Where We Left Off (28 page)

“You were busy with your meal and I was on the clock, I guess.” I shrugged my shoulders, then finally asked the question that had been on my mind for so long. “Hey, do you mind telling me what Tuesdays at this diner meant to you?”

“Tuesdays?” She rolled the melting ice cream on her tongue, talking around the soft texture.

“Yeah, it sorta seemed like you had a routine.”

“Oh.” Then, looking a little embarrassed, Mallory grabbed the sundae back and drew another heaping spoonful to her lips. She took a moment to let the sting of cold subside, then swallowed, and began talking. “So my mom and I came here to eat once. I was six. She told me I could order anything on the menu—or off the menu, for that matter. So I did. Grilled cheese with mayo. Barbecue chips. Pickle and a lemonade without ice. The whole time I was reciting my order to the waiter, she smiled at me and it was the sweetest smile. She looked so pretty, even though her illness had taken the extra weight from her bones and hair from her head. When she handed the waiter her menu, she said, ‘Make that two.’” Mallory was looking down at the ice cream like she could see the memory playing out in the melting scoops. “I’d asked her why she ordered the same thing and she told me she wanted our meal to be shared completely. We even ate it the same, really playing together. My mom knew how to make me feel special, even though she must’ve been breaking inside. She made me feel so loved in that moment, and not scared. It was a silly memory, but such a good one.”

While she’d been talking, I reached my hand across the table and took
hold
of Mallory’s free one.

“That was our last good meal together. She got really sick after that. I think she knew it would be her final real dinner with me and that’s why she wanted to make it so memorable. It was on a Tuesday. She died the following Tuesday.”

I was about to say how sorry I was, but Mallory looked up with tear-filled eyes and the softest smile on her lips.

“That’s a good memory.”

She lifted with a laugh. “Not very good food, though. Grilled cheese with mayo is not the best. But it made me think of her each time I came here and ate it. I was so young when she died. The memories that people tell you over the years, sometimes you don’t know if they are actually your
memories
or just stories that have become real in your mind because you keep hearing them. But this,” she said, glancing around the room from our corner booth. “This was real. This was something I remembered experiencing with her. I wanted to hang on to that forever.”

“That’s beautiful, Mallory.”

She passed the sundae back to me and I took a bite. “It really is. I wish Corbin had memories and not just stories, but hey, want can you do?”

Had we not been in the diner, I would’ve hauled her into my arms to comfort and hold her. But comforting sometimes came in the listening moments. In the times when you offered your ear and your heart. I could tell it was good for Mallory to talk about these things and I was honored she wanted to share that with me.

“Okay, so I have another question.”

Bringing a napkin to her lips, she swept it across her mouth. “Go for it.”

“I know I have a lot of them, so you can tell me to stop
prying
.”

“You’re not prying, Heath. I’m doing life with you. You deserve to know anything you want.”

That phrase hit me straight in my chest. I warmed all over at her words. I took a moment to compose myself before asking, “Tommy. Why do you call him Tommy instead of Dad?”

“Oh, hmm.” She thought on it a moment before delivering her answer. “When he had the first stroke, we really had no idea what his mental state was. They said there was quite a bit of brain damage. For the most part, he was pretty unresponsive. Confused. It seemed as though he was off in another world more than he was present with us. The doctors suggested we call him by his name so he wouldn’t be confused about his roles, or even feel pressured to have one. They just wanted him to work on regaining his strength, both mental and physical. I’m not sure how sound that advice was, but it made sense at the time.”

“He knows you’re his daughter, Mallory.”

“I know that.” She shrugged. “Part of me
thinks—or at least
hopes—he always has. But life hasn’t been easy for him, and if I could make it easier by taking the strain of expectation off, then that was a simple sacrifice. I don’t know. The name Tommy just means Dad to me, anyway, so I suppose it’s all the same.”

“Sacrifices are rarely simple.”

She laughed again. “Yeah, I guess that’s true, too. I don’t know.” She looked out the window, her eyes vacant with reminiscence before they refocused my way. “Any other questions? I’m serious, I’m happy to answer them.”

I had one, a huge one, but it would have to wait. “Nope. That’s it for now.”

Waiting was something I was good at when it came to Mallory.

Mallory

“So, how’s lover boy?”

Vickie swatted my shoulder with a bundle of daisies as she sidled past. I hunkered down on the stool and dedicated my attention to the bouquet in front of me, the first official one I was putting together for an actual, paying client. I’d rearranged it many times already, but was finally content with the current grouping.

“We’re not—” I stopped short, realizing Lucas was within earshot. “He’s not … It’s not like that.”

“Oh, please.” Vickie’s tone became hushed. “We’re both grown-ups here. You don’t travel all the way across the
country
with someone and not spend a little time in the sack. Am I right?” Like we were two boys in a locker room, Vickie jabbed me in the ribs with her elbow.

“In this case, you’re not right. We’re taking things slow.”

“You mean going in reverse.”

“I mean … it’s complicated.”

I’d revealed something incredibly telling with that statement, it
seemed,
because Vickie’s eyes rounded and her head bobbed in understanding. “He’s impotent!” she whisper-yelled.

“No!” It was my turn to smack her with a bunch of roses. “Oops! Sorry. Thorns.”

