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“So?” the auburn-haired beauty said, looking Mallory straight in the eye after their hug. “What’s up?”
They hadn’t even been seated yet.
“Bray’s making an offer on a property in L.A.,” she said. This was their way, their pact. Born from a desperation to own their own lives after grief. To have a full and happy life after the loss of a child. Or as much of one as was possible.
Having met in grief counseling, the two had been deeply drawn to each other—and away from the group. They were alike in so many ways—and different in a lot of ways, too. But their spirits...it was like they’d been sisters in another life.
Or, as Tamara had once claimed, their babies in heaven had become best friends and were angels tending to the mothers they’d left behind.
There was no subterfuge. And no holding back.
They were each other’s nonmedicinal medication.
“He’s moving,” Mallory continued.
“He’s moving? To L.A.?” Tamara’s eyes were wide.
The hostess stepped up to seat them, so all Mallory got in was a nod, but she felt better already. Tamara would see through any self-lying she might be doing. By asking the right questions, she’d lead Mallory to the truth.
Just as Mallory had done for Tamara last fall when she’d held a stranger’s baby and fallen apart. And had done several times since as Tamara adjusted to loving with a whole heart again.
“You still love him.” They’d ordered salads and tea, which sat untouched in front of them. Tamara wasn’t letting Mallory pay attention to such mundane things.
She did love him, of course. It wasn’t news. She nodded.
“No.” Tamara shook her head. “You’re still in love with him.”
She wasn’t. How could she be? “He’s so wrong for me. On elemental levels.”
Tamara’s nod wasn’t encouraging at all.
And she’d yet to tell her friend about the baby she might have conceived with Braden’s sperm. Or about her plan to conceive at all. She hadn’t needed Tamara’s help on that decision.
Which had been one of the things that had told her so clearly that she was ready. It wouldn’t be easy. She wasn’t kidding herself. She knew her road ahead as a working single mother, one who’d lost a child and would forever carry the fear of losing another, would be tough. She also knew it was right for her.
And that she was ready.
The fact that she’d let Bray talk her into using his sperm, she was a little less comfortable telling Tamara about that...felt a bit more defensive about doing so...
“I think maybe I’ve been using him as a crutch all these years,” she said. “I never really gave him up, in terms of my personal security. I didn’t have to worry about being alone in times of trouble because he’d always have my back.”
“And that’s going to change when he moves to L.A.? You think he’s suddenly going to desert you?”
“No. It’s just... I don’t know what it is. This sad, sick feeling inside, that’s what it is. And I can’t figure out why it’s there. What it means.”
She picked up her fork and Tamara followed suit. They ate a few bites and drank tea like they were just two friends out for lunch. Except that there was silence between them.
“He’s been dating other women for years, so I know it’s not that I’m worried that he’s starting a new life,” she finally said. “He did that long ago.”
“You said once that you don’t know why he bothers telling you that he’s going out with someone because it’s not going to last.”
That was true.
“So his dating isn’t really moving on and starting a life without you, is it? It’s just living his own life with you in it.”
“But this move to L.A. is moving on to a life without me. I won’t have any part in it.” She’d known that already but she hated saying the words.
“Sounds that way.” Tamara was watching her, her food apparently forgotten.
