A cleaning crew was hired for the morning after. Mallory watched as they cleared tables, discarded leftover hors-d'oeuvres, and carried empty glasses away to the kitchen. She pressed her back against the nearest wall, absently twirling strands of hair around an index finger. A lot was still running through her mind, despite the success.

For one, her mother's words were plaguing her, and even though she knew the woman was a spiteful creature, she couldn't help but take the cruelty to heart. Twenty-four years should have desensitized her. Her childhood was preparation for adulthood--compared to her older sister, shunned for not aspiring to be the best in her hobbies, and condemned for not wanting a modern family and the title of housewife. Eileen never approved of her choice to become a working woman, had admitted to such when she was still in high school and applied for colleges. Jennifer on the other hand, lived to please--their mother, father, and her husband. She was the perfect daughter in Eileen's eyes, the perfect wife, and perfect mother: a suitable role model for the younger of the two, but Mallory did not idolize her sister.

Envious green tinted her skin as a child, infuriated with righteous anger towards her sister's need to please and mother's favoritism. She didn't like the idea of competing for affection and approval. The only thing the young girl craved was acceptance. She wanted Eileen to be proud of the working woman, to rejoice in her accomplishments, not reject them. She tried to remember when this change occurred, when brown eyes raged with disapproval rather than motherly love, but came up empty. It had to have been a slow change, a mild transition between polar opposites as Mallory began thinking for herself and aspiring to be more than a housewife, more than her mother's expectations of both daughters.

Ted's indifference for sex was another thing bothering the brunette. When they returned to their small, cottage style house, Ted made his way to the kitchen while Mallory showered. She wanted nothing more than to wash away the interaction with her mother and guests. Mallory was in no way a germaphobe, but there was only so many handshakes and hugs she could take, especially from men with sweaty underarms that felt the need to hold her longer than socially acceptable.

She had returned to their bedroom to find Ted perched in bed, nose in a book. Like a cat, she dropped the towel covering her and prowled up his legs, doing everything physically possible to arouse him. His first response was "Honey, I'm so tired", followed by, "Is it okay if you do the work". Unusual but needing release, Mallory did what she needed to do and laid on her side of the bed, mind burdened with the possibility of an affair.

She was unsure why her mind assumed the worst and tried not to give the idea a second thought. But as she watched the cleaning crew move about, she imagined a moving crew in their place, an affair, and divorce.

"Get a grip," she murmured, low and to herself, pushing off the wall. Ocean eyes scanned over the room once more, looking for something to busy herself with, but coming up empty handed.

Stalking to the wall phone, she dialed Jennifer's number with bated breath.

"Hello?" She almost sounded busy, answering with a huff and background noise of her toddler's cries

"Hey, wanna do lunch?"

"Sis," and god, Mallory knew that tone, loathed that tone. "I really--"

"Oh no," she played off, a smile on pursed lips as if her sister was before her, "it's okay. I'll see you Thursday for dinner."

She hung up without another word, exhaling heavily. Glancing down, she noticed the smeared numbers on her skin and dialed them, hoping that the three wasn't actually an eight or nine. Her stomach flipped at every dial tone.

"Trombly residence."

"Good morning, is Gwendoline there?"

"Speaking."

"It's Mallory," she stated, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "I was calling to see if you were busy today?"

Her voice went from formal to chipper, raising an octave. "No, not at all. Taking me up on my offer already?"

Mallory laughed. "I am. Where would you like to meet?"

"Tyler's cafe on 11th street, one hour. See you there, darling."

The brunette blinked as the line went dead, astonished and relieved with the straightforward woman. She saw herself in some of Gwendoline's personality--polished, go-getting, and knowing what she wants. Perhaps that was why she wanted to entertain the idea of befriending the woman, despite the unfamiliar territory. That, and she needed more company. Sure, she had friends, plenty between her and Ted, but she wanted someone that only belonged to her. Someone that understood the world she lived in but spoke to her like a person, not a politician or wife. She hoped to find this in the blonde.

She rang her assistant, asking Tonia to supervise, and gave everything a once over. Satisfied, she walked out and made the journey to 11th street. Traffic was disgusting, per usual, and Mallory wanted to slam her head into the steering wheel every time a driver cut her off and blared their horn as if it were her fault. She kept a level head, letting the soft hum of music control her temper and maintain her sanity. As her car slowed to the cafe, she hummed in appreciation at the off-street parking and empty parking spaces. Tyler's was either a usually slow cafe, or their meeting was between usually busy hours.

The inside was quaint, reminding her of a home rather than coffee shop. Wooden chairs were pulled up to matching, short tables, eight in total. There were two rooms, one primarily for sitting and chatting, and the other for ordering preparation. The register was placed above a long, glass case filled with pastries and muffins, a tip jar beside it.

The only occupants in the cafe were the staff and an elderly man, mug on the table and newspaper in his hands. Mallory checked her watch, noting that she was right on time.

Deciding to order without Gwendoline, she asked for a large, caramel latte with extra foam and a bagel. She tipped the sweet, blond barista three dollars when he delivered her drink and promised to return with the bagel and cream cheese. Delicious foam and caramel wafted out of the lid making the brunette's mouth water. She moaned in appreciation after her first sip and went for her second when Gwen's voice called her name.

