CHAPTER 15
Y ou came here to talk !
You came here to talk!
You came here to talk... Mallory’s brain chanted as she yanked Beckett closer. His long legs banged into the table, but she didn’t care. Judging from the animalistic growl as he trailed kisses down her neck, he didn’t care either.
This felt amazing, this felt like home, this felt like a mistake. They had so much to talk about, and kissing him without a care felt wrong. She would put a stop to this as soon as dinner was ready.
The oven timer beeped, cutting through their lust-filled moment. “Dinner’s ready,” Mallory breathed, anchoring Beckett in place as he stumbled.
“Yeah,” he said in a daze, his mouth swollen from their make-out session.
The oven beeped again until he got to his feet. As he pulled out two of the most gorgeous pieces of pizza she’d ever seen, she was happy they paused for food. It was truly a testament to her love of nostalgia that she didn’t jump on Beckett again, but her growling stomach won the argument.
Beckett plodded to the fridge and came back with two types of ranch dressing. “Being a good Midwestern boy, I have two ranch options for you this evening.” He brandished the bottles like he was a sommelier tempting her with the season’s newest merlot offering from France. “Tonight for the lady, we have a spicy ranch from the Hidden Valley or a regular ranch,” he faltered for a moment, biting back a grin, “also from the Hidden Valley.”
Mallory tapped the second bottle. “I’m afraid I’m a bit boring.”
Beckett dipped down and planted a kiss on her temple. “Mallory Lawson, boring? Hardly.”
Sliding into his seat, the pair devoured their meal. Mallory truly was that hungry, but she also wanted to get back to the good stuff. And by good stuff, she meant Beckett’s lips. Those lips were currently smirking in between bites. “Do I have a string of cheese on my face or something?” He made a show of swatting at his face, like there was a fly attacking him.
Mallory gestured at her own face. “You have a little something here,” she said, pointing to her chin. “And here,” she added, pointing to her forehead. “And maybe a little sauce over here.” She leaned forward and poked at his glasses with her napkin.
“Oh, wow!” He exclaimed, splaying a hand over his chest. “Beckett Fox has something on his glasses? Alert the media.”
It was a poorly kept secret Beckett had been battling eye glasses for most of his life. No matter the situation, no matter the frame, they always ended up smudged, cockeyed, lost, or broken by the end of the day.
“I take it the contacts are still a no go?”
Beckett scoffed, trailing his pizza crust through a puddle of ranch dressing. “Um, have you met me? You know I hate touching my eyes.” He shuddered like Edward Scissorhands was his optometrist.
Mallory laughed. “Have you tried since that last time in high school?”
She remembered the day well. She’d shown up at lunch at their usual spot. Evan was talking to someone who looked like Beckett’s alien clone. His gray eyes were cloudy, and he kept blinking like he was about to cry or throw up. Beckett cringed at the memory. “Yeah, a couple of times over the years, but it’s always the same result. Within three hours, one of them miraculously pops out, and the other gets stuck like it’s setting up shop. By the time I get my glasses back on, I’m an emotional wreck.”
Mallory covered her mouth to hide her smile, still charmed by this man. “Well, I like your glasses. Frankly, they’re as much a part of you as your red hair.”
Beckett was incredulous. He reached out to snag her forgotten pizza crust and popped it in his mouth. “That’s exactly what men want to hear,” he said around the dough, “Red heads with glasses are stone-cold foxes.”
Mallory raised an eyebrow in challenge. “That’s what I see. You’re suddenly going to inform me otherwise?”
Beckett gulped, nearly choking on the stolen crust. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Potentially. We haven’t actually talked about our future, so it’s a distinct possibility.”
After grabbing the wine bottle, Beckett topped off both their glasses before leading the way to the living room and the comfort of the couch. “If we’re going to decide our futures, I at least want to be comfortable.”
Mallory followed, trying hard not to stare at his backside in those jeans. She failed, miserably.
Despite wanting to talk, Mallory’s gut churned. It was fun playing house, sitting in the kitchen while the man of her dreams cooked and kissed her like she was more important than oxygen. In those moments, these stolen slices of time, she pretended they could have this. She pretended that Beckett wasn’t afraid, that he would be brave for her—for them.
Mallory plopped down on the couch, hugging her wine glass to her chest for protection. Beckett sat on the edge of his cushion before jumping to his feet and pacing in front of her. “I can’t do this,” he muttered, running his hands through his curls.
The meal that only moments ago filled her with joy turned to cement in her belly. “Can’t do what?” she asked, taking two long pulls from her glass before thinking better of it. She couldn’t get drunk if she needed to make an escape.
Sensing her confusion, Beckett stalked to her and knelt in front of her. He took her glass and put it on the coffee table with shaking hands. “I can’t lie anymore, Mal. I can’t stand this. Aren’t you going insane?”
“Right now, yes,” she agreed, wondering what the hell this man was going on about.
Beckett gently gripped her by the shoulders, his gaze sharp behind his lenses. “Mal, I want us. I’m sick of pretending that I’m not—” He stopped himself but didn’t loosen his grip.
