Where We Left Off (22 page)

“I want all your boring details.” She laughed, then her gaze diverted to the floor when she said, “It’s kinda what my life has become lately.”

That truth was too melancholy so I didn’t let us pause and instead started right in. “Well, as you know, I moved to California when my dad got that promotion as chief.” I waited for the recognition on her face and when I didn’t get it, I kept rolling. “Went to Sacramento State for undergrad. Met a girl. Got married out of college. Got my credential. Got a job as an English teacher. Got my masters. Got a divorce. Got an apartment with my buddy. Got the courage to text an old friend.” I tipped my coffee cup toward her. “Got a delicious cup of Joe.”

“That’s definitely the condensed version. I have a feeling you left out a whole lot there.”

“Maybe.” My shoulders shrugged to my ears. “Maybe not.” I took another slow and appreciative sip. “Damn, that’s one good Americano.”

“The best.”

There was something between us. Not really tension, but some barrier that kept all we want to say back. A protective layer we were shielded behind. That was natural, of course. It wasn’t realistic to expect vulnerability after so long, but I wanted it. God, did I want it. From her, and out of me. I wanted to be vulnerable again, more than I’d ever realized.

“So, tell me about your life, Mallory.” I knew I’d need to encourage this out, coax her story from her. “How on earth did you end up in California of all places, after all these years?”

“Dylan had an opportunity to transfer two years back. He’s got family out here.” She caught herself. “I mean, he had family out here. Well, his family is still here. It’s just … he isn’t. He died last year.”

That was not the condensed version. That was a freaking novel right there, exposed in her words, her demeanor, her nerves that fidgeted out of her.

“I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes misted. She sniffed lightly and wiped her nose with a brown paper napkin that had a wet ring in the center left
from
her drink. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, but you can say that if you like.”

“Ha!” She sniffed again, kind of snorting with a laugh. “You’re right, it’s not. But so goes life, huh?”

“I suppose.” I studied her until she caught my gaze. It didn’t throw her off. Her eyes crinkled behind another smile that got even bigger when I asked, “So you have a son, huh?”

All pretense sloughed off, melting the opaque and secretive layers she tried unsuccessfully to wear, leaving her transparent with the obvious emotion and affection she held for her child. Mallory slid deeper into her seat and the cushions surrounded her small body. “I do have a son. Corbin. He’s the absolute love of my life.”

“Tell me about him.”

“Really?” Her cup stopped short as she brought it to her lips.

“Yes. Of course. What’s it like being a parent?”

“In a nutshell, it’s letting someone else carry around your heart, outside of your body.”

At that moment, a young, hipster-looking couple
shuffled past
and bumped Mallory’s elbow as they walked to an empty table behind her. Her cup jostled with the movement and brown liquid splashed out onto her floral skirt, but she offered the same, honest grin when they apologized, to the point of profusion. I swore I could watch her interactions all day long. She was so genuine it was nearly alarming.

I handed her my extra napkin. “If that’s the case, parenthood sounds amazing.”

“I’m pretty sure I plagiarized that from a greeting card, but it sums it up for me, at least.”

“And Dylan?” His name was different coming from my mouth than I’d expected. I figured it would be tinged with
jealousy
, but it just wasn’t there. “Did he love being a dad?”

“He never got the opportunity.”

“God, Mallory. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” She stopped me before I could properly wallow. “Dylan died when I was three months pregnant. The day before he passed, we had our appointment to hear the heartbeat. I’m forever grateful he got to experience that. It’s sort of silly, but in a way it feels like he got to meet Corbin.”

“There’s nothing silly about that. It’s actually really beautiful.”

Her tears were spilling and she didn’t try to
blot
them away anymore. “It kinda is, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

Our gaze stayed locked for so long I wondered who would break first. Only when the door chimed as another patron entered the coffee shop did we allow our gazes to fall elsewhere.

“I might be saying too much, but this is
really
, really nice, Heath. I’ve missed you.”

“Mallory—”

“I mean, I know we were just kids, but what we had
was
real, wasn’t it?”

“It was real,” I said quickly. “For me, it’s always been real.”

Mallory seemed satisfied with my answer and the content expression on her face proved it. We were wordless for a while more and it felt right and appropriate so I let the silence stay.

“How long have you been alone?”

“Oh.” I jolted. My eyebrows raised to my hairline as I asked, “You want to go
that
complicated tonight?”

“Complicated is all there is anymore. We’re adults.”

“Unfortunately, I think you’re right about that,” I agreed. “Well, Kayla left me about six months ago. Legally, at least. She’d left long before that.”

“I can’t imagine how awful that must’ve been.” From across the gap of space, she extended a hand and it fell softly on my knee. A fiery heat licked across my cheeks and my heart forgot a few beats, but I loved how all that felt deep inside. I wanted her to keep her hand there forever.

“I think you must know exactly how it feels, having lost your own husband.”

She pulled her hand back, but not in recoil. “I didn’t lose Dylan’s love, just Dylan. There’s a difference. He never stopped loving me, he just
couldn’t
love me anymore.”

I wanted to tell her that I never stopped loving her, either, because I got the sense she thought I had, that she could relate to losing love in that way.

I didn’t say it, though. I let the elephant hang out in our room a little bit longer.

