Chapter 40
40
Jake stood in the background and watched Molly hurry through the airport terminal to the luggage pickup area. Dressed for winter travel in a long mustard-colored coat and suede boots, and with her hair skimming her shoulders, she looked as stunning as ever, but there was a weariness in her expression that he hadn’t seen in a while.
He’d contemplated this moment many times throughout the day, wondering if he still had a chance to rekindle what they’d had. While dining with his parents the night before, he’d admitted he was in love with Molly, and was shocked by how understanding his mother seemed.
Later, when they were alone in the kitchen, his father’s only piece of advice was, “Don’t mess this up,” followed by an affectionate punch on the arm.
Jake approached her and placed a hand on the small of her back. “Can I help you with your bag?”
She spun around as if in fright and frowned. “Jake! What are you doing here?”
“Just a pickup.”
“Oh, okay.” She looked him up and down. “How are you?”
“Pretty good. And you?”
“I’m fine.” Molly stepped forward, pulled a suitcase off the carousel, and extended its handle. She glanced past him as if looking for someone. “Anyway, I should head outside. CeCe’s probably parked in the five-minute zone.”
“She’s not coming.”
“Sorry?”
He chuckled and shook his head, then reached for her case and motioned for her to go ahead. “You’ve had a haircut.”
Molly ran her fingers through her long bob. “Wait. You’re my ride?”
“Yes. Is that okay?” He started walking toward the main doors, Molly scrambling to keep up.
“Where’s CeCe?”
“She’s busy. You hungry?” He glanced over his shoulder before crossing the short-term pickup area and heading into the main parking lot.
“Why, did you bring éclairs?”
“No, but we could grab a pizza at Gino’s.” Jake stopped at the passenger door of his truck and opened it for her. “I’d like to talk to you about next year.”
“Next year?” She frowned and shook her head. “Sorry, have I missed something here?”
“Hopefully. Hop in.”
They traveled around the marina, past the container port, and into the city end of Seaview Road. And as the Gino’s Pizzeria sign came into view, Jake pulled into a parking space several doors down and cut the engine.
He glanced Molly’s way, thinking how her new haircut suited her stunning bone structure. Was this her breakup bob because of him? Out with the old, in with the new?
Jake opened his door. “Shall we?”
The owner, an Italian woman named Luna, greeted them warmly as they walked inside. They sat in a booth adjacent to the bar, some guy crooning about getting misty-eyed over a girl playing softly in the background.
The aroma of Italian food wafted around them and as Jake ordered a margherita pizza and two piccolos of dry rosé, he noticed how Molly sat slightly forward in her chair. She seemed nervous, but he couldn’t tell why.
As he smiled across the table at her, she smoothed her hair away from her face and cast her gaze around the room.
“So, why the haircut?”
Molly sat back now and returned this smile while she waited for the server to pour their wine and leave. “I just felt like a change.”
“From me?”
“You flatter yourself.” She paused, the smile holding. “But, okay. Well, more from the associated drama that you’re infamous for.”
Jake swirled the wine in his glass and took a sip as candle wax dripped onto the table from a repurposed wine bottle. “Ah, the saga of Hazel Sinclair and Alexia Cunningham. Actually, I thought about the two of them a lot while I was in France.”
“And how was your internal narrator? Reliable?”
Jake chuckled. Along with the obvious, he’d missed that about Molly—her quick wit and slow smile. “Not entirely. Mind you, I had no idea about Alexia and her dealings at that stage.”
“So you’ve heard about that?”
“Yes, she wanted me to post bail.”
“And did you?”
“Hell no. Her father relented in the end.”
“She bailed, no pun intended, me up in a cafe recently. Wanted to apologize for her outburst at the office and went on to interrogate me about you and Ava. She’s been so very concerned for me, hon.”
Molly’s impression of Alexia was spot-on, and Jake failed to conceal his amusement. “I bet she has. Did you tell her to eff off?”
“Only in my head.”
“How did she know I’d seen Ava, anyway?”
“I’ve no idea.” She shrugged and slowly sipped her wine. “Maybe your mother told her.”
They sat in comfortable silence, Jake studying her in the candlelight. That flawless, pale skin, impressive bone structure, and full, kissable lips. If he let his imagination run just a little bit wilder, he’d almost be able to taste her.
As if she’d read his mind, Molly leaned forward and murmured, “You understand, don’t you… why I needed space?”
Noticing the server approached their table—pizza held aloft—Jake delayed his response.
“One margherita?”
“That’s us,” Jake said.
“Enjoy your meal.”
He motioned for Molly to help herself, giving him a moment longer to consider her words. Because while he did understand, that didn’t mean he liked it. His internal narrator may have been unreliable about many things, but it had been clear on that one point. “I understand why. So, has time done its thing yet?”
“Isn’t it strange how that’s a universal belief? That time heals all wounds?”
“You don’t hold that view?”
“Not really. We live life in vivid color, not black and white.”
Molly picked up her slice, curled it inward, and took a bite. He’d never been turned on by watching a woman eat before, but as she sucked a finger into her mouth, he couldn’t help but stare.
“Anyway. What’s this about next year?”
Jake hesitated. It might have been the time to discuss the London offer, but it wasn’t the place. “Let’s finish our meal first, then we can talk.”
“Okay.” Once again, she cast her eyes around the busy restaurant. “Can we order dessert later? I haven’t had tiramisu in weeks.”
“We can do anything we want.”
Back in the truck, Jake drove along Seaview Road, past the arts center, and parked alongside the entrance to the sunken garden. Molly was out of the truck before he had the chance to open her door, and as he followed her down the steps, the place was deserted.
With a slight wind drifting off the bay, Jake buttoned his jacket against the cold and slipped his hands into his pockets, and as they strolled along the graveled paths, mood lighting illuminating the way, neither of them spoke for a while.
“When we met at the party the other night, how did you feel?” he asked eventually.
She stopped and turned to look at him, her scarf pulled tightly around her neck and a puzzled frown on her face. “Confused.”
“Ah, there’s that word again.”
They fell into step, the waves a background murmur as he took her hand. When they reached a two-seater bench beside a modernist water feature, Jake motioned for them to sit.
They sat in silence, both with their hands in their pockets, but still close enough for Jake to feel her warmth.
He turned to face her. “What were you confused about?”
“Us. We should never have gone into that office.”
“You’re right, but, shit, I can’t stop thinking about it.”
A slow smile enhanced her features. Had she thought about it as much as he had? Dreamed of the next time he’d touch her? Even now, he couldn’t shake the frustration he’d felt ever since, both physically and mentally.
Fireworks!
“I really missed you while you were away,” Molly said. “But you and me… it all seemed to happen so fast, like you crashed onto the shore of my life, and just as quickly, the tide took you away again.”
“And now that I’m back?”
“It’s complicated.” She shifted in her seat. “And before you tell me about your plans for next year, I’m pretty sure I know what you’re going to say.”
“And what’s that?”
“You’re returning to Paris, aren’t you?”
Jake hesitated. The direction of his life now hung in the balance, and only Molly could tip the scales either way. This might be his last chance to convince her that they had a future together.
“Not Paris. But I’ve been offered a job in the UK… managing a new place in London for a friend. It’s just for a year.”
She stared straight ahead. “And will you take it?”
“I’m not sure yet. Depends on how things pan out here.”