“Pretending that you’re not what?” Mallory’s breath hitched, fear a sharp knife over her throat. Was he going to end whatever they had right now? Was inviting her over just a means to go back to friends? She would keep Beckett in her life anyway she could, but it wasn’t what she wanted.
“I’m sick of pretending that I’m not in love with you, Mallory.”
He hadn’t called her Mal, that was the first thing that registered in my muddled brain. Not the “L” word, not the hungry, yet desperate, look on his handsome face, but the fact that he didn’t use her nickname.
Throat closing with all the words she wanted to say in response, Mallory was at a loss. “You love me?”
“Yes, for about a million years.”
Mallory felt both heavy with dread and light as a feather. “But what are we going to do about it?” They’d done this dance before, mastered the steps until one of them was left alone and hurting, the other having stomped on their hopes for the future.
“I want us to date.” Beckett suggested so freely, so easily, she wanted to laugh. Or vomit, she hadn’t officially decided.
“You want us to date?” Now it was her turn to be incredulous. “Beckett, I’m pretty sure you’ve said this before. What about Evan?”
Throwing her brother into the conversation was tantamount to dousing a grease fire in water, things only got scarier and a whole lot messier. “Our feelings don’t seem to matter when it comes to coming out to my brother.”
“Our feelings,” Beckett clarified. “You feel the same way?”
Mallory rolled her eyes and threw her head back in a cackle. “Really, Beckett? You really don’t think I love you?” Recovering, she reached out and flicked him on the forehead. “You’re an idiot.”
Beckett covered the sore spot but smiled. “True, but you’re the one in love with an idiot.” That earned him another flick before he could dodge away. “Ow.”
“You’re going to keep getting those until you tell me how we’re going to do this.”
Hope flashed in Beckett’s eyes. “So you’re in?”
“Yes, of course, I’m in.”
Beckett reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “It was the pizza, wasn’t it? I knew I’d pull you in with the promise of unlimited cheese and bread.”
“You certainly know the way to my heart, you goofball.” Mallory kissed Beckett, sweetly and with all her heart. Their lips grazed each other as a feeling of utter contentment washed over her. This felt so right, but she knew they still had work to do. Pulling back, she broke the kiss on a sigh. “We need to tell Evan. I can’t keep pretending I like hiding, of being hidden.” Her admission cost a lot, and she hoped Beckett realized how much she’d been hurting since his Gram’s funeral.
“The engagement party is in two weeks,” Beckett started, licking his lips as he continued his plan. “I know I’m weak, but I don’t want to upset Evan or stress him out.” Mallory couldn’t necessarily disagree, but she thought Beckett might be selling her brother short.
“You think he’d be that upset, and what? Call off the wedding?”
Now it was Mallory’s turn for a flick, right on the shoulder. “No, but I don’t want to steal anyone’s thunder. Us showing up as a couple in front of your sisters and parents will draw attention away from Evan and CeCe, and I don’t want that. I want our moment to be our moment, and theirs to be theirs.”
“Dammit, you have a point.” Just as Beckett started to look too arrogant, she added, “Finally.”
“We’ll still go to the party as each other’s dates, but it’ll be as friends.”
“You’re telling me you want to test the waters?” Mallory asked, her expression pinched. “I hate to state the obvious, but haven’t we already done that?”
Beckett ran a hand down his face, knocking his glasses off. Mallory’s reflexes were quick, and she snatched them before they could clatter to the floor. “I know this is ridiculous, but hear me out. In a matter of months, this will all be over.” Sensing she misunderstood what he meant, he quickly added, “I mean the wedding stuff. Let’s go on dates, real ones in the meantime. And we’ll go to the engagement party and wedding as each other’s dates.”
Mallory toyed with the edge of his collar, rubbing the cotton between her fingers as she thought. “But you really want to date me? You want to come to my place and vice versa?”
“Yes, Mal. I want to date you. I want to parade you around town on my arm. I want to get matching outfits for the party, and I want to hold you in my arms while we dance at the reception.”
With a snort, Mallory let her hand drop. “Matching outfits will not be required, but I’m liking the sound of the rest of this.”
But there was one big issue they needed to address. “Beckett, what happens if you tell Evan and he’s upset? You’ve always said his friendship is too important to lose.”
Beckett let out a breath, but he didn’t back away. “He’s the closest thing I have to a brother. It would hurt to lose him, but it’s worth the risk. Frankly, I can’t keep doing this with you, Mal. I can’t keep pretending I don’t want to spend every waking moment with you. As soon as they’re married, we’re going to go public. I want the fanfare, and I want you.”
It was everything she’d wanted to hear, but she was still nervous. She trusted Beckett and could sense his words were based on contemplation and planning. He was working his way toward a future that hopefully had it all.
“Let’s do it,” she said, closing the distance to seal their ridiculous plan with a kiss.
“You mean it?” Beckett asked, tracing a line down her cheek until his hand rested over her heart. “I love you, Mallory. I want to make this a reality.”
And it was all she wanted too. Mallory had waited forever for Beckett Fox. Surely she could wait a few more weeks.