Chapter 7
Mallory took her time getting ready for the first date she’d been on since she’d ended a brief relationship last year.
The man she’d been seeing had been frustrated by her lack of time for him while her mother was sick and later dying.
Anyone who couldn’t show some compassion during a time like that wasn’t the man for her.
But she’d known from the beginning that he wasn’t the one for her.
They’d had some fun together, and their relationship had been a nice diversion.
But after having known true love with Ryan, she refused to settle for anything less.
Mallory would rather be alone than be with the wrong guy.
That made it easy to prepare herself for the evening with Quinn. Whenever she went out with someone new, she kept her expectations low so there’d be no chance of disappointment.
That was her usual routine anyway. Tonight, for some strange reason, she was nervous.
After spending a couple of hours in his presence, Mallory already sensed that Quinn might be different from the other men she’d dated since Ryan died.
The man was sexy as hell, and she suspected his war wounds ran deeper than he’d let on earlier.
She wanted to know more about him, and that already gave him an advantage over most of the men she’d dated in recent years.
So many of them overshared to the point of verbal diarrhea.
She’d heard it all—from horrifying ex-wife stories to tales of their sexual conquests.
No detail was off-limits in the TMI generation.
It was refreshing to look forward to an evening with a man who hadn’t shared his life story in the first two minutes after they met.
She was curious about his life story, though, and hoped he’d open up to her on their date.
After blow-drying her hair and applying enough makeup to be presentable, Mallory went into her bedroom and stood in front of the closet for a good five minutes before she settled on dark jeans with a plum-colored sweater that did great things for her breasts.
She finished off the outfit with high-heeled black boots.
With the addition of a diamond necklace that had been her mother’s, silver bangle bracelets, dangly earrings and a spritz of her favorite perfume, she declared herself ready to go.
Sitting on the bed, she reached for one of the few unpacked boxes that remained in her bedroom and opened it, looking for the silver framed photograph that had sat on her bedside table for the last thirteen years.
Retrieving the photo, she looked down at herself and Ryan on their wedding day, all smiles after a simple courthouse ceremony followed by dinner with her mom, his parents and their closest friends.
It had been the most perfect day of her life.
She traced her fingertip over Ryan’s handsome face, frozen forever at twenty-seven.
It felt surreal now, after so many years, as if maybe it had never happened.
Despite the passage of time, she remembered so many things about him, especially the way she’d felt whenever he walked into a room and looked at her like she was his whole world.
He’d left big shoes to fill, and so far, no one else had come close to making her feel the way he had.
Sometimes she felt sorry for the guys she dated, because they had no idea what they were up against.
“You set the bar pretty high, my love,” she said to the photo. “Wherever you are, I hope you know I’ve never forgotten you.” Placing the photo on the bedside table, she angled it toward her bed so she would be able to see it better. Now that Ryan was here, too, her new home felt complete.
Minutes before Quinn was due to arrive, Mallory’s cell phone rang, and she recognized a local Gansett Island phone number. “Hello?”
“Mallory, hi, it’s Mason. Hope I’m not getting you at a bad time.”
“I’m on my way out, but what’s up?”
“Oh, well, I was going to ask if you might want to grab a pizza at Mario’s and chat about the rescue routine. But it sounds like you have other plans.”
“I do. I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize. We’ll do it some other time. See you at the meeting?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Great. Have a good night.”
“You, too.”
Yikes, had he been asking her out, too? The Summer of Mallory was off to an interesting start. She no sooner had that thought than Quinn arrived with a soft knock on her front door. Mallory took a deep breath, ran her sweaty palms over her jeans and went to answer the door.
Wearing a button-down shirt that he’d obviously ironed for the occasion and khaki pants, he stood with his hands on either side of the door. “Hey,” he said, his gaze traveling from her face to her feet and back up again. “You look nice.”
“So do you,” she said, unnerved and oddly aroused by the way he looked at her.
“Ready to go?”
“Let me grab my purse.”
He waited while she locked the front door and gestured for her to go ahead of him down the stairs to the driveway, where his truck was parked.
“Let me get that for you,” he said of the passenger door.
As she put on her seat belt, Mallory gave him an A-plus for manners.
