to surprise her with a visit. Mark gave us the weekend off. The fact that I already planned to come down here to do…I don’t know what isn’t important.
Dinner. I’ll make her dinner. Set up some candles. Music. The whole romantic bit, so she’ll be surprised instead of suspicious when she comes home.
Now that I’ve got a plan, I roll my bike out of the garage and ride down to the store for a few groceries.
She’s still not home when I return—again, not unusual. I kick off my shoes and start working on dinner. Fish tacos—the first meal we ever shared together.
The doorbell rings. Motherfuck, if it’s a reporter, I’m spilling blood.
I fling the door open and find an enormous vase of plump pink roses in my face. “Mallory?” The person holding them asks.
“No,” I snap.
The delivery guy cranes his neck around the flowers. “Does she live here?”
“Yeah.” The knot in my gut tightens to a painful degree. I accept the vase from the guy with both hands. “I’ll make sure she gets them.”
Without giving him a chance to answer, I kick the door shut. “You’ve got to be motherfucking kidding me.”
I don’t even have to read the card to know who they’re from. Same fucking arrangement Andrew bought for Pamela. For such a creative genius, he sure sucks in the flower department.
Since he sent the flowers to my fiancée, I feel entitled to pluck the card out of the envelope.
Dear Mallory,
Thank you for being such a beautiful person inside and out. Looking forward to Saturday's shoot.
Your friend,
Andrew
Red. Motherfucking red stains my vision. Christ, I probably popped a blood vessel. Mallory will come home and find me bleeding out on the floor.
Breathe.
In and out.
Deep breaths. One after the other.
Roses don’t mean shit.
Innocent.
Inexperienced.
Regrets.
My father’s words weren’t a warning—they were a motherfucking hex.
Friend? Andrew isn’t friends with women. He fucks, uses, and discards them. Friendship isn’t part of the equation.
Beautiful person inside and out. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Did they—? Am I too late?
The rage monster beating against my skull wants to smash the vase against the wall.
After several deep breaths, I calmly set the vase down on the entryway table, and pad into the kitchen to turn off the stove. I move through the house in a fog, flicking off every light, except for a small lamp next to the roses.
Finally, I drop my ass into the chair that gives me the best view of the front door.
And I wait.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Mallory
This has been the worst day. The director yelled at me more times than I care to remember. Pamela kept shooting me smug little smiles that I couldn’t decipher. We filmed some scenes at the beach and I swear there’s still sand in my underwear. I’m damp, shivering, and longing to change into something warm and cozy.
At least my shitty day helped me forget about the catastrophe at Andrew’s last night.
I trudge into the house and drop my bags by the door. Coming home to an empty house is wearing on me. I usually leave more lights on so it doesn’t seem so gloomy. But there’s only one lamp lit by the door, illuminating a giant bouquet of pink roses.
My heart stutters.
Where did they come from? Someone was in my house?
Recognizing Andrew’s handwriting on the outside of the envelope, stalls my freak-out. I pick up the card. My nervous gaze darts around the dark and shadowy room, afraid he’ll jump out at any moment. I eye the long umbrella in the corner. I am so jamming the pointy end into his crotch if he broke into my house.
Dear Mallory,
Thank you for being such a beautiful person inside and out.
Beautiful person. Bullshit. He should’ve written ‘thanks for being three holes I’d like to stick my dick in.’ At least it would’ve been more honest.
Looking forward to Saturday's shoot.
Too bad for you. I told Cindy today I had to cancel but stressed she should go ahead with it since I know she needs the money.
Your friend,
Andrew
Your friend? Friend. What the hell? Is that some signal? After he so bluntly explained he didn’t see me as a friend? Is his apology sincere?
I toss the card on the table. It’s a lie. Another attempt to get me into bed.
“Nice flowers from your friend.”
I jump five feet in the air. “Oh my God!”
A light snaps on, revealing Chaser in one of the chairs across the room.
Heart pounding, chest heaving, I gasp. “What are you doing home?”