Chapter 11
Iforced myself to take slow, calming breaths before finally getting out of my truck and heading toward the street, briefly glancing at the large plantation house behind me as I did.
We always stopped in to say a quick hello to my cousin and his wife on our way to Amber’s festivals, since they were usually busy with their house full of guests, but I had the strongest urge to go inside and just stay.
To get everything with Mallory off my chest to someone else.
Someone who didn’t already have their mind made up about the situation, like Thatch and Briggs did.
Ignoring the draw, I followed the pull that had always been stronger than any other, and continued in the direction my incredible, infuriating wife had gone.
I didn’t rush, and I didn’t worry about finding her. Even if she hadn’t left a trail of chaotic emotions in her wake, I’d always seemed to be able to find Mallory Monroe, even in crowds.
And sure enough, I found her a few minutes later. Facing away from me and standing still. The only movement was her ragged breaths that I could see even from my position.
“We didn’t go,” she said just as I was slipping up beside her, already knowing I was there, among the dozens of other people walking past her. At my questioning hum, she explained, “We always go into the house to see your cousin.”
My head bobbed slowly as I came to a stop in front of her, searching her blank stare and contemplative expression. “It’s all right. I’ve already seen them.”
She quickly blinked, pulling her away from whatever thoughts she’d been trapped in, and focused those blue eyes on me. “We just got here.”
I swallowed thickly as I debated how much to tell her, because the truth revealed just how badly I’d been struggling lately.
Just when I settled on something vague and noncommittal, I found the truth slipping free instead.
“When we haven’t had details, I’ve been spending my weekends in Amber or at my parents’. ”
Surprise flashed across her features before understanding seemed to dawn there. But she still asked, “For how long?”
“Three months.”
She shifted uncomfortably—a completely un-Mallory-like trait—and cleared her throat as she glanced away. “So, there really is no reason for me to be here,” she said thickly, the words coming out more of a confirming statement than a question. “You would’ve come anyway.”
“Only go to these with you.”
The way she stilled spoke volumes, but she just gave a hesitant nod and uncertainly said, “Then let’s go.”
I forced my hand back to my side when I started reaching for her like it was natural, like touching her might be something I could do. Turning, I started down the street, passing rows of booths I knew we’d come back to later—we just always started with the ones run by my family.
We were silent as we walked side by side. Something about the action felt so familiar and would’ve brought a smile to my face if there wasn’t a weight clinging to us and slowly suffocating me.
But I was so distracted by her stiff posture and the way she was wringing her hands for probably the first time ever, of trying to gauge her expression and mood from second to second, that I nearly bowled someone right over.
A mumbled curse slipped from me as I grabbed the woman to make sure she stayed upright, all while trying to disentangle my legs from hers before either of us fell.
“Sorry,” I said as I released her once I was sure she was steady, then apologized again to the other woman she’d been standing with. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
The woman I’d run into flushed, a soft laugh leaving her as she teased, “Yeah, uh, you gotta be careful. Those booths sure can be distracting.”
A hesitant sound left me at the slight but obvious emphasis she put on booths, letting me know we weren’t talking about the stalls surrounding us.
“Yeah, well,” I mumbled as I crouched to pick up the bag she’d dropped when I’d first run into her.
“So, is this the part where we exchange information?” she continued as I slipped the few items that had fallen out back into the bag.
I briefly looked at the meaningful smirk on the woman’s face before skipping over her friend’s amusement to land on Mallory. Mallory, whose hands were no longer wringing, and whose resignation tore at my chest as she longingly glanced in the direction we’d come.
“You know, just in case there’s damage,” the woman continued with feigned coyness. “For insurance purposes, of course.” Directing her attention to the side, she unabashedly sized up Mallory. “Are you his sister?”
In the time it took for my heart to fumble over a strained beat, Mallory’s blue eyes hardened into ice and steel at the asinine assumption, considering we looked nothing alike, and narrowed on the woman. “I’m not his anything.”
If I’d thought I was losing Mallory at any point over the last three months, I’d been wrong. The way it felt like she shoved a dulled blade into my chest and twisted it with her matter-of-fact tone was proof I hadn’t even begun to lose her before this moment.
