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In

Mallory

I begged Callen for forty-five minutes to shower and freshen up before we start filming the scene with the date invite. I don’t need half that time to make myself presentable, but I need to check in with my family. I need them to tell me if I’m crazy for considering Holland’s proposal.

I tap the video call button, and a moment later, my phone connects.

Aunt Jo’s face fills the screen. “Mallory, thank goodness. Look at this madness. Your parents are going to be the death of me.”

She swivels the camera around, and I hear the crooning voice of Frank Sinatra in the background. My dad floats into the screen. He’s dancing to the melody, cradling my mom in his arms as he serenades her. She’s got her arms wrapped around his neck, and she’s beaming.

“They’re killing me with this cuteness,” Jo says from off camera.

I laugh, feeling some of the stress of the morning roll off my back even as a knob of emotion clogs the back of my throat.

That’s what I want. I want dancing around the living room. In sickness and in health. I want the laughter and the tears with a life partner.

Could my person be Holland?

“What’s up?” Jo’s face fills the screen again. She hooks her thumb over her shoulder. “I want to let the two of them have their little moment. But I’ll get them for you if you need them.”

“No, it’s okay. I can talk to you first.” I flop onto my bed.

I tell her everything about the guy at the golf course this morning.

She’s outraged, obviously, but I assure her we’re handling it here.

I talked to Cy when I got back to the clubhouse, and he told me to expect a call from Collin.

I met him at Darla and Drew’s house, and I trust him to take care of everything.

Speaking of taking care…I tell Jo about Holland next.

How he defended me. What he said to me about his feelings.

“Now, I don’t know what to do,” I say when I finish.

Jo bites her lip and cuts her gaze to the left, not meeting my eye. She’s completely silent, and the only sound coming through the line is Frank Sinatra singing about how everybody loves somebody at some point. That, and my parents’ laughter.

They are almost too adorable for their own good.

“Say something,” I demand.

She looks back at me. “You look like you’re surprised by this development.”

I huff. “I am.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Me and Holland? Come on. We bicker like…”

“An old married couple?” she fills in with a wry grin.

“I was going to go with cats and dogs, but…” I shrug.

She sits down in the chair in the corner of my parents’ living room. I can still hear Frank singing in the background. “What about your work?”

“He says I’ll always have a job with him, no matter what.”

“You believe him?”

“I do.” I don’t even have to think about it.

Instead, I think about the folded-up note he wrote for me.

I opened it when I got back into my room.

It said: Don’t ever let anyone steal your voice.

You’re allowed to live out loud. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that.

About how Holland pierced right through to the heart of what I was telling him.

How he recognized why I was acting a certain way but then pushed back on it.

He challenged me. It’s not quite as easy as how he spelled it out, but it’s definitely making me think.

I’m allowed to take up space. I’m allowed to have a voice.

In an effort to control my circumstances and all possible outcomes, I’ve been letting other people—or the potential reactions of other people—dictate how I behave for too long. “He’s different than Brevan,” I add.

“Maybe so, but who’s to say he won’t change his tune when things get tough.”

I waver. The rawness of how I felt after our moment in the storage shed is still fresh. Holland wasn’t very perceptive there, was he? But he owned his mistake. “That’s fair,” I admit.

“Do you have feelings for him?” Jo presses.

“Who has feelings for whom now?” My mom’s head pops into the camera. My dad is still holding her.

I sigh, holding back a smile. “Rude, Mom.”

“Hello to you too, dear.” She tips up her chin. “Now, what are you two chatting about without me. Ethan, put me down, this is girl talk.”

My dad does what he’s told, settling my mom into a chair next to Jo before leaning in. “Love you, kiddo. Take care of yourself there.”

My heart squeezes. “I will, Dad, thanks.”

My mom and Jo watch him over the phone, and then they lean in.

“Alright, spill,” my mom says.

“Holland is in love with Mallory,” Jo says.

My mom shrieks, and I hold up my hand.

“Don’t be dramatic, Jo. No one said anything about love.”

“Well, he’s well on his way.”

