Catastrophe Queen

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.”