Vickie rubbed at her arm. “Whatever works for the two of you. I’m just happy that you’ve found some happiness. You and Corbin deserve it.”

I had found my happiness. Our happiness.

And my happiness happened to be walking right through the doors of the shop at that very moment.

“Sir.” Lucas tipped his head to Heath.

“Afternoon, Lucas. Mallory here?” And then he caught my eyes above the flowers that impeded my view. “Oh, hey.” With two palms flattened to the metal countertop, Heath leaned over and dropped his full lips to mine. “There you are.”

My body tingled, a bit from his gesture and a little from the fact that we had an audience.

“Here I am.” I smiled and scooted back from the table, then reached
under
it to grab my purse. I flung the bag over my shoulder. “It okay if I take my lunch now?” I looked at Vickie. “I’ll go wake Corbin.”

She halted me with her hand firmly placed on my shoulder. “Do not—on my watch—ever, ever wake a sleeping baby. You most certainly will not go near that break room. You will leave your little guy here and enjoy your lunch date.”

“That’s not necessary, Vickie.” I grimaced and felt thickness swell in my throat, guilty that I was always taking advantage of her good nature. She offered it so freely.

“I know it’s not necessary. Not another word. Off you go.”

I’d repay her somehow. For now, I just gave her a brief squeeze and followed Heath out the door. The afternoon sun burned intensely in the sky and I retrieved my sunglasses from my bag, lifting them to my face. I grabbed Heath’s hand. The way our fingers fit together felt like slipping into a favorite pair of blue jeans or cozy sweater.

“Sushi sound good?”

“Always.” We had found our preferred little spots around town and frequented them often. It was a three-block walk to Atomic Fish and we were promptly seated in the back of the restaurant, at our favorite table. I didn’t need to glance at the menu, and neither did Heath. We had our order readied for our waiter and once he left, Heath looked at me, a seriousness contained in his strong brow.

“Everything okay?”

He pursed his lips as though to speak, and then shook it off. “Yep.” Then he smiled, but only
one-half
of his mouth arched upward and it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

I wasn’t convinced. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

It took half of our lunch for the discomfort to ease from our interactions. This was a first for us. From the first moment we saw one another, we’d reconnected in a way that was surreal. And maybe it was. Maybe this was as far as our fairytale would take us. At some point, we had to wise up and face reality.

It felt like my reality, though, to love Heath again.

As the waiter brought our check, I studied the man across from me. He was uncharacteristically silent. Where he’d usually have a quip or witty interjection, he held his tongue and ate without a word. I racked my brain and tried to call to memory anything I could have done or said to bring this about. What could have drawn in the rocky waves where we’d once had still and calm waters?

“You’re making me nervous, Heathcliff McBride.”

That got the faintest of smiles from his worried mouth. “Ah, my full name. I must be in big trouble.” It was the first joke—albeit a small one—and I latched onto it and sucked every bit of confidence I could from it.

“Huge trouble. I might have to punish you later.”

Not even a twitch of a smile.

“Okay, what’s up? This isn’t like you. You can tell me you’re fine until you’re blue in the face, but I’m calling your bluff.”

I thought his face was truly going to turn blue with the breath he pent up in his chest. He blew it out too forcefully. Dragged his hand through his cropped hair. Looked everywhere in the room but at my eyes, and I wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him silly.

“Your dad sent me something.”

That was not what I expected. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think you should see it.” The words were flat and monotone. Heath wasn’t allowing any room for interpretation here. “Can you come by tonight? Seven o’clock?”

“Sure let me call Sharon and Boone and see if they can watch Corbin—”

“Bring Corbin.” He brought his palms against the
ledge
of the table and backed his chair up. Looking down after he stood, he muttered, “It won’t take long.”

The one thing I’d anticipated about today—the delivery of my first bouquet—didn’t even register on my radar anymore. Lucas probably dropped it off and the recipient probably liked it, but I didn’t care.

All my available emotions were allotted to Heath and his cryptic words and our uncomfortable lunch. It was the stutter in our relationship, this awkward interaction of ours. I should’ve expected it sooner or later, but I assumed it wasn’t coming for us. We were easy together. So easy. I loved that the most.

Even when I’d said things were complicated, it was always the things surrounding us, never us. The emotions of divorce. The grief involved in
death
. Parenthood. Employment. The things that complicated what we had were common, normal, outside complications.

Today was not normal.

I had no idea how to prepare. Had there been an entire department store’s worth of clothing crammed into my closet, I still wouldn’t have been able to find something suitable to wear. What did one wear for a breakup? Did you dress in your finest in a last ditch attempt to flaunt what was being given up? Or did you wear your most comfortable clothes so you could make the seamless transition from being dumped to lounging on the couch with a half-eaten box of chocolates and a full tub of ice cream, no need for a wardrobe change.

I opted for something right in the middle. The peach silk tank hung low at my neckline and I knew Heath would like it because he loved my neck. Always talked about how it was the only thing he caught a glimpse of the day I fell off my bike and landed on the pavement. I had a nice neck, I supposed, with thin collarbones and enough cleavage that I felt womanly, but not so much that I needed a sports bra for daily activities. My favorite jeans were slung on my hips and I pushed my gray leather flip-flops onto my feet. My toes needed a pedicure, but I knew he wouldn’t notice.