"What do you want for dinner?"

I glanced up, in the midst of folding towels. Kalob wasn't dressed in his usual work attire, which was incredibly unusual. Instead, he had on dark blue jeans and a light grey Henley, and his hair was actually brushed.

Did I brush my hair today?

Setting the towel in a pile of other towels, I shrugged. "I don't care." I started working on another, and added, "as long as it's not fast food."

But, if I was being honest, I was only dressed well enough for a fast food restaurant. A ripped and stained, used to be red vee-neck—but is now faded pink and outstretched—clashed against my navy sweats that were almost two sizes too big. Add day old mascara, smudged eyeliner on the bottom of my eyelid, and probably unbrushed hair, and I was a stunner. If anything, I wouldn't even be welcome inside the restaurant; they'd force me to use the drive thru to shielding innocent eyes from my wretched appearance.

Mallory would be ashamed of my appearance if she saw me, but she hadn't spoken to me yet. She had mentioned several meetings, which I found odd for a Saturday, but I didn't question it. And, she had said that she's text me after it was all finished, but maybe she forgot?

Or she doesn't want to talk to you.

I rolled my eyes at myself. Mallory wanted to talk to me. She had to talk to me. She promised she wouldn't ignore me anymore.

Okay, and you trust her?

I mean, yeah hopefully.

Then why are you worrying?

She hasn't talked to me all day!

She works.

Yeah, but—

Kalob's voice knocked me away from my mental argument with myself. "Do you want Mexican? I'm sure Casa isn't too busy."

I'm really not dressed to go out.

"Oh, yeah, sure."

I sat another towel down before noticing Kalob had gotten closer. He sat next to me on the sofa and pulled the basket towards him. "I'll finish these, you get ready."

Rushing out of the living room and to his bedroom, I hoped I had clothes to wear. I wasn't planning on staying with him, so I didn't bring clothes. And honestly, I hoped to be with either alone or Mallory tonight. I wanted to have dinner with her at some fancy place where you had to make reservations, or heat up a frozen pizza or something. There was no in-between.

Why are you obsessed with her?

I growled at myself, finding a pair of leggings, which were probably too small, and one of Kalob's button down shirts. I'm not obsessed with her, I just like her company. Right? I don't love Mallory, I love Kalob.

But you don't even think about him. When was the last time you slept with him, or even in the same bed?

But still, I love him. He's my first love. I want kids; Mallory obviously doesn't have the genitalia for that. And we couldn't be a "couple". She's married, and a politician, and getting in a relationship with her "assistant" would be scandalous. And maybe she doesn't like me, like, like me.

Wow. Are you ten?

Taking longer than necessary to get dressed, I finally went to the bathroom and tackled my disaster of hair. Running a brush from root to tip proved difficult, also proving that I, in fact, did not brush my hair today.

Completely irresponsible.

Rolling my eyes, I yanked through the knotted strands until they were smooth enough to pull back into a top knot. With that out of the way, I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and brushed on a light concealer so no one would notice my dark circles.

Maybe if you slept at night instead of worrying what your mistress was doing...

Why is my inner conscious so hard on me?

Because you're imagining that Mallory's criticizing you.

"My god," I hissed, shutting off the bathroom light and rejoining Kalob.

He was in the same spot on the sofa with folded towels around him, and I felt guilty. Images flashed in my mind of him sitting there with me, cuddled on the couch. We were content, happy. Another came. Again, we were on the sofa, but we both sat on opposite ends, the only contact being my feet grazing his thighs. That was shortly after coming home from my trip with Mallory. But, before I could analyze it further, a new image appeared, and I was no longer in it. Kalob was on the couch alone. The picture of us that usually sat on the coffee table was gone, and a pack of cigarettes sat in its place.

Kalob doesn't smoke.

I watched the door open and some woman came through. I couldn't see her face, but she had short, black hair. She grabbed the pack off the table, slipped them into a large, black purse, and approached Kalob. Her hands reached up to hold his face, and before I could say anything, her lips pressed against his, and the image shattered, once again revealing reality.

As I exhaled a sigh of relief, Kalob noticed me. "Hey. Ready?"

We were soon seated in the restaurant. Kalob had said both of our parents called and asked to do dinner, but after twenty minutes of waiting and numerous incidents of stomach growling, we ordered. This moment contained the most conversation we've had in at least a week, and that should have concerned me, but it didn't. I wasn't entirely bothered by the fact, and I hoped Kalob wasn't either.

"I'm serious," he laughed, taking a drink of his beer before continuing. "They found the letter on the bulletin board right after lunch."

My brows raised at this. "What'd your boss do about it?"

"He called Frank—drunk chairman from the Christmas party that grabbed your boob two years ago—and the rest of the board. I think they voted him out. But they definitely gave a copy of the letter to the press."

Shaking my head, I took a sip of my wine, despite the fact that it tasted horrible. Whatever wine Mallory bought tasted completely different, better.

