16. Hugo
Chapter 16
Hugo
Mallory steps from the front door of Olive Inn. She's gorgeous in a dress I'm certain my sister would call baby doll. She does this a lot, wearing clothing that is strategically loose in certain places. I'm not sure why, but she seems hell-bent on keeping her pregnancy to herself. It's her news, and her business, but is there something more behind it? Is it possible the father doesn't know about the baby?
Mallory strides down the sidewalk toward my car, looking better than any model on any runway. She wears white sneakers, her purse held loosely in her hand and bumping against her calf as she walks. This woman is a lot of things, including a conundrum.
A thought pierces my brain, my heart, and my whole damn body, has my fingers tightening on the steering wheel. Is Mallory keeping her pregnancy quiet because the father was abusive? Is she hiding?
Mallory slides into the passenger seat, and the smile I wore when she first walked out has been stolen from my face by my maddening thought.
"What?" Mallory asks, arms crossing.
"You're wearing a dress that keeps your stomach a secret. Again."
"So?" she asks, voice clipped.
"Why are you keeping the baby a secret?"
"None of your damn business."
She's right. It's not. But I can't sit here and wonder if she's been hurt. I have to know, so I can demolish the man who did it.
I turn so I'm facing her. "Mallory, it's not my business, but I'm dying over here thinking the father hurt you and you've left town to protect your baby."
Mallory's jaw drops. "Hugo, no. That's not at all what happened. I haven't been chatty about my pregnancy because that's not why I'm in Olive Township. Although my reasons for being here are personal, I am still a professional. This is my job." Mallory glances down at her hands, folded in her lap. Her thumb runs the length of her knuckles. "But if I'm being honest with you and myself, I am still getting used to the idea of being pregnant. And being a single mom. This baby was a surprise, and it feels a bit like sitting in the sun beside a pool, and then suddenly being thrown into the cold water."
Relief fills me. I don't have to enlist Penn in a secret mission to track down some guy and beat the snot out of him.
I shift into Drive, appeased now. Mallory and I make a stop at Sweet Nothings for coffee and pastries. "For the two of you," I say, holding up the box in Mallory's direction.
She pats her carpet bag of a purse. "I remembered snacks today."
I shake my head. "They won't be better than Sal and Adela's homemade pop tarts."
Mallory grins over the top of my car. "I could spend the day sitting in the bakery and listening to them bicker."
"Stop in anytime," I tell her, glancing at the store. "They're always going at it."
Mallory squints at me, but I say nothing. Just the words going at it have my mind serving me detailed and salacious memories of a certain beautiful woman with her mouth wrapped around a popsicle. Don't let me get started on the way the coloring stained her lips an inviting shade of red.
Using an open palm, I smack the hood of my car. "Get in, Gumshoe."
She sends me a wink over the top of the car. "You got it, Swordsman."
We're only a few minutes outside of town when Mallory turns to me and says, "I'm going to tell you about my baby's father."
Involuntarily, my fingers squeeze the steering wheel. She said he didn't abuse her, but he sure as hell has abandoned her. The idea of it has me seeing red, but in an effort not to dissuade Mallory from opening up to me, I school my strong reaction and simply nod.
"Dylan was my trainer at the gym. Sounds common, right? "
I steal a glance her way, find her grimacing. "As common as anything else, I suppose."
"We had a casual relationship. We were upfront about that, so there weren't supposed to be hurt feelings. I guess I should back up here and say that years ago my gynecologist told me I had too much scar tissue on my ovaries to ever be able to have kids. A result of endometriosis. I was told that if I could get pregnant—and that's a big if —it would require medication or surgery. Possibly both. I was careless with Dylan. And then I went for my annual checkup and my gynecologist walked in and told me I was pregnant."
So much for schooling my reaction. I'm shaking my head and blowing out a heavy exhale.
"Me, too," Mallory says. "And throw in crying and saying Is this a joke? at least twenty-seven times. When I told Dylan, he was horrified. Said some things he hasn't asked forgiveness for, but I've chosen to forgive because I don't want to harbor bad feelings toward him."
I'm more than happy to harbor enough bad feelings for the both of us. I don't know exactly how this story will end, but I pretty much know how this story will end.
"Dylan asked if I'd consider terminating the pregnancy, but I said no." Mallory looks down at her midsection, pressing a hand to the fabric of her dress. Her small bump is on display now, and she palms it possessively. "This might be my only chance to have a baby, and I want it. Even if that means I have to be a single mother." Mallory sighs and looks out the windshield. My car loops along the switchbacks as we climb in elevation. Dusty desert mountains rise on all sides of us. "Dylan signed away his rights as a parent. Every single one of them."
The admission, though I knew it was coming, still blows me away. I've been casual too, with literally every woman I've dated. But had she come to me and said she was pregnant, I would have said, no we are pregnant . Because there isn't a chance in hell I'd let my son or daughter grow up without me. As long as I'm breathing on God's green earth, I'd be in their life.
"Can I speak frankly?" I ask. She might not want to hear what I have to say.
She motions out. "The floor is yours."
"Dylan is weak."
Mallory smiles wryly, patting each of her biceps. "He's jacked, actually."
I'm shaking my head before she has finished her sentence. "Weak in character. He lacks the moral fiber to make the right choice."
I feel her looking at me, the way her eyes run over the right side of my face. This is a tricky part of the drive, acute angle turns that require two hands on the wheel and two eyes locked forward. No harm will come to Mallory or her baby on my watch.
After a moment of quiet, Mallory says, "He wouldn't have made a good father. He's not a bad person, but he had a lot of personal issues he needed to get through. It would've prevented him from being the person my baby deserves."
I'm so in awe of Mallory right now I can barely settle on what to say to her. If I weren't driving, it would be easier to focus my thoughts. It might actually be a good thing I'm driving right now, because I'm thinking things I shouldn't say out loud, thoughts that extend beyond the boundaries of a professional relationship.
That's what we're in, right? A professional relationship? Two people working toward a common goal. So I say, "Bravery is looking in the face of something scary, and doing it anyhow."
"The same could be said of stupidity."
I chuckle hard, and in my peripheral vision, I see Mallory give a pleased shrug.
"All jokes aside," she says, "I know what I'm doing is unconventional. And telling people I'm pregnant leads to questions I don't want to answer over and over. At some point, I won't be able to hide it anymore. But for now, the story is only mine. I guess I'd like to keep that going for a little longer."
"That makes sense." We climb our way out of the switchbacks, rising up in elevation until we even out. From here, it's pinion trees and desert for the next two hours. I pull a homemade pop tart from the box of pastries and devour it.
At some point, Mallory leans her head back and falls asleep. The road is mostly straight now, and I take the opportunity to steal glances at her. Her face is soft in slumber. Peaceful.
My friends were right to be stunned by the way I brought Mallory to the Olive Festival. She could have arrived by herself, could have walked around and met people on her own. But I wanted to be a part of it, and my friends immediately recognized that it was unlike me. And then I held her hand, solidifying the consternation they felt.
Mallory, and her baby, are the first real threat to the way I've been living.
Maybe that's a good thing.