“He’d be a fool not to love you,” my mom says staunchly.

“That’s what I told her. I was asking if she felt the same.” Jo pins me with a look.

My mom’s eyes are wide as she waits for my response.

I close my eyes and think about all the ways Holland has shown up for me the past few weeks. His awareness when we were at his parents’ house. Lending me his sweatshirt. The note at the mini-golf date. The way he’s complimented me and my work. Taking care of me when I was sick.

“I think I could be interested in him…like that.” I dive bomb into a pillow. “I don’t know, you guys,” I say, sitting up straight. “Am I being foolish? He’s my boss.”

Jo looks serious. My mom looks elated.

“Work only gets you so far in life. Love is what matters.”

“But you need a roof over your head,” Jo counters. Then she softens. “I don’t want to see you get taken advantage of again.”

My mom frowns. “Are we talking about Brevan?”

Jo nods.

My mom presses her lips together. “If you are going to let that good-for-nothing sandbagger dictate the rest of your life, then you’re letting him take more from you than he ever deserved.”

“Isn’t she right to be cautious?” Jo presses.

I find myself nodding, teetering on the brink of going for it with Holland but still holding onto past pain and worrying about what could happen in the future.

“Being cautious is one thing. Being passive is another.” My mom waves her hand across the screen. “You’ve got to stop waiting in the wings and step out onto the stage of life. It’s time for you to be the heroine in your own story, not the understudy.”

Jo widens her eyes. “Whoa. That’s deep.”

“Seriously.” I nod, and my mind flies to the photo in Holland’s parents’ hallway—the same one on Holland’s shelves—where I’m standing off to the side of the action. I don’t want to be off to the side with Holland. I want to be in the middle of it all.

My mom shrugs. “I may be paraphrasing a Nora Ephron quote. But”—she holds up her finger as I roll my eyes—“the point stands. Besides, none of us is guaranteed a tomorrow. Look at me.”

“Mom!”

“No, you listen. I’m just saying. We don’t know what the future holds. We don’t know if Holland will turn into Brevan 2.0. But we do know that living with regret is no way of living. ”

“I don’t think Holland is like Brevan at all,” I say after a second.

All I can think about is the look of righteous indignation in his eyes today before he hauled off and punched the scoundrel at the golf course who tried to take advantage of me.

That, followed by the look of total and complete care he directed at me in the process.

I shiver. All of it was kind of hot, not going to lie.

“Besides, it’s just dating, right? I can take it slow. ”

“See. There you go. You need to trust your gut. Trust what you know about Holland, and then, dear, some things you have to take a leap of faith on. Could you get hurt again? Sure. But you can’t spend your life living in that place. That place of fear. Because that’s not living at all.”

“Spoken like a true romantic,” Jo says dryly, but she’s smiling. She turns to face me. “It’s up to you, Mallory. Maybe I’ve been overprotective of you over the years by reminding you of what happened with Brevan. I’m sorry if I was over the line.”

“I’m always grateful to have you in my corner, Jo. You know that.” I pause and think. “Honestly, there hasn’t been anyone who I’ve wanted to date.”

“Until now!” My mom’s voice is sing-songy. “Because you like Holland. I knew it. Didn’t I call this?“ She smacks Jo in the arm, and then she looks at me. “When will you get to see him again?”

I tap my phone to check the time. “Soon. I’ve gotta go.

Mom, don’t get your hopes up. It’s just a date,” I say again.

I like the idea of being the heroine of my story…

in theory. It’s still terrifying to think of stepping out of my comfort zone—or should I say, the place where I’ve stayed to protect my image and my reputation. But maybe I owe it to myself to try.

Now to figure out how to do that when the cameras are rolling.

My mom gives me a thumbs up.

“Keep us posted, then. As soon as you can,” Jo says, and my mom nods. “I’m proud of you, Mallory.”

“Thanks. Love you guys. ”

“Love you too. We’re here for you. We support you no matter what.”

I blow them kisses and hang up.

I take a deep breath and pull up a new text message to Holland.

Mallory

Okay, I’m in.