“Oh, I will. I’ll consider it a gift to humanity.”
“You’re such an ass,” she says, smacking my chest. I catch her hand and pull her to me. It’s automatic, such a natural move that it catches us both off-guard. “There are probably cameras out here, Mr. Landry.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That means I know that look in your eye.”
“You’re safe,” I sigh. “I can’t throw you on the console of your car. I’m afraid your face would get stuck in syrup or something.”
She rolls her eyes and climbs inside. “I’m going to be late to class. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I close the door behind her and step away so she can pull out. She gives me a little wave and a beep of the horn as she drives, entirely too fast, out of the garage.
As her taillights get farther away, a sense of loneliness begins to filter my way. There’s no longer the smell of lavender, the sound of her making fun of me, or the twinkle in her eye that makes me want to ask her a question so she’ll talk to me.
Tension stretches across my shoulders, tugging my muscles tight. With the stiffness comes a pulsing sensation behind my left eye, indicating that I’m on the cusp of one hell of a headache.
Everything is out of order. The pieces of my life are strewn around worse than the contents on her floorboard, and I can’t shuffle them back in place fast enough. My desk is still loaded with papers, Lincoln’s refusal to be sane, and Ford’s security company to deal with. Typically, I wait for this moment—everyone gone, everything quiet, and I can really dig in. Now I can’t because I have another, potentially worse issue at hand: I need Mallory around as badly as I need to put distance between us.
The pull coming harder in my temple, I head to the elevator and press the button. While I wait, I type out a text.
Me: Thank you for asking me to be your best man in such a brotherly way.
Lincoln: Don’t kid either of us. You love that I picked you over Barrett and Ford.
Me: Well, it only makes sense to pick me.
Lincoln: How do you
figure?
Me: I’m the one settling in to spend the evening getting a plan together to save your ass in case everything goes south.
Lincoln: Do me a favor?
Me: What, Linc?
Lincoln: Get a drink. Because as wound up as you get, you’ll be dead before I’d need you to implement that plan and then I’d really be fucked.
Me: Always about you, isn’t it?
Lincoln: Hell, yeah. Oh—Ford said you got it on in the middle of a meeting today. Can I say I’m super proud of you?
Me: Talk to you later.
Lincoln: Wait! You can’t jump my ass and then ignore me. This is the day Graham proves he’s human. Let’s discuss. Should I grab some pizza and meet you at the office?
Laughing, I turn my phone off and slip it in my jacket. I step in the elevator and head to my office, hopefully to work and not to think about Mallory.
Mallory
“There you are!” Joy chirps.
I hurry inside the yoga studio and toss my things against the wall. Tonight’s class, thankfully, is one of the smaller ones and no one is early.
“I was thinking you weren’t coming,” Joy remarks. “You said you were on your way forty minutes ago.”
“I . . .” I plop on the mat and look at my friend. “Does it really matter what made me late?”