Switch (Landry Family 3)

Her face falls and I feel like a complete motherfucking asshole. I didn’t see the shit I was stepping in, just explaining myself like I would to anyone. Except, she’s not just anyone. I don’t know who she is, but if I said she wasn’t any different than Barrett or Linda, I’d be a liar.

Although the next words are the complete opposite things I need to be saying, they’re falling out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Let’s go to dinner.”

She shoots me a look that tells me just how confused she is. “What?”

“We worked our asses off today. Let’s go get some nourishment.”

“Graham . . .”

“You said we both need balance,” I point out, straightening my jacket back out as I stand. “Let’s get some dinner and some cake to offset the bullshit that happened in here today.”

Her eyes light up and it calms the anxiety building over my inability to think before I speak around her. Still, she doesn’t answer.

“Come on,” I goad, flicking off my computer and holding my hand out to her. “Let me take you to dinner.”

“I only go to dinner with men that take me to places with real forks,” she teases.

“I don’t think forks are your problem,” I say, feeling her soft palm rest in mine. “I think finding real men may be your issue.”

She shoves me with her free hand, and I find myself laughing out loud as we exit the office.

Graham

“CAN YOU BELIEVE I’VE NEVER been here?” Mallory looks at me with wide eyes as we near the entrance of Dalicon. “I almost forget it’s even here. It’s just tucked back here so neatly.”

“This is one of my favorite places in Savannah,” I tell her. I give my name to the hostess and she whisks us through the restaurant. With the large, wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling and warm walls set off with dark floors, it’s a very relaxed place. The burnt orange paper lanterns and wall art give it a slight air of sophistication that I love.

Once we are settled into a little table in the corner and have ordered wine, Mallory seems to relax. “This is stunning. I just want to look around and that says something—I always want to eat!” she laughs.

“Soda and protein bars?”

“No,” she says, but stops when the waiter appears at our side. He starts to hand her a glass. As he does, he’s bumped from behind and a splash of wine lands in Mallory’s lap.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, resting the serving try on a vacant table and rushing to Mallory’s side. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Here, let me get you something.”

As I start to extend a hand with my linen napkin, I’m stopped by her laugh. “Please,” she gushes to the waiter. “It was an accident. It’s no problem, really.”

“But, madam, I am so sorry. I should be more careful. I’ve just ruined your dress.”

“Please . . . Donnie,” she says, eyeing his nametag. “It’s really no big deal. It’ll clean. And if it doesn’t, it’s a dress. I’ll survive.”

“Are you sure? Absolutely sure?” he asks, stunned. “Can I at least get you an appetizer? Let me do something.”

I tune out, unable to really focus on anything but the pure kindness in her eyes. Before long, she has him laughing along with her and I’m speechless.

“Sir? What can I get you?” Donnie asks.

Shaking my head, I indicate off the menu what I want and once he’s gone, I smile at Mallory. “That was pretty fantastic.”

“What?” she asks, dabbling the wet spot with a napkin, completely oblivious to what I’m referring.

“How you handled that.”

“How was I supposed to handle it?” she asks, resting the linen next to her plate.

“Most women would’ve freaked out over that. You were worried about Donnie boy.”

She takes a sip of her wine. “Accidents happen. God knows I’ve had my fair share. You heard the story I was telling him about the time I dumped an entire tray of margaritas in someone’s lap. You just have to let some stuff go. Or maybe you just realize that once you’ve been in their shoes.”