She greeted her with a smile, sitting at a table for two and waiting for the older woman to order. Her bagel came after, warm and generously smothered with cream cheese, but she assumed it rude to begin eating without the rest of the party.

Taking in her guest, Mallory hummed in appreciation. Gwen looked nice, light denim jeans and red, striped turtleneck adorning her. Sleek and practical, the brunette was slightly jealous at how easily she could pull off the outfit. She wouldn't dare wear another turtleneck for fear of being mocked for the illusion of a small neck.

The blonde woman joined her with a smile, setting the steaming cup in front of her. "I have to say, I'm still quite surprised to have received your call so early." Gwendoline smirked.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Oh no," Gwendoline teased, teeth bared in a smile. "You're just a curious thing."

"I could say the same of you."

"Perhaps."

Bright eyes honed in as an ivory mug was pressed against lips painted in satin red, shamelessly admiring the contrast and delicacy of it. Mal pulled herself away from the action, shooting her gaze to her bagel before indulging in it.

"I assumed you were a woman who obsesses over herself," the blonde murmured, receiving the brunette's attention mid-bite. "Thankfully, I'm proven wrong."

Gooey, cream cheese was swallowed quickly. "Your assumptions have no ground." Mallory bit back with a playful tone.

"Then give me something to stand upon."

It was simple, but oh, how it twisted the latter's stomach and burned her throat. She was no longer a naive, young girl. Her trust was not passed around like a communal cup, allowing every sinner to drink and take a piece of her with them. No, she was not a piece of meat that had been tenderized and made chewable. The brunette was tougher. She had grown calloused skin around her, a make-shift armor to protect her from thieves that threatened to pillage her. She did not give herself freely, did not offer samples, but offered a small portion of herself after the required price was paid. Tit for tat, her trust for another's.

"What do you mean by, obsessing over myself," she offered, attempting to direct the conversation and maintain an ounce of control.

Gwendoline must have allowed it. "I know many women that refuse to eat as you do—that believe indulgence in delicious fruits is a luxury they cannot afford. Women who try to maintain an unhealthy appearance of perfection, women who deny themselves. You are not one of them."

She let the words sink in, mulling them over in her mouth like a floral wine, until she was ready to respond. "My indulgence is different than most."

"Perhaps, but different is good—interesting even."

"Speaking of interesting," Mallory transitioned, "how did you and William meet?"

Gwen's eyes glittered with amusement, as if she had expected Mal to ask that exact question at that exact time. It twisted her stomach in an unexplainable way, anxiety and excitement tangoing around her intestines.

"At a party, of sorts," she explained, "I had gone through a break-up and decided to treat myself. He caught my eye, sitting at the bar with a few guys and girls, so I introduced myself. Now we're here."

And the age difference doesn't bother you? Mallory refrained from asking, not comfortable enough with their relationship to ask such a personal question. She hummed her response, taking a sip from her latte and relishing the taste.

"It seems fair for you to answer as well." Mirth and teasing laced in the blonde's words.

"Ted's parents were family friends. We went to the same high school, and soon enough he asked me on a date--"

"Where?"

"A diner--Kelly's, specifically."

"And he picked you up."

"He did."

Gwendoline grinned like a cat, causing pink to brush over Mallory's cheeks.

"I wasn't naive--I knew what could happen once we were done, so I made the first move."

"And?"

The blonde was all ears, encouraging any uncensored details, but Mallory shrugged it off. She had a feeling that if she left her hanging, they would do this more often. Gwen would become a confidante.

"And, he walked me to my door and kissed me goodnight."

The brunette was tickled pink at the other's response--slight confusion and a small burst of laughter. She had played her cards right, and pride swelled her heart.

"I'm so very sure that we will become the best of friends," Gwendoline assured, lips curling before sipping from her coffee.

Raising a glass in agreement, Mallory mirrored the woman's actions, and soon enough they were further engulfed in conversation until a concession of harsh beeps broke them up. Mallory scavenged for her pager, the object having taken refugee in a crevice of her purse. She excused herself once she found it, asking the sweet barista to use the phone and dialing her assistant's number.

Manicured nails tapped against the table in sessions of four, waiting for the dial tones.

"This is Tonia," came from the other end.

"What did you need?'

Mallory was uncharacteristically short, usually attempting to refrain from subjecting her assistant to that, but could not help the annoyance vibrating in her. She and Gwen were having a marvelous time, and she swore that if this wasn't an emergency, she would not be too friendly.

She had hired Tonia with the assurance that she was capable and fairly independent so long as she knew what to do--the exact reason she had hired her. Thus far, it had rang true. The young woman had preformed well and proved herself competent, but there were days that Mallory had doubts, specifically the days in which she had to remind her of her responsibilities while Mallory ran Ted's campaign.

"Everything at the hall has been taken care of, but Mr. Morgan is requesting you at his office as soon as possible."

"Concerning what?"

"I'm not sure, he didn't say. I'm sorry to interrupt you—"

"No, no," Mal rolled her eyes, glad no one was paying attention to her, least she be seen as a stuck-up bitch. "Finish what you need to, and I'll be there. Thank you."

She hung up without another word and froze when a fingers grasped her shoulder. Turning around to see a sympathetic blonde, she offered a smile. "I'm sorry, I have to leave."

"I assumed," Gwendoline chuckled. "We must do this again, and soon. It was a pleasure, Mallory."

"Indeed it was."