“You can tell me anything, honey,” she says and oh how I wish that were true at the moment, but it isn’t. I need to settle his custody and make him like me before I announce this to my parents. I need them to see I have it handled. It’s going to be okay.
“Love you and love to Dad and Auntie C.” I hang up the phone, toss it across the bed, and stare at the ceiling again.
Eventually, I continue reading the book Mallory sent, adding notes to the hotel stationery. I finally break down, reach for my cell again, and text her.
Hope he settled okay tonight. Thanks for the book. Already started it.
I can tell she’s read the message almost instantly but all I get as a response is a thumbs up. So I text again.
I hate fighting with you.
It’s not eloquent but it’s honest.
She texts me a picture of Dylan. He’s asleep, sucking his thumb.
I miss him. And you. Have a good night.
I really do miss him, which is crazy because a few weeks ago I didn’t know he existed. I need to get my shit together. For him. This is my new reality and I need to adapt to it as fast and as well as possible. I scroll through my contacts to the number Conner sent me and I call the sports psychologist.
Chapter10
Mallory
Of all the things that have gone wrong in my life, especially recently, I've never once felt targeted, like the universe was conspiring against me. Like I was doomed or jinxed or cursed. But as I push the stroller through the gates to Tate's complex and see his front door wide open, I can't help but wonder if maybe thereissome kind of cosmic vendetta with my name on it.
I know Los Angeles has its share of crime, and I’ve been careful since I got here to lock the door, even when I’m home. Park Tate’s fancy car near the entrances to the stores I go to so the walk isn’t long. Be vigilant when I’m on strolls with Dylan, like the one I just returned from. To find the house being robbed? I mean, what else could it be? Tate is still on his road trip. He doesn’t get back until tomorrow morning. His cleaner came yesterday. Maybe she forgot something and came back?
I move myself and the stroller so I'm blocked from the open door by a large palm. And then I dig into the belt bag I have on. I have the house keys and my cell in there but not the car keys. Shit. I was hoping to maybe get in the car and drive to a police station. Instead, I pick up my phone and start to dial 9-1-1.
Tate is going to be so mad, but like, what else can I do?
Before I can hit send, I accidentally drop the phone. It hits the pavement with a clatter that sounds like fireworks going off in my brain. So loud! But was it really? Dylan coos, unaware of the precariousness of the situation. I bend to pick up the phone and glance around, hoping another tenant is out and I can call to them for help.
And then I see her.
Tenley Garrison, walking up to the front door of Tate’s townhouse, carrying a giant light… the kind used on movie sets. I start to back up, pulling the stroller and myself toward the front gates. But of course, she sees me. Our eyes literally lock and I look away and spin the stroller around quickly, Dylan squeals happily, like he's on an amusement park ride or something.
“Mallory? Mallory Echolls?”
Oh no.
I keep walking. Fast.
But being Tenley, she doesn’t stop. And she gets louder. “Hey! You!”
I make it to the sidewalk, which is amazing because the automatic door beside the gate for pedestrians opens super slow. But Tenley is bogged down with that light she’s holding so she can’t exactly run after me. Except that she must have put it down because I hear fast approaching footsteps and then suddenly there she is, directly in front of me. I immediately drop the sunshield over the front of the stroller so she can’t see Dylan.
"Mallory," she says with a warm but confused grin on her face. "I knew it was you! Didn't you hear me call?"
"No. I… S-Sorry," I stutter. "Hi, Tenley."
Tenley is the only Garrison that intimidates the hell out of me. Out of probably everyone. She’s this…force. She's just so unabashedly sure of who she is and has been like that since we were in high school. It doesn't hurt that she's drop-dead gorgeous too. Even now with her hair in a ponytail under a UCLA Extension baseball cap and no discernible makeup on her face, she's stunning.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, still smiling. “Did you know Tate lives here? This is crazy. I thought you were in England.”
“I was. I’m here now.” I try to smile back at her but I’m in full-blown panic mode. “And I have to get somewhere. I have a meeting.”
“A meeting?” Tenley blinks those big blue eyes of hers. “So, wait, you live here now? In Venice? And you, what? Babysit for someone in Tate’s complex?”
