shit?” She waves to her phone and fans her chest.
“Wait, how did he get your number?” I ask her and ignore the fact that Aria, of all people, saw what condition I was in after Lennox broke my heart. Being charming and swoon-worthy was never Lennox’s problem.
“Oh, umm, the boys and I exchanged numbers after you ditched me at Silverstone. He must have gotten it from them,” she takes her phone back and puts it in her pocket suspiciously.
“Are you talking to them, too?” I gasp.
“No! No, we have not forgiven them yet, those naughty, naughty boys. I am definitely not talking to the hot Nordic Viking guy.”
“Oh my god,” I throw a couch pillow at her and we both laugh.
I missed her while I was gone.
◆◆◆
The next day, I get two packages. It must be the mail catching up from weekend delivery. I may, or may not, have been waiting for the mailman to appear after we used a gift certificate to a spa that Lennox sent. He can afford it and since he’s the cause of my shoulder tension, I didn’t argue when Aria insisted we go.
I take both packages to my bedroom and climb into bed to see what he’s done today.
There’s a small stuffed koala bear and, oh my god, one of the calendars from the charity photoshoot I made him do at the cat rescue. He’s on the cover shirtless with a cowboy hat and a kitten in each arm. I never got to see the finished calendar and I don’t know if I want to read his note first or look at more shirtless pictures of him. Why does he have to be so freaking hot? It does not help my resolve.
Love,
Do you know how hard it is to find a koala bear in Scotland?
In Australia, I knew you were different. For a moment in time, you made me forget everything that was wrong. It was the first time you rode in the car with me and you were checking me out the whole time. (You think I didn’t notice, I did.) I always noticed you. You’re impossible to miss. You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.
I love you.
L xoxoxoxo
Inside the next cardboard shipping box, a bigger one, is one of his grey tank top shirts, a black Carhartt jacket he wore when we were in Scotland, and a beautiful handmade fabric scroll with Arabic writing on it.
Hot Nanny, Love of My Life,
I know how you like to steal my clothes, so here is the shirt I was wearing when you creeped on me in the gym and sent me home with the worst blue balls I’ve ever had. The jacket is for the one I put on you in the garage in Bahrain (which you also stole) and is where you taught me about your family and I taught you about cars. In Bahrain, I also kissed you for the first time but you stole something from me. Please come home and reclaim it. It’s yours forever.
PS - I mean my heart. Also applies to other things, see aforementioned blue balls.
PSS - You’ll have to google the scroll.
PSSS - I now have fans waiting for autographs at the post office daily, but I persist.
I love you.
L xoxoxoxo
I text him again and realize I was looking forward to more mail deliveries because it gives me an excuse to text him. Sneaky…
Mallory: The clothes will come in handy since I burned your others.
Lennox: You burned my clothes?!
Mallory: The Talisker Distillery hoodie went up like kindling. There may have been wine involved.
Lennox: note to self: send only non-flammable gifts in the future
Lennox: [photo] which color do you like better?
Mallory: the one on the left, why?
Lennox: Kitchen paint. I’m working on finishing the house so you have a proper home. If you don’t want to live here though, we’ll sell it.
Mallory: Send more pics so I can see
Lennox: [photo]
Mallory: Not of your abs! The kitchen! lol
I called Lennox that night and we talked for hours until I fell asleep on the line to his deep voice and the accent I’ve missed so much. I didn’t realize until this morning that it was the middle of the night in Scotland when I called, he never mentioned it. He told me about all the house projects he and Pop are finishing, texted me a ton of photos. I told him about my parents and trying to figure out what I want to do for a living.
We agreed we didn’t want to talk about Celeritas, but he did say he’s not driving the rest of the season. Celeritas has been taken over by solicitors pending dismissal of most of the board and executives. He said he isn’t upset about it, but I have a hard time believing it. Projects around the house will only keep him entertained for so long.
He didn’t pressure me about anything, we just talked. It was nice.
I want him to be happy.
◆◆◆
This morning I finally Googled enough to find out what the scroll he sent me says: “Darling. Light of my life. I’m not gonna hurt you.” It’s a quote from The Shining, one of countless movies we watched curled up together. I laughed for a good half an hour and can’t imagine how much time he is spending on these silly, sweet mementos every day.
Most men would have sent flowers. He could afford to send expensive jewelry. But Lennox sent me horror movie quotes, memories from small moments we shared. He’d been paying attention.
Today’s package was small, a padded mailer with a thong that had “Mrs. Gibbes” ironed on and another sweet note, this one saying he wants me to be the real Mrs. Gibbes. I am both endlessly entertained and horrified wondering where he is getting these things at the little shops on the Isle of Skye. If I would log onto Instagram or Snapchat or Facebook I could probably find out. I would probably find photos of him asking some little old lady about getting a custom thong made.
But I’m blissfully disconnected from it all. I’d rather know the real him and spend my time in the real world. With real people. He was right about this, it’s too hard to see what’s real when you surround yourself with fake.
Late at night, an express mail package came, a brand new Talisker Distillery hoodie that he said he wore all day until the cut off time for overnight delivery and, of course, a joke about not lighting this one on fire. It smells like him.
Every day there are packages and notes. A little boat from Monaco, maple syrup from Canada, a Godzilla action figure from China, everywhere we’ve been he’s sent something with sweet and funny notes about loving me in those locations.
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br /> Every day we text and call at least twice per day. He still doesn’t pressure me. He ends every call telling me how much he misses me, loves me, and will never stop. But he doesn’t ask for an answer or make demands. It must be killing him not to be the one in charge.
Every day my heart heals.
Three weeks and some days since I’ve been home, I’m in bed in his tank top and we’re Skyping and watching the remake of IT together. Lennox is making jokes about catching glimpses of my side boob. Apparently side boob is the hottest thing ever, who knew.
“Be quiet and watch the movie,” I smile at his handsome face.
“Just sit here and look pretty, eh?” He jokes and throws a piece of popcorn at his laptop camera.
“Lennox Gibbes, are you eating popcorn?” I gasp with extra dramatic flair.
“Aye, extra butter,” he shoves a handful in his mouth.
“Matty is going to kill you,” I giggle.
“Ah but that’s another perk, I can eat now and Matty can’t do shit about it. By the time you come home, I’m going to be big and fat.”
Every so often, Lennox says things like this. Comments about when I come home. He finished our room today. We have a new cat who showed up outside and needed to get neutered. We need to buy a Tesla because they’re self-driving and I can’t kill myself or anyone else while driving it.
“I know what you’re doing,” I purse my lips and smirk at him.
“Getting fat?”
“Sneaking in subliminal comments about when I’m coming home. You’re not that clever.”