“I’m sorry your wife left, Heath.” Her coffee was drained but she swished the empty cup in her hands, the dark residue pooling in the bottom of the mug. “Are you at least still friends?”

Bitter liquid burned my throat. I had to clear it with a cough, then I settled my drink onto the side table next to me. I looked directly at Mallory. “Is it ever possible to remain friends when someone breaks your heart?”

Her lips pursed. She nodded slowly like she understood what I was implying, but I wasn’t sure what I was saying, or why I’d said it. It was just something that had to come out. “I hope it is.”

“I do too, Mallory.” I hid behind my cup as I said again, “I really do.”

Mallory

“Why does the water have to be this cold?”

My fingers were prunes, all puckered and lined. This was the normal state of them lately, and it had never bothered me before, but now, with the potential for someone to actually hold my hand, I suddenly wanted to avoid old lady wrinkled skin at all costs.

“You ever see flowers in a pot of boiling water?” Vickie slipped another piece of greenery into the rose bouquet but, unhappy with its placement, she plucked it from the vase just as quickly and threw it to the counter. She curled fingers over the edge of the table. “You get used to the chill. I don’t even notice it anymore. Must have ice water running in these veins.”

Over the last week, I’d come to genuinely look forward to my days at the shop. Vickie turned into an instant friend and confidante. Along with that—as if it weren’t enough—she’d transformed the break room into an unofficial day care center. The moment she’d found out I was a single mother with a little one to care for at home, she’d insisted that Corbin accompany me to work. I’d refused her offer for a solid two hours until her offer was no longer an offer, but had become a genuine demand. She could not, in good conscience, allow me to leave my baby behind when there was a perfectly good crib, playpen, and changing table on the premise.

The thing was, there weren’t any of those things. At least, not until after I’d returned from my lunch break that afternoon, only to discover the small room in the back of the building remodeled to comfortably welcome the stay of a young child.

The word
no
did not belong in Vickie’s vocabulary; she just wouldn’t allow her ears to register its meaning. I’d recently learned to allow others the opportunity for generosity. That was a game changer. There was no sense in being stubborn for the sake of politeness when the polite thing was to let others extend a generous hand if they so desired. Sometimes we needed to give. Sometimes we needed to receive. This was the sort of give and take that made the world go round.

“So, tell me about Heath.” I couldn’t see Vickie over the foliage she now stuffed into a hollowed out birch log, but something in her tone gave away a playful expression. “Other than the fact that he’s drop-dead gorgeous.”

“Vickie!” I squawked. “He’s just a friend.”

“Oh, sure he is. I saw the friendly way he looked at you yesterday when he came by. That is one absolutely lovesick man.”

There was no color in my face. All blood drained from my cheeks and I could feel it leave, the plug pulled. “Honestly, he’s an old friend. We’ve only recently reconnected.”

Vickie’s penciled eyebrows sprang up. “Just
how
much have you reconnected?”

“Would you stop?” I swatted her arm as I headed toward the glass case and to place our three most recent arrangements on display. As I was sauntering back to the counter, I bumped into Lucas, my shoulder smacking against his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Quinn!” He was apologetic and flustered, a typical state for him. “I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s no biggie, Lucas. I wasn’t watching where I was going, either.”

“No, she was too busy daydreaming about her long, lost lover!”

“Vickie!” She was relentless with the teasing, though I wasn’t actually bothered by it. I’d become a giddy schoolgirl and the butterflies that tagged along weren’t unwelcome.

Heath and I had been texting all week since the recital, with the occasional phone call in between. Hours ticked down along with daylight and conversation filled the dark moments of night, ones which usually held sleep and dreams. There was never any shortage of topic or story. In fact, he’d just texted me a half hour earlier and my fingers were eager to reply, but I’d planned to wait until my break to respond. There was an anticipation present that birthed a few more butterflies, and I liked having them around.

“That is really bizarre,” Lucas said as he placed a cardboard box on the counter. “My English teacher just reconnected with an old high school girlfriend. Must be something in the water.”

“Mallory? What is Heath’s last name?” Vickie asked, her wheels spinning.

“McBride.”

In choreographed unison, Vickie and Lucas’s mouths popped open.

“Someone’s hot for teacher!”

“Mom!”

“I can’t believe you’re in love with Lucas’s teacher! This is too perfect!”

“I’m not in love with him.” This conversation was slipping from me. “I mean, I used to be, but that was a long time ago.”

Lucas brought another large package from the back room and deposited it next to the other. “I’m not sure it was so long ago for Mr. McBride, the way he talks about it.”

“He talks about it? I mean, about me?”

“Yeah. Just yesterday he was asking the class what the latest baby trends were. Not completely sure why he thought we’d have any idea. Maybe because we’re closer in age or something? I don’t know.”

“Has he met Corbin yet?” Vickie’s voice lifted more octaves than should’ve been possible. “Oh my gosh, when is he meeting Corbin?”

“Tonight. They’re meeting tonight.”

With her hands clasped to her chest, Vickie swooned, her eyes closed shut. “This love story keeps getting better and better!”

I smiled, albeit hesitantly, hoping she was right.

He wouldn’t remember this. Of course, he wouldn’t. Memories began much too late in life. My first was from when I was five years old and I’d fractured my arm when I took a hard spill
off
the swing at the neighborhood park. First formed memories always seemed to be of the tragic kind.