Chapter 16
STEPHANIE
Every part of my body starts spontaneously sweating—and not just casually. I’m talking fully formed waterfalls!
There is no way I understood Mallory.
I stare blankly at the four faces looking to me for answers, but I have none. My mind rapidly fills with questions. “Your . . . family?”
Mallory holds a dead-level stare that says everything he isn’t saying.
I immediately examine the three women, desperate for evidence that he’s wrong.
There has to be another explanation. “You can’t be his mother!
” I plead with Pam. “You look like you’re barely ten years older than him.
” I plunge ahead, afraid she’ll side with Mallory and derail my logic.
“And you,” I inspect Kaylee, “you don’t look anything like him.
He has olive skin and dark hair that deliciously curls at the ends.
” Wait, did I just say Mallory’s hair is delicious?
Heat crawls up my neck, but I can’t stop now.
“Your skin’s as flawless and creamy as porcelain, and your long blonde hair has none of his wave. ”
“I knew I was going to like her,” Kaylee whispers to Pam through her lopsided grin—which, now that I see it, is a carbon copy of Mallory’s. “I look more like my dad. Melodie’s the one who looks like Cooper,” she says to me.
I scan Melodie and am mortified that she does, indeed, have the same dark eyes, Grecian nose, and perfectly shaped lips as her brother. “No, no, no, no, no!” I take in a large gasp of air as I realize what I’ve done: I created a big scene because I thought Mallory was dating his family!
My insides shrink at Mallory’s expression. “Stephanie, I still have no clue what’s going on.”
“Your FAMILY?” I start backing away, a stream of sweat flowing down my back.
“I’m so embarrassed. I have no idea what to say.
I thought that . . . this was like the other time .
. . And I couldn’t let . . .” I become less confident with every stuttered word and try—desperately—to not physically collapse from the sheer weight of my humiliation.
I turn to the women, trying to justify what I’ve done.
“I didn’t want him to get away with it . . . Not again.”
Mallory, hands on hips, cuts in, “That still doesn’t answer—” he freezes. “Wait. Did you say again?” His brows pull together.
Pam, Kaylee, and Melodie are hanging on every word, but I don’t know if Mallory wants them to hear what I know. I grit my teeth and lower my voice. “Should we talk privately?”
He opens his mouth to speak, but Melodie jumps in. “This is private enough. Continue.”
One look at Mallory tells me he doesn’t agree, but he gives a resigned exhale and nods for me to go on.
So here it is. The moment of truth—when I finally spill the secret I’ve been keeping for a year and a half.
I wait for the last of my pride to vanish, which isn’t long, and dive in.
“I overheard you. On the phone. You called three different women and set up dates—which would be fine, except you told each of them that you were in love with them.” This is hard to do in front of his mom and sisters.
“And you implied that each was the only woman in your life.” His eyes narrow, and the three ladies flick their eyes to him and back to me.
“I assumed tonight was turning into the same thing. The way everything went down in the lobby, I imagined . . .” I look over at his family—who is absorbing every word with way too much interest, giving me the urge to physically shrink into the pavement.
“So I stepped up and was going to rescue them.”
Mallory looks to the sky in exasperation. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
My nerves bristle at his implication. “I’m sure you don’t love this happening within earshot of your mother,” I steal an apprehensive peek at Pam, who doesn’t look the least bit concerned, “but I heard the conversations, Mallory.” My voice lowers even more, as if that will help soften the fact that I’m airing his dirty laundry in front of his family.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I was caught in the bathroom right off the bedroom where you made the calls.
” The memory crystallizes in my mind, and I become fidgety.
“We’d just met . . . and I didn’t want to flush the toilet and walk out because .
. . I didn’t want the next thing you thought about me to be, Gee, Stephanie must have just peed.
It was awkward enough when you’d smacked into my boob?—”
“What?” Kaylee’s head jerks.
Mallory rolls his eyes over to his sister. “It’s not what it sounds like.”
“No, it’s not!” I dart a look at Kaylee. “It was an accident, but . . . the bathroom . . . I didn’t know how to leave . . .” I give up talking altogether, as a toxic combination of embarrassment and awkwardness seeps through my every pore.
“This is all so good.” Kaylee looks delighted.
I steal a look at Melodie, and she doesn’t even seem to be breathing, she’s so anxious for more details.
“Wait a minute.” Mallory puts out a hand. “We’d just met? Are you talking about Deke and Sam’s wedding day?”
“Yes.”
“You overheard me call three different women, ask them on dates, and profess my love to them?”
“I did.”
“Stephanie, I wasn’t dating anyone then. I hadn’t even been on a date in ages.”
“Cooper,” Pam’s hand lands on Mallory’s forearm, and she gently pushes him back while she moves closer to me, “let me talk to her.” How does she appear so calm?
She’s acting like this is a lazy summer day and we’re discussing lemonade recipes, while I feel like I’ve been hooked up to an electric fence!
“It’s going to be fine. There’s obviously been a misunderstanding, and we’re going to figure this out.
” She gives my arm a reassuring squeeze—which calms me, but not by much. “Tell us what you heard.”
Mallory’s phone calls had been burned into my brain, and I’ve been replaying them for the last eighteen months.
I could recite them verbatim but decide to stick with the bare minimum.
“There was a woman in New York. They made arrangements to get together when he got there in a few weeks, then he told her he loved her. Then, he called a different woman, one he called Little Bear—” In my peripheral, I see Mallory run a hand down his face and he lets out a groan.
At the same time, Melodie’s face breaks into a grin. She opens her mouth to speak, but Pam cuts her off. “Not now, Melodie. Let her finish.” Melodie stays silent, but disappointment is etched all over her face.
Their reactions unsettle whatever amount of calm I received from Pam a few seconds ago.
“The next woman he talked to lived in Dallas”—light bulbs seem to be going off in everyone else’s brain, and my words slow, trying to account for what’s going on—“and he set up another date with her.” I become less sure of myself with every word I sputter out. “The last woman lived in Austin?—”
“That’s what you overheard?” Mallory’s comment cuts me off.
I’ve entered some kind of alternate reality, because Mallory actually looks amused by all of this.
I scan over our small group, and it’s obvious that the women share Mallory’s assessment of the situation.
They know something I don’t. This makes me even more nervous, and my heart’s chaotic rhythm intensifies.
Mallory clears his throat and adopts a mildly formal tone.
“Stephanie, I think introductions are in order: This is Kaylee, my older sister. She has worked in the fashion industry in New York City for over eight years. My younger sibling, Melodie—whose nickname is Little Bear—was going to school eighteen months ago in Dallas. My beautiful mother, Pam, has lived in Austin for over thirty years. And, as it happens, I desperately love all of them.”
The blood drains from my face.
“You mean,” I can barely bring myself to say it, “those calls . . . were to your . . . family?”
There’s no need for anyone to answer.
Mallory Cooper was never a two-timing, cheating, two-faced liar.
My brain completely short circuits.