Mom sighed, slumping a little. “I like Mallory. I like her a lot, but don’t you think she’s a little…ditzy?”
“I don’t think. I know she is.” I grinned. “It’s just part of who she is.”
“Oh dear God, you’re already falling for her.”
I wiggled a pen at her. “I won’t deny it. I want to see where things go, assistant or not. If you spent more time with her that wasn’t on the phone demanding she come to some fancy-ass mixer, maybe you’d see what I see in her.”
“Maybe I’ll visit her at home. Bring her something to cheer her up.”
“Oh, wait. She just emailed me.”
“She’s working from home?”
“She insisted on doing the emails.” I scanned her email, then laughed.
She wanted to know who delivered her nachos last night so she could put them on speed dial.
“What’s so funny?”
“I ordered her nachos last night, and she wants the number to put on speed dial.” I typed back the number and told her I’d bring them with me tonight when I stopped by to check on her. Her aunt Grace had already said to me that under no uncertain terms I was to be the ultimate gentleman by getting her whatever she wanted since, in her worlds, the ankle was my fault for taking her to such a stupid place on a date.
At least her mom wasn’t yelling at me anymore. In fact, she just about loved me for taking such good care of her “baby.”
Man, it’d been fucking fun to see the look on Mallory’s face when she’d called her that.
“Where did you get nachos delivered?” Mom asked. “That’s a thing?”
“Yep. El Casa delivers them.”
“Did she like them?”
“Like them? She hit me when I tried to take one.”
Mom’s face brightened. “Excellent. I’ll go grab some now and take her some for lunch! That’ll cheer her up, and I can get to know her a little more. Since you’re dating.”
“Mom, that isn’t a—”
“Wonderful!” She clapped her hands and stood up.
“Mother, no, wait—”
“I do like nachos,” she hummed to herself as she left.
My eyes went wide. “Mother!” I got up and chased her down to the front door, but no, she’d already gone. She moved so fast and disappeared so easily she was like a magical creature. “Damn it.”
Amanda tilted her head to the side. “Was she muttering about nachos?”
I nodded, sighing.
“Huh. Can’t imagine her eating nachos.”
“She probably uses a fork,” I muttered, rubbing my temples and heading back to my office.
This was a nightmare.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE – MALLORY
There was a knock on my bedroom door, and my mom poked her head around it. “Doing okay, sweetie?”
I looked up from my perch on my bed. My ankle was raised courtesy of three poofy pillows my mom had sourced from her never-ending cupboard of things, and I had my laptop on a tray in front of me so I could work.
I couldn’t lie here and do nothing while my ankle froze to death courtesy of two bags of peas.
“I’m fine. I’m hungry, though.” I wiggled. “Ugh, this is so annoying.”
Mom smiled. “You have a visitor.”
My stupid little heart skipped a beat at the thought that it was Cameron.
And then it sank when I saw his mom.
It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate her coming here, it was just that I knew it would be awkward. She was only here for one reason—she knew we’d been on a date.
I wasn’t sure how she’d feel about it.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about her being here while I was lying in bed, totally defenseless, with yesterday’s mascara on.
Mind you, I suppose a bag of frozen peas would be a pretty nifty weapon in a pinch…
“Cordelia. Hi.” I smiled. “What brings you here.”
“Well,” she said, stepping into the room with two boxes that smelled awfully familiar. “I stopped by to see Cameron, and he said you were feeling a little miserable, so I thought I’d get you some nachos and come and see how you were doing.”
Wait—nachos?
Okay. I take it back. I was happy she was here.
“I’ll leave you to it.” Mom smiled and left, pulling the door slightly closed.
“Sit down.” I waved to the desk chair. “Sorry, it’s not great. I wasn’t expecting company.”
She slid her gaze toward me with a coy smile. “Except Cameron.”
My cheeks flushed. “I was thinking of my best friend, but I guess he works.”
Cordelia laughed as I shut my laptop and put it to the side. She handed me one of the boxes. “I tried to get them to put some margaritas in take-out cups, but they were unfortunately reluctant.”
“You can’t get the staff these days,” I replied, trying to hide my surprise at her desire to get margaritas in a take-out cup.
That was a genius idea.
“Hey, I see your face. I can let loose like every other person.” She grimaced as she sat down. “I might not have done it for thirty years, but that was because, like you, I ended up with my ankle strapped when I’d done it—except it was a cast because I’d broken two bones.”