“I hope you like seafood,” he said when he was settled in the driver’s seat. “I never thought to ask before I made a reservation at the Lobster House.”
“Seafood is fine with me.”
“Oh good. Tables are hard to get this week.”
“My sister-in-law Stephanie just got back from the winter in California, and she’s booked solid all week at her restaurant.”
“Which one of your brothers is she married to?”
“Grant. He’s the screenwriter. They went to LA so he could work for a few months and came back to open the restaurant for Race Week.”
“I heard this week would be busy, but you have to see it to believe it.”
“This time last year, Grant, Mac and Evan were in an accident when the boat they were sailing on was hit by a freighter in the fog.”
“Jesus.”
“From what I heard, the family had a really long, scary day waiting to hear they were all safe. Their friend Dan Torrington was with them and got hurt pretty badly. The captain of the boat was killed. His mother, Betsy, is now my uncle Frank’s girlfriend. They met after the accident.”
“Wow.”
“The family is anticipating a less dramatic Race Week this year.”
“I’m sure they are.”
“So how was the off-season on the island?”
“Not as bad as I expected. It was actually kind of relaxing. I did a lot of reading and watched a ton of movies. Hung out with my brother and Lizzie and their friends. There’s always something going on.”
“That’s what I’ve heard.”
“If you’re looking to party, it’s not the place to be in the winter.”
Mallory laughed. “I can’t remember the last time I had the urge to party.”
“It’s better for us to avoid that scene, anyway.”
“Yes, it is.” She glanced over at him. “How long have you been sober?”
“Two years.”
“Congratulations. That’s a big accomplishment.
” She had questions she’d like to ask but didn’t want to pry.
After so much time in the program, she’d learned that some people liked to talk about their journey while others preferred to keep the details private.
If she had to bet, she’d guess he was in the latter category.
When they arrived at the Lobster House, he held the door for her and helped with her coat. They followed the ma?tre d’ to the table, and Quinn held her chair.
Mallory looked up at him. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
The waiter came to give them a list of specials that included far more detail than any average diner needed about how the food was prepared. “I’ll give you a few minutes with the menu,” he said after the lengthy recitation. “In the meantime, may I interest you in a cocktail?”
“I’ll have a ginger ale,” Quinn said.
“Make it two,” Mallory said.
The waiter’s face visibly fell with disappointment when he realized they wouldn’t be drinking. “I’ll be right back.”
“He needs to work on his stage face,” Quinn said.
“I know! We ruined his night.”
“It is kind of a relief to be out with someone who gets it. I get tired of explaining that I don’t drink. People are always curious about why.”
“I know what you mean. For so many people, socializing of any kind means drinking. It did for me until it became a problem.”
“You said you’ve been sober ten years?”
Mallory nodded. “Other than a brief slipup last year after I lost my mother and met my father for the first time along with the rest of my family.”
“Those are big things to deal with all at once.”
“It was a rough time in more ways than one. The thing that really freaked me out was that I never even gave ten years of sobriety a thought when I drank wine with my dad and beer with my brother and champagne at my other brother’s wedding. It wasn’t much, but I certainly knew better.”
“You were focused on fitting into your new family and took your eye off the ball with your sobriety.”
“Which we both know is something that can’t happen.”
“Well, now you’re aware that it’s possible to lose your focus, so next time you’re in a situation where it would be convenient to drink, you won’t.”
“I certainly hope not. Have you had any tests over the last two years?”
“Every day is a test. Every day is a decision to stick with it, to not go back to the dark place.”
Mallory nodded in agreement, wishing he would elaborate but refusing to push for details. If and when he wanted to say more, he would. Or he wouldn’t. Either way had to be fine with her.
They took a few minutes to examine the menu and to compare notes on what looked good. When the waiter returned, she ordered a shrimp dish and he went with the swordfish.
“I’m allergic to tree nuts,” Quinn told the waiter. “Anything to worry about with the swordfish?”
“No, sir,” the waiter replied, “but I’ll let the chef know just the same.”
“Thank you.”
“Tree nuts, huh?” Mallory asked when they were alone. “Have you ever had a severe reaction?”
“Just once when I was a kid, which is how we found out I’m allergic.”
“Where’s your EpiPen?”
Smiling, he said, “Always the ER nurse. It’s in my back pocket.”