Page 39 of Fallen Angel

She looks up at Gavin. “Thank you. For the lunch, for being so cool about this whole thing. I’m sorry if it caused you any embarrassment. But it makes me realize this burlesque thing has run its course and that it’s time for me to make some changes.”

When Mallory gets home from work she finds Alec in the kitchen opening cartons of freshly delivered Chinese food. He always says that it’s the best cure for jet lag, and she usually finds that charming. But since the message from Violet, she can barely look at him.

“Hey,” he says, greeting her with a kiss. “Wait—did you make your hair darker?”

“Yes,” she says. She notices a flicker of concern. He remembers that the last time she dyed her hair, they weren’t exactly in a good space.

“It looks great,” he says.

“Thanks.” She checks inside the refrigerator and reopens a half-empty bottle of red wine.

“I called you a few times,” he says. “That Page Six item is crazy, right?”

She searches the cabinet for a clean glass and settles on a coffee mug. “I was too busy to think about it.” She slugs the cold wine, not having the patience to wait for it to warm to room temperature. She never drinks red wine cold.

“Mal,” he says. “What’s wrong? Why did you give me the silent treatment all day?”

She leans against one of the counters, facing him. “This isn’t about you, Alec,” she says. “You’re such an egomaniac.”

He looks hurt, and she feels a little bad. But deep down she’s really hurt, too. She can’t forget the night at the Plaza, but it turns out she can’t live with the memory. Every time Violet says something the least bit provocative, she’s going to experience the wound fresh.

“So what’s it about?” he says.

“For one thing, I’ve busy trying to salvage my job after Page Six outed me.”

“Is that what you’re upset about?”

“No. What I meant to say is: While I was busy trying to salvage my job you were busy talking to Violet about a redo at the Plaza!”

He seems surprised and says, “Mallory, she called me.”

“Why would she do that?”

He gives an exaggerated shrug, throwing up his hands. “I don’t even know how she got my number. But she’s bad news.”

She really doesn’t want to hear his excuses, so she brushes past him toward the bedroom. It just confirms what she’s been thinking: Things will never change. If she accepts what happened at the Plaza, if she accepts getting messages like the one from Violet today, then she only has herself to blame.

“Even when things are good between us, I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. And as far as burlesque goes? I can’t help but worry about the future. Where is this really going? Okay, I proved that I could do it. I have fun. But I’m never going to be able to support myself doing this, and I don’t want to live the crazy life that Bette is living on her way to fame. I’m just doubting everything. I feel like I’ve backed myself into a corner and I don’t know how to get out of it.” She starts crying.

“Mallory, where’s all this coming from?”

She looks at him. “I love you, but I’m not happy. And I don’t believe I can be in this life we’re living.”

Now that she’s said it, the simple truth is undeniable. And there’s a certain relief in the clarity.

“Come on. Whatever’s not working, we’ll fix it.”

She shakes her head. “I mean, we’ve tried in the past. But we keep ending up back in the same place.”

“And what place is that?”

“Distrust.”

He stands in the doorway of the bedroom, a crushed expression on his face. “Mallory, it was one night that meant nothing and you know that because you were there.”

Yes, she was there. And arguably, she started whatever he’d finished. She’s to blame, too. And she’s going to work on herself. But she can’t change him.

“Mallory, we met young. We’re both changing and growing, but that’s just normal. And we’re doing it together.”