>Mallory
I was pacing across the room like an anxious cat, biting my fingernails raw while my heart thudded against my ribs as if trying to escape.
Anxiety crawled like smoke through every corner of my mind. I came to this country and took the job without a concrete plan, and now my bare feet clicked across the marbled floor, the sound sharp and frantic. Mara followed me with her gaze from the sofa, where she lounged cross-legged as if she were watching a mildly entertaining movie instead of my impending emotional collapse.
This morning—during breakfast, of all times—she had dropped a casual bomb the way some people commented on weather.
"Oh, I don't think simply crashing the wedding would work," she had said while sipping her coffee. "They'll arrest you and go on with their day. I'll gladly bail you out of prison though."
I'd nearly choked on my toast.
Now I stopped pacing and glared at her, hands on my hips. "You realize you're too late in informing me, right?"
