Switch (Landry Family 3)

“Are you cheating on me?” Lincoln asks, grabbing Hux by the arm and giving him a quick hug. “How are you, buddy?”

“Good. Hey, I heard you were having a baby. I was thinking. If you want to name your kid after me, I’m okay with that.”

“I’ll pass that along to the boss,” Lincoln laughs.

“All right, guys, I need to get back to the office. Ford, I’ll get that final insurance paper faxed back before the end of the week. As soon as that’s in place, I think we’re good to go.”

“Thanks.”

“Now go get some puuuu. . . . Puppies,” Lincoln chokes, looking at Hux. “Puppies. Go buy yourself a new puppy, Graham.”

We all laugh, Huxley looking confused, as I walk out of the Farm.

Graham

MALLORY’S SEAT IS VACANT WHEN I enter our suite at Landry Holdings. Her phone and keys are in a clump on her desk, wrappers from some kind of candy in a heap by her keyboard.

I can’t resist. Picking them up and tossing them in the garbage, I head to my office. Door left open.

I try to focus on the contract in front of me, but every time I hear a sound, I look up to see if it’s Mallory. It’s some Pavlovian dog bullshit and I hate I’m to this point with her.

Mulling over my brothers’ words on the way over here, I know they’re right. This is going to end one way or the other. It always does. It’s the natural progression of things.

Mallory deserves more than this. She should have the world, someone she can love and mean it. She needs a relationship in which she can fall in love like Alison or Danielle and be safe in it. Besides, I couldn’t watch her decide she loves me, then realize she doesn’t. I wouldn’t survive that.

I’ve avoided her today. She’s avoided me too. Getting to the end of this might be easier, and less of my decision, than I thought. That should afford me some relief. Instead, it just winds up my anxiety even worse.

She comes in the suite. Cellophane crinkles through the air and I laugh. She’s such a fucking mess.

“Hey,” she says, poking her head around the door. “I’m going to take off, okay?”

“Is it five already?” I ask, looking at the clock.

“It’s five-thirty, actually. I stayed over to finish up something for your father.”

“Really? I didn’t know anything about that.”

“It’s no big deal,” she says, waving me off. “But I do need to get going.”

“Do you have plans?”

“I have yoga.” She steps inside my office and I almost choke. Skin-tight pants are stretched over her curves while a white shirt hugs her top. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I say, wheezing. Clearing my throat, I imagine her at dinner with Keenan. “Could I ask a favor of you?”

“Sure. I wanted to talk to you anyway,” she says, pulling her eyes away from mine.

My stomach fills with dread. Heavy, foul, infuriating trepidation. “What about? You can come in, if you’d like.”

She considers it for a good bit before taking the steps to the chair across from me. “After today, Ford’s company will be good to go for the most part. I’m just waiting for you to sign the insurance paper and then I’ll get it faxed back.”

I scoot a sheet of paper across the desk. “I signed it. It’s done. I’ll fax it though. It has to get there by six or the offer is void and we’ll have to start from scratch again.”

“I’ll send it,” she says.

“It has to be there before you leave. If not, we won’t be guaranteed that rate and we need that rate to hit budget.”

“Don’t you trust me?” she grins, taking the paper.