Kalob chuckled again, "His sex scandal's gonna make this town famous, especially when he gets off by getting pissed on."

Sex scandal.

Thank fuck that no one knows about Mallory.

Yet.

Nodding, I took another drink, gulping the maroon liquid down until my glass was empty. I was going to need at least four more. Easily.

"Esme."

I glanced up at Kalob. He looked handsome, but he always did.

"I love you."

And I feel guilty.

"Love you too," I responded slowly, cautious about where this was going.

His eyes softened, melting. A small smile lined his lips. His entire demeanor was that of a puppy. "No, I love you," he repeated, voice delicate yet strong. "And it's not a 'I loved you ever since I met you', it's a 'you make me crazy sometimes, but still I love you'. It took me a while, but I learned how to love you, how to grow up and put my needs aside. And I'm still learning." He brushed back hair with his fingers, exhaling a shaky breath.

My heart was pounding, and every nerve ending in my body screamed to run or tell him the truth: tell him about Mallory. But I couldn't move. I stayed in my chair, paralyzed.

"God I'm still learning—but I love you. I want to love you as long as you'll let me. I want to have so many babies and raise them with you. And get old and grey. And sit on the porch in rocking chairs, screaming at the neighbor-kids."

That same, goofy grin stayed as he kneeled down, grabbing my hand in the process. My body lit up like a match: ablaze and roaring for freedom.

"I love you, 'me, and I want to marry you, if you'll have me."

Without watching him pull it out, I stared at the simple ring he held out. The princess cut diamond wasn't huge, but I knew it definitely wasn't cheap.

Fuck.

Probably noticing my wide eyes, before I could say anything, Kalob spoke again. "You don't have to answer me right now, but wear it. For a week. If you don't have an answer by then, or it's no, then I'll take it back, but please, just for a week."

I couldn't say no to him. No matter what, in this moment, I couldn't say no. Nodding slowly, I let Kalob put the ring on my finger, and almost forced a smile on my face. Applause erupted in the restaurant, meaning that this scene was witnessed by many. Also meaning that I was, in a sense, accountable to these strangers, and I assumed that at least two people would congratulate us before we left.

Our waiter came by as soon as Kalob returned to his seat. A wide, toothy grin illuminated the room, and I could practically feel his excitement from my own seat. I ordered two more glasses of wine, and when the waiter returned with my drinks, my parents came in, followed by Kalob's. My parents were dressed as usual, both kissing my head before they sat. Kalob's father, Patrick, wrapped one arm around the dirty blond's shoulder, congratulating him, and his mother, Laurie, grabbed a hand from Kalob and I, giving them a gentle squeezing.

"Let me see your ring," my mother squealed like a giddy school-child.

"You knew?"

Flashing a look at Kalob, Laurie spoke up. "Of course darling! We've known for months now."

My mother wretched my hand towards her, gazing intently on the ring with a small "oooh". I let her pass my hand around while my other hand tossed back another glass of wine.

Laurie brought up children, and as soon as her and my mother discussed bedroom swatches, I tuned them out, excusing myself to the bathroom. I needed to call Mallory: she needed to know about Kalob's proposal, and my lack of certainty, and maybe her confession of affection for me?

I dialed her number, now knowing it instinctively. "Please answer."

The phone rang once, then twice...

"Hello Esme, how is your evening going?"

My nerves settled at the sound of her voice, but there was something off. Her tone was almost forced: it didn't have the sweet sultry ring it usually had. "Fine, Miss, but I need to talk to you. It's urgen--"

"Oh, yes, yes dear. You left those files on my desk yesterday."

What the hell was she talking about? "Miss?" I questioned, "I'm serious, I need--"

She cut me off once again. "Don't stress yourself out about it, I don't need you to come in on your day off. I can easily take care of it."

"Miss, please-"

"Who's that on the phone, honey?"

I couldn't deny who's voice that was. Maybe Mallory was acting strange because Ted was around, but that didn't explain why she couldn't just leave the room and help me. Wasn't it her job to help me?

"Just Esme, dear! She's worrying about some paperwork she forgot, and she's such a workaholic that she won't just let it go."

I was ready to say something, but Ted cut me off. "She'll make a good politician with that kind of attitude!"

"That she will," and I could hear the smirk on Mallory's face. "Esme, don't worry, I will work it out. Have a good evening!"

"Miss, wait, I--".

The phone disconnected with three simple beeps, and I wanted to smash it to a billion pieces. What I really wanted was Mallory, but apparently that was too much to ask, so I washed my hands and returned to the table, glad to see that the food had finally arrived.

Kalob looked up at me, his smile communicating everything he felt, and I tried to return it, but I lacked the enthusiasm. So, I gave him a small smirk and kissed his cheek before digging into my enchilada and rice. I was four bites in when my phone vibrated in my pocket, and of course, I opened it.

Do not ever pull a stunt like that again, Miss Holland. I will message you when I have the time to do so. Expect a punishment Monday morning. I want you present at least fifteen minutes early.

Fuck me.