Mallory walks back over to the box. She carries two large pots I didn’t know I owned to the cabinets by the huge stove. It has six burners and a griddle. I have never owned something like this, but it’s similar to my parents’ stove. I own a parental stove now. Wild. “It had been her idea to move to England because her sister was there, but I decided to go ahead and apply for au pair jobs without her and I got one right away. She followed but didn’t contact me for months and then, out of nowhere, her sister Stephanie called and said Diana was in a hospital in London and wanted to see me. I ran.”
“Of course you did.”
She turns and stares at me. “Because I’m a pushover and a lap dog of a friend who just does whatever people want?”
“What? No.” I step directly in front of her, brushing a tendril of hair hanging at the side of her temple back toward the messy bun. “Because you’re an incredibly kind, compassionate, understanding, and empathetic human being. One of the best people I’ve ever known and you don’t abandon or punish people, even when they hurt you.”
Her expression softens but she ignores the compliment. “I thought she was sick but when I got there I found out it was bed rest. She had preeclampsia.”
I stare blankly. Mallory almost smiles. “High blood pressure, which complicates a pregnancy and can cause an early birth. And Dyllie Bear was early, but luckily only by a couple of weeks.”
“And you were there when he was born.”
“I quit my nanny job and stayed by her side pretty much from the day I went to see her in that hospital so yeah. I was there." Mallory nods and again moves away from me to put more dishes away. "I met Felix who was madly in love with her, coming to the hospital every hour he could, skipping work when it was possible. At first, I thought that Dylan was his. God rest her soul, but she might have slept with you and him within a short enough time frame to make it possible. It's not judgment, just fact."
I shrug. “If I was a woman and could get pregnant, there would be months where the father could have been nine different guys so, no judging here.”
She takes a second to absorb what I just said. I don’t know how she feels about it, but I’m confident she isn’t judging me. I’ve never hidden who I was from Mallory and she’s always been my friend.
“Is this one of the months where, if you were a woman and found out you were pregnant tomorrow, the potential father could be a multiple choice questionnaire?” she asks me, her eyes on the spatula and potato masher in her hand.
She’s asking if I’m still sleeping around in her cute, indirect way. I walk over to her, stand directly in front of her, and then lean in and cover her mouth with my own. She kisses me back without hesitation. When I pull back her cheeks are flushed. I’m breathing just as heavy as she is as her eyes flutter open and, still holding her head in my hands, I open my mouth to answer her silly question when?—
“No poop this time!”
Tenley. Of course.
Mallory leaps away from me like I’ve suddenly caught fire, dropping a spatula on the ground at the same time. I spin as Tenley enters the living room, Dylan on her hip, and turns to the kitchen. “Where’s Mal?”
“Dropped a spatula,” Mallory announces and pops back up from the floor where she had been bent over.
“Oh. Cool,” Tenley murmurs breezily, but she’s watching us intently. Studying us. Assessing us.
I round the kitchen island and walk over to take Dylan from her. He’s extra drooly, his teething is in high gear. “I have to go for my pre-game nap so let me say hello to my lil dude first.”
He doesn't seem to want to come to me but he does, and there's only a little grunt of hesitation. Dylan then settles against my hip. He looks up at me, blinking those big green eyes. "Hey, Dylan. I have to take my nap, and then go to work but I wanted to get a hug from you. For luck."
“Your dad here might beat a record your gramps set.”
“I won’t. Not today,” I tell Tenley and she immediately lifts an eyebrow.
“Is that humility? Some superstitious thing? Are you under the weather?” Tenley quips and tilts her blonde head.
I ignore her and give Dylan a squeeze. He reaches for my hair and tugs it. Hard. I wince loudly and he giggles and tugs again. I gently grab his chubby forearm and pull my hair free. “I need my hair so let’s get you something else to yank on.”
“I’ve got a frozen teething ring,” Mallory says. Opening the freezer part of the fridge she pulls it out and tosses it across the dining room right to me in the living room and smiles proudly as I catch it with my free hand. I wink at her.
As I settle Dylan on a playmat next to the brand-new indoor/outdoor play set I ordered this morning with an exorbitant same-day delivery fee, my phone starts buzzing in my back pocket. I miss the call because getting Dylan settled is much more important. The number is Christine’s. Shit. Well, she’s not going to appreciate going to voicemail.
Before I can excuse myself from my family and call her back, she texts.
ESPN Interview tonight before the game so show up half an hour early.
Wear your best suit.
And next time, PICK UP YOUR PHONE!
I type back quickly.
