“Honey. It’s okay. Don’t respond.” Mal says this in a calm voice, not even looking up from her clipboard. “It’s not worth it.”
But I can’t let this drop without saying something. I point at Mal and speak through gritted teeth to prevent myself from shouting and making a scene. “This woman has more creativity and goodness in her than you and the rest of your cronies put together. The truth is, you all don’t deserve her in your corner. She’s tremendously gifted, and far more talented than any of you. Apologize.”
Meredith feigns confusion. “For what? I didn’t think it was an insult anymore to call someone fat. Body positivity, and all that.”
I watch her walk away in stunned silence. I look over at Mal and she’s back at work cutting up brownies, but her eyes are shining.
“Babe. Come here.”
“I’m fine,” she says, fiddling with plates and knives and forks and napkins.
She’s clearly not. She’s been hurt. And I want to turn the world on its axis and shake it until everybody like the evil Meredith falls out and floats away into the heat of the sun.
“Mal, put that down and come here.”
She curses quietly when she drops a piece of cake and it lands with a splat on the concrete. Then the dam bursts and it’s full waterworks.
“Fuck this place. What am I even doing here?” she says.
I wrap her up so tightly I think I might stop breathing, but I do not care. “Don’t listen to the terrible people. You are perfect. I meant every word of what I said.”
Mal buries her face into my shoulder and heaves great sobs until she soaks my shirt. I don’t even care.
“She’s right about one thing. I can’t get enough of your sugar.”
“That’s not what she meant,” Mal breathes, her voice muffled by my shirt.
“Sure she did,” I gently tease, making sure she can hear the smile in my voice. “You’re made of the sweetest sugar from the inside out and that’s all I want. It’s all for me.”
She heaves a chuckle and a sigh against me, and I’m happy I can make her laugh.
Soon enough, my girl is back to her old self, smiling and laughing if still a little unsteady.
Our canoodling is interrupted by a voice coming from behind us.
“Yo. Lady with the cookies?”
We turn to face the big burly foreman I had been speaking to before. I keep one arm around Mal.
“Yes?” Mal replies.
“You make donuts and shit? I’m sorry. Donuts and stuff?”
Mal dabs at the corner of one eye and nods. “I certainly can. I have a huge selection of breakfast pastries, I did a whole spread for the governor last year—“
“Yeah, that sounds super. Listen. If you bring my crew some donuts and coffee tomorrow, I’ll spot the whole mess. Whatever you want
to charge. You make coffee?”
Mal nods. “I can make whatever you need.”
The foreman nods and puts in an order for three dozen donuts and fully leaded coffee.
I watch the interaction and see more wheels turning in my Mal’s head. Her eyes are back to their usual brightness.
I’m so fucking proud, my heart might pound right out of my chest.
Chapter Eleven