Chapter 18
18
With damp hair and face scrubbed clean, Molly stepped through the sliding door to the backyard and sank into a beanbag on the deck. Usually, this was her happy time and place—immediately before dusk, when the afternoon light softened. She gazed up at the sky as rain clouds moved in from the west, filling the air with an anticipated dampness.
What a chaotic day. First, her self-invite to Jake’s mini master class. Next, the contact between them, so close she’d almost heard his heartbeat, and finally, the intrusion of Hazel the Horrible with her holier-than-thou attitude.
Then, that one word: Ava.
A soft breeze filtered through the lacecap hydrangeas, sending goose bumps rippling over Molly’s skin as she replayed their conversation in her mind. He’d hit the nail on the head with his observation. He did confuse her. Now, even more so.
As for Jake’s mother, the emotions currently swamping Molly weren’t so much from hurt as from humiliation. The woman hadn’t even attempted to be civil.
Molly opened her social media and absently scrolled through the day’s posts. When a text alert pinged, she swiped back to her home screen to check her messages.
Jake: I have something for you. Is it OK if I drop it off? I’m at Gloria’s.
Shit! Was he serious?
For a second, she considered ignoring his text, but if he was already at Gloria’s, he’d realize Molly was home, so instead, she scrambled to her feet and hurried inside.
Molly: Sure. I’m at the end of the driveway.
With no time to dress, Molly padded through the kitchen and opened the door just as Jake reached it.
He stood before her, wearing dark jeans and a light, ribbed sweater with sleeves pushed up to the elbows and carrying a handled brown paper bag. “Hi. Cute little setup you have here.” He offered her the bag.
Wonderfully naked underneath her robe, Molly pulled its tie tighter before accepting his gift. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He buried his hands in his pockets. “And I’d like to apologize for my mother’s reaction earlier.”
Molly shrugged. It wasn’t his job to apologize on his mother’s behalf. “There’s no need. I understand where she’s coming from.”
Jake sighed. “Yes, but still…”
“Anyway, thanks for thinking of me. I’d invite you in, but I’m not allowed gentleman callers—Gloria’s rule, not mine.”
“No one’s ever called me a gentleman before, so does that rule still apply?”
She remained in the doorway and studied his expression. Despite her curiosity, there was no need to ask who Ava was. Molly knew the score, and it really wasn’t her place to initiate that conversation. “Even more so.”
“I just don’t want there to be any confusion over what happened at the patisserie.”
“Is that so? Sounds like you’re the one who’s confused, Chef Sinclair, not me.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, Molly?—”
“Nope. I’ve done enough looking for one day.” She stepped back, her hand on the door handle. “Thanks for the gift, but you really should go now if you know what’s good for you.”
He pressed his lips together, suppressing a smile perhaps. “I deserved that.”
“Yes, I think so too. Pleased we’re on the same page. Goodnight.”
Molly closed the door with gentle force. As she heard him walk away, she squeezed her eyes shut and stood for a moment, the brown paper bag clenched in front of her. She knew what would be inside, but right now, Chef Sinclair’s éclairs au chocolat failed to woo her.
Instead, she walked over to the kitchen, placed the bag on the counter, and picked up her phone to call her cousin.
“Hey, you,” CeCe said. “What’s up?”
“I seriously need to sort my shit out.”
“Why, what’s happened now?”
“Well… I almost kissed him. Or rather, he almost kissed me. Well, I got the impression he was going to, anyway.”
“Who?”
“Jake off-limits Sinclair.”
“What stopped you? You’re both adults.”
“Yes, but it’s kinda macabre when you think about it, isn’t it?”
“I guess. So, tell me everything.”
“Well… we were at the patisserie. He was teaching me how to make a sexy choux, and his mother walked in on us. She was horrible. Accused me of trying to drive a wedge between the family and asked how he could do that to Ava.”
“Ava? Who’s Ava?”
“I have no idea. Girlfriend maybe?”
“Oh shit. Are you okay?”
“Embarrassed but fine. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I stay away from unsuitable men?”
“Maybe the attraction’s too strong to resist.”
“I’m a responsible adult. You’d think I’d know better. Do better. Anyway, he called me confused, and if I wasn’t before, I sure am now.”
“I don’t blame you. And what on earth is a sexy choux?”
Molly sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“Clearly. Anyway, how was Tulloch Point?”
“Good. I found a USB stick of photos from my summer with Jesse. They’d make a great photo book for his parents, but after meeting Hazel the Horrible, I’m having second thoughts.”
“Actually, that’s a nice idea. You still should. Be the bigger person.”
“You think?”
“Go on, you can do it.”
They talked for a while longer before saying goodnight. Molly set her phone on the island and opened her laptop.
With the pen drive inserted in the USB port, she scrolled through its contents. Photos of their summer filled the screen: Jesse behind the drums in a rowdy bar, the two of them eating hamburgers out of brown paper, and sitting on the banks of Grant’s Pond, their mountain bikes propped up against a pine tree while they tested the cool water.
But one image in particular really captured his essence—Jesse lying on a towel at the beach, staring into the lens, his look of adoration something she’d failed to register at the time.
As nostalgia warmed her insides, Molly tried to recall that day. They were happy then—enjoying their carefree summer—but even so, in the back of her mind, doubt loomed just out of reach.
Molly closed her laptop and rose from her chair. She’d go through the photos again over the weekend and might even pick a selection for his parents, but that picture would forever remain between just the two of them.
As for Jake, while Molly searched for dinner inspiration among the sparse offerings in her pantry, she tried her hardest not to think about him at all.
Tried and failed.
Restless, Molly opened the brown paper bag, pulled out the small white box, and peeked inside. On top of four uniform chocolate éclairs was a handwritten card that simply said, “ Well done. Enjoy.”
She was in the middle of making some toast when her text alert chimed.
Jake: I was wondering if you’re free for an hour on Saturday. I’d like to talk to you about something.
Puzzled, she stared at her phone as raindrops struck the windowpanes with a soft patter.
Jake: Say 2:45 Saturday afternoon? I’ll pick you up.
An excitement surfaced, not unexpected but, when thinking about it rationally, unwarranted. Somewhere in his world, a woman named Ava lived her life parallel to his. For a moment, Molly considered asking him who she was but quickly decided that subject wasn’t suitable for a text.
Molly: I thought I confused you.
Jake: That’s not what I said and why we need to talk.
Molly: I’ll have to check my diary.
Jake: Sure. Get back to me.
Molly put her phone on to charge. There was no need to open her diary; her Saturdays had been mostly free since moving to Clifton Falls, but she’d wait a few days before getting back to him. She glanced at the bread still sitting in the toaster and sighed. Toast, what toast? It was time to open the cake box.
The éclairs were iced just the way she liked them, with thick chocolate icing, and filled with real whipped cream. Molly selected one and raised it to her lips, and as the pastry melted in her mouth, she had to stop herself from moaning out loud.
The second one was just as good, and by the time she went to bed, all four were gone.
Best freakin’ éclairs ever.