Before I even had a chance to absorb the impact, the friend swallowed back a snickering laugh as the woman I’d run into stepped so close she was nearly pressed to me, muttering, “Imagine that. So, about that number exchange . . .”
All of it prompted an edgy, irritated smile from me that felt like it was nothing more than bared teeth.
But it triggered something with the women.
The one I’d run into softly gasped and reached for my arm like I wanted her to touch me, like my entire focus hadn’t shifted to Mallory. “Look at those dimples.”
“Adorable,” the friend said, but the first woman hummed in consideration before saying, “That’s a milder word than what I was thinking.”
“I’ll be sure to tell my mom they’re appreciated,” I murmured as I pulled my arm free and took a meaningful step toward my wife.
The women made identical sounds of affection before the friend said, “And he loves his mom,” as if they were collectively making a pros list for me in front of me.
The rapid exchange all happened within just a handful of seconds from Mallory’s devastating claim, but it felt like an eternity of seconds and minutes and hours wasted with the woman hiding behind her fortress of steel and diamonds.
“Mal—”
“Hey, you know, you look really familiar,” the woman I’d run into said over me, even going so far as to grab my arm when I reached for Mallory, forcing my stunned stare her way at the bold and unwelcome move.
Even if I had wanted to flirt with anyone other than the girl I always should’ve been chasing, this wasn’t flirting. This was desperation, and I’d never been into that.
When she continued, her tone only held a hint of that forced bashfulness from before. “But we’d know if you were from Amber. Are you from nearby maybe?”
A couple cities over. But they didn’t need to know that.
Besides, if they were from Amber and not just visiting for the festival, there was a good chance I’d run into them over the years.
Or they just knew my cousins. My hair was a lighter brown to my cousins’ black hair, and their eyes were varying shades of blue to the green and hazel that ran in my family, but the resemblance was uncanny. Dimples included.
My frustration and fear exploded when Mallory left, her harsh sigh just barely audible over the surrounding noise.
I took a step after her before rocking back to look at the woman still clinging to me.
With another savage smile, I carefully but forcefully gripped her wrist to remove her hand, all while years of being reminded of my manners prompted me to offer them a slight nod as I said, “Y’all have a good day.”
“Wait,” one of them said, but I was already gone, hurrying after the girl who was trying to disappear in the crowd.
Grabbing Mallory’s hand when I reached her, I began pulling her toward the slightly less crowded sidewalk.
“Don’t stop on my account,” Mallory said dryly as she snatched her hand from mine, only to gesture in the vague direction of where we’d run into the women. “Sounded like you had some great prospects.”
A sneering huff left me, but she continued before I could speak.
“It’s a shame you only ran into the one.
You could’ve gotten two numbers out of that life-threatening collision,” she said in the same dull tone from before—the one she always used when recounting any interactions I had with other women.
“But how lucky that it was a mama-loving, southern boy who crashed into her. And with dimples too . . . wow.”
“I get it, Monroe,” I bit out, but she kept going as if I hadn’t spoken.
“Did you look familiar to them?” She glared at me then, making it clear she thought there was a reason for it.
“I think they’re from here—”
“Exactly,” she said with a lift of her shoulder. “And you’ve spent a lot of time here.”
“—but I don’t remember them,” I finished firmly.
From the way Mallory’s head shifted back and the first sign of emotion flitted across her face, it was the wrong thing to say. Because she didn’t look satisfied at that, she looked wrecked.
Just as I was about to ask what was wrong with what I’d said, she choked out a saddened laugh and asked, “There’s so many you don’t even remember them all?”
Felt like I got whiplash as my terror and hurt over her sure claim that she wasn’t my anything abruptly faded to ash. Because this . . . this Mallory wasn’t cold and unaffected, and I knew I might lose her, but I still had a chance.
My head bobbed before dropping and roughly shaking as I tried redirecting every thought to this—to trying to find a way to ease her into the truth. Because even though I love you was on the tip of my tongue and begging to fall, it was the absolute wrong way to start this.
Dragging my hands over my face, I drew in a shaky breath and lifted my head to see strangers passing by.
My parted mouth snapped shut. My heart faltered. My gaze darted everywhere before I started in the same direction she’d been going.