Chapter 9
Mallory
My red dress is stained with wine, luckily it happens to be a close shade of red. Another date ruined by my clumsy hands. Though, to be fair, Jake and Charlotte surprised me. I didn’t expect to react that way, as if I had been doing something wrong and had been caught.
I drop my dress off at the dry cleaners on Main Street before I head to the first activity of my day, glass blowing.
I’m nervous. My stomach feels like I ate a bunch of cement.
But I can’t tell if it’s my nerves about attempting a brand-new artsy activity or about seeing Jake.
My pocket buzzes and I pull out my phone.
I had filled in Lucy and Selena the day after I slept with Jake.
They tried to help me with how to move forward.
A guy tells you he’s falling for you, but those words carry more weight when he has a child and a life built here. You can’t rip a kid from their home and move them to Canada. So I went with the best choice, I chose to do nothing.
Lucy: Are you going out with the boring tax guy again?
Selena: Yeah, what about that hot single dad you already slept with? Maybe spend more time with him…in bed.
Mallory: Todd works in finance. He’s not an accountant…I think. He was dull. All I can think about is Jake.
Lucy: Why don’t you stay in Montana longer? See what happens. If you’re not working you don’t need a VISA. We can water your plants.
Selena: Risk it for love, Babe!
Mallory: He has a kid. What if it didn’t work out?
Selena: What if it does?
Lucy: High risk, high reward.
Mallory: You two are not helping. I’m not moving to Montana. I don’t have a job and I just found an apartment. My life is still a mess. I can’t just join Jake here. Like we’re some sort of impromptu family.
Selena: Loverboy probably wouldn’t mind if you just moved in.
Lucy: You know all those big burly alpha men are secretly saps underneath the muscle. I bet he’s head over heels.
Selena: Because you’re fantastic. And worth the risk.
Mallory: I’m late for glass blowing. GTG
Lucy: Bet you wish you were blowing him *winky face*
Selena: Yeah, she does!
I chuckle and tuck my phone away. I should’ve before they replied, but I’m glad I read the last two texts.
Friends are there for you through thick and thin.
Through sixty-hour work weeks, apartment hunting in the snow, and even driving you to the airport for a flight at five in the morning. How could I leave them behind?
Glass blowing turns out to be more of a demonstration than a participation event.
We don’t get to do much. But I do chat with a few other singles who traveled here for the festival.
Talking to them makes me a little more excited for the big finale ball on Valentine’s Day this Friday.
Just a couple more days to try and test the waters and see who I’m compatible with to try another first date.
Are they always so awkward? Tod and I had nothing major in common.
The date with Jake was easy, effortless.
I make my way to the bakery. My tense shoulders instantly relax when I walk through the doors and the aromas of spice laden desserts and fresh baked bread hits my nose. I look around and don’t see Charlotte. I’m right on time.
Dylan comes from the back with Charlotte following close by. She runs to me with a goofy grin on her face. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she has an apron clutched in her small hands.
“Jake got his bike stuck so I brought Charlotte over.”
“Thanks, we’re off then.” I wave to Dylan and he stops me.
“I haven’t seen Jake like this before Mallory, tread carefully.” He looks down at Charlotte then back to me, “for both of them.”
“Of course.” He nods then turns to head to the back again. “Alright Charlotte, let’s go paint.”
The two of us walk down the street and over a block to the community center.
I learned that it used to be an old elementary school but when the town expanded, they built a bigger school and renovated the old one for community needs.
Which include a huge portion of the events and classes for the festival.
Whatever isn’t outdoors or requires massive tools, such as the glass blowing at the glass studio nearby, is held at the center.
Charlotte and I get set up with easels and paints. I help her with her apron and wish I had one too. I look down at my cinnamon corduroy pants and long black and white striped tunic top. I went for cozy, comfortable, and cool. Not ‘ready to get paint on’ when I picked my outfit.
The two hours fly by and I only have a small handprint in bright pink paint on my shirt from when Charlotte wanted my attention but forgot to wipe her hands. she apologized profusely and I told her several times it was okay.
“It’s really no big deal Charlotte,” I tell her again as she stares at the paint. “Clothes are meant to be worn and loved. This will remind me of our fun girl’s day. It’s a lovely souvenir.”
“Okay,” she smiles and takes my hand.
We start to head to the bakery. Once we’re inside I ask Charlotte if she’s allowed to have something sweet. She replies yes, so I go grab us two cake pops. I hand one to her and we settle into cozy chairs while we wait for Jake to pick her up.
The moment the cake evidence is gone Jake strolls in.
“How was it?” he asks as Charlotte hands him a canvas covered in a kaleidoscope of painted handprints.
“Look at this daddy!” she starts to point out specific dots and smudges on the canvas. My phone rings and I excuse myself. Jake nods and I’m not sure if he’ll still be there when I turn around but a part of me hopes so.
I walk a little bit away to avoid the other people enjoying their sweets and coffee.
“Hello, this is Mallory Morin,” I answer the phone.
“Ms. Morin, my name is Tiffany with La Parisienne. I’m calling about a recent job application for our Los Angeles office.
” For the life of me I can’t remember what all I applied to, let alone where.
“I’m going to email you all of the information, but we’d like to move forward with an interview.
We need to see you in action of course, so we’ll fly you to Los Angeles for the interview. ”
“And I’d need to relocate to Los Angeles?”
“Yes, if selected, whoever lands the position would be required to be in office here. We’d be able to make sure you had a work visa and we have a decent relocation package. I’ll email you some dates. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” we end the call. My heart is racing and my tongue feels way too big for my mouth.
I got an interview with a prestigious French company. It’s in Los Angeles, CA.
I take a deep breath in and exhale. I repeat a few times. This could be my big chance.
But what about focusing on love, on being ready for a relationship?
That tiny voice in my mind jabs at me. I’ve always wanted a successful career doing something I love. This is a step towards that, even if it means shuffling my life around.
“Move to California. I can do that.” I whisper to myself before repeating it with more assurance, more firmness in my voice.
Maybe if I say the words enough it’ll be true.