Page 98 of Pros Don't

I need to focus. I’d love to kiss her right here, right now. After what she said on the golf course this morning, I think she’d let me. But I need to talk to her first. I don’t know how many more chances I’m going to have to get her alone, without cameras rolling, so I need to use my time wisely. I shift slightly and pull my cell phone from my back pocket. “I want to show you something.”

She turns her head so she’s facing me, and I hold up a video I have saved.

She furrows her brow. “Is that me?”

I nod and click play.

The camera zooms in on Mallory’s face. She’s sitting perched on the edge of the couch in the hearth room of Daisy’s Inn. She’s chewing on her lip in the frame.

“What is this? Where did you get this?”

“Listen,” I tell her.

“I’m here for Holland. And you’re right. No one can say Holland isn’t hot. He’s also a good listener, and he’s attentive and thoughtful. He’s the whole package. His actions and who he is as a person combine to make him even more attractive to me.”

The video cuts off, and I set my phone down at my side.

“You said that.” I’m stating the obvious, I know. But I still can’t quite believe it.

Mallory nods slowly. “This morning,” she says quietly. “How did you… Did one of the producers… I didn’t know you’d see that—at least not until the show aired.”

“Daisy took a secret video and sent it to me,” I admit. “She said she thought I might appreciate it.”

“Oh.” Mallory searches my gaze. I’m sure she’s trying to figure out where I’m going with this.

“Daisy has always had my back—she and Candace Patchcab, actually.”

Mallory turns on her side and props herself up on her arm. “I don’t think Candace likes me.”

“She does.”

“How do you know? She scared the crap out of me the other day in Daisy’s garden.”

I chuckle. “That sounds like her.”

Mallory waits for me to continue, her gaze searching mine.

I mirror her pose but don’t meet her eye. Now that I’m about to tell her all this, I don’t know where to begin.

“There’s so much I want to say to you, Mallory. Bear with me.”

She nods for me to continue.

Here goes nothing.

“I have a speech impediment. A stutter.” All the blood rushes to my cheeks. I hate how much this all still affects me, but here we are.

Mallory’s gaze doesn’t waver. She keeps her focus on me and stays quiet.

“It didn’t affect the quality of my life when I was little. Lots of kids talk weird when you’re in grade school, and no one seemed to care very much about it. Also, I was a quiet kid in school, so I think a lot of people didn’t even realize I had a stutter. That all changed in seventh grade.”

I lie back again. It’s easier to say this all out loud without looking at her.

Mallory follows my lead, and then we’re lying side by side, arms touching from shoulders to wrists.

“What happened?” she whispers.

“My stutter got more pronounced. I was in the awkward, preteen stage. I had put on some weight, and I hadn’t gotten taller yet. I was super self-conscious about everything. My voice was changing, and my stutter got worse. Every time I got called on by a teacher, I couldn’t get an answer out. Some of the boys in my class started calling me Porky Pig, because of the stutter and my weight. The teasing grew relentless. I felt like a verbal punching bag for them. They called me Pork Chop. Porker. Porky. Pork Boy. Pig Brains. They’d mock me and imitate my stutter, following me around and teasing me until I tried to talk back. Then, of course, I couldn’t get words out without stuttering, so they’d roll with laughter.”

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