Chapter 35 Molly
Molly
I’m not going to lie. Even though I’ve known Clara for months now, and I’ve met Alex multiple times, both in passing at the farm and at the occasional social event, it’s still surreal—and very cool—hanging out with them.
I’d like to think I’m not a total groupie.
Plenty of celebrities pass through the farm.
Evelyn runs in seriously A-list circles and was regular tabloid fodder when she was married to her famous ex, the chef Seb Macleod.
Although she and Angus live far more under the radar down here in deepest Kent, her celebrity friends are constantly visiting and throwing parties here.
Even so, it still amazes me that my beautiful, creative friend Clara, who’s happiest holding either a camera or a paintbrush, is married to Alex Molloy, celebrity personal trainer and bona fide national treasure.
He holds a special place in the heart of the British public, not just because of his commitment to the wellbeing of the poorest segments of our population, but because of his relentless efforts in prison reform and rehabilitation, especially regarding young people.
And of course, none of us can resist a good old love story, especially when it has a happy ending. When Alex and Clara told their tale of love and loss and happiness, the nation swooned and doubled down on its Alex-mania.
All of which makes it okay, I think, to feel the slightest bit weird about going to their house for Sunday lunch.
Add to that the fact that Max is invited.
Neither of us has any illusions about the ulterior motive here.
On the face of it, the Molloys have invited us over for a family get-together with Clara’s kids and with Ned, Sadie and baby Isabelle.
But I know they have a plan. And that plan is to meddle in my and Max’s relationship.
These two are the poster children for second chances, and they won’t rest until we’ve marched down the aisle, just like they did.
None of which makes me nervous in the slightest…
I’ve filled both Clara and Sadie in on the latest developments, on my and Max’s fledgling plans to make a go of this.
They know it’s serious.
They know my kids are currently oblivious.
And it’s far better for me to go into the lunch-slash-ambush knowing that they’re fully briefed and unlikely to commit any faux pas about our relationship in front of Toby and Daisy.
When I say Alex and Clara’s house out in the Hildenborough countryside is sublime, that’s a gross understatement.
It’s called Skuytercliff, and Clara’s told me previously that Alex named it after a country retreat in her favourite book, The Age of Innocence.
The two star-crossed protagonists had spent a brief amount of time there, and apparently the heroine declared it the only house in America where she could imagine being perfectly happy.
Oh, and Alex named his house before he’d even taken a chance on Clara and her kids moving in with him.
I mean, come on.
No wonder the guy is a national treasure.
Clara had a far tougher time than me. She had to gather up the courage to leave her ex-husband, a guy who, by all accounts, turned pretty nasty.
My kids and I have already been abandoned.
All I have to do is take a leap of faith on Max.
Believe him when he says he wants to commit fully to my children.
We crunch up the gravel driveway to Skuytercliff, a spectacular Georgian manor, the pillars of whose porch are bedecked with twisting green garlands and twinkling white lights.
When we enter the house, there’s more of the same.
A bloody massive tree in the large square hallway.
The scent of cloves and oranges everywhere.
A general impression of height and space and seriously good taste.
Clara, her feline Italian looks heightened in a fabulous scarlet dress.
And Alex, an apron covering his crisp blue shirt, his shaven head showcasing bone structure so sharp it should be illegal, and his improbably green eyes hard to look away from, especially against his flawless, mocha-coloured skin.
The son of a Dominican mother and Irish father, he’s not merely the product of a spectacular gene-pool but an excellent advertisement for his healthy lifestyle.
‘Welcome, guys,’ he says, kissing me on both cheeks and shaking Max’s hand heartily. ‘Come in, come in. The nut roast is nearly ready.’
Max’s face falls, and Clara creases up with laughter.
‘I told him to say that—I couldn’t resist. Don’t worry, we’re having porchetta. Fiori family recipe.’
‘Her mum was here all morning, overseeing my stuffing efforts,’ Alex grumbles as he leads us through to the stunning, light-filled drawing room.
Clara slaps him lightly on the bum. ‘You know you love being a part of the Fiori family.’
Alex mutters something that sounds very rude as he grabs a champagne bottle from an enormous, fully stocked champagne bucket. No healthy living for us today, then.
Toby and Daisy are in their element. Initially, Toby is so in awe of Alex, whose kids’ workout videos he sometimes follows at school, that he can’t do anything but stare worshipfully at him.
‘I think you chose the wrong potential stepfather for Tobes,’ Max mutters ruefully in my ear, and I giggle.
‘I’m pretty sure Alex is taken. And I’m sure if you do some shirt-off push-ups in the kitchen, you’ll win Toby over with your incredible physical prowess.’
‘And his mother, hopefully.’ Max gives my bum a cheeky squeeze.
‘I’m already way over the line,’ I tell him, my voice a little husky at the look in his eyes. I pat my hair. I have it in a fishtail plait today. Daisy calls it my ‘Elsa hair’, which seems appropriate.
My kids are also ecstatic to be taken under the wings of Violet and Charlie, Clara’s sweet fourteen-year-old twins.
They whisk my two away to what is apparently a fabulous and totally gratuitous teen space Alex created for them in the attic, leaving us adults and baby Isabelle, who is delicious and has luckily inherited her father’s quiet, easy-going nature.
Ned and Alex aren’t the most obvious pairing, at first glance. Alex is the reformed and wildly successful former bad boy who’s never denied his council-estate roots nor his time behind bars, while Ned went to Princeton on a swim scholarship and is a self-confessed nerd of the highest order.
But they’ve become firm friends, thanks to their wives, and it becomes clear, as we sip champagne and chat in front of the roaring fire in its huge hearth, that they have more in common than is initially obvious.
That is, they’re both thoroughly decent guys who have both feet firmly on the ground.
Oh, and I’m not sure I’ve seen two men more smitten with their wives.
Daisy and Toby aren’t the only ones overwhelmed by the Molloy household.
Max is quiet at first, but Alex and Ned’s easy friendliness soon draws him in, and I overhear them animatedly discussing the Premier League while Alex and Max take turns to smile and wave at Isabelle, bouncing happily in her father’s arms.
As I chat to Clara and Sadie, I can’t resist surreptitious glances at our menfolk. It’s surreal, in the most thrilling way possible, to think that this could be our future.
That Max and I could be a real, live couple. Out in the open. Hanging out with our friends on a Sunday while our children all play together happily.
Maybe it’s the half-glass of champagne I’ve already ingested.
Maybe it’s the novelty of being out for a smart Sunday lunch.
Maybe it’s how bloody gorgeous he’s looking today, in a pressed white shirt under a navy blazer, his stubble the perfect length for my fingernails.
I don’t know.
But I do know that, as I stand here, I want this future with him very, very much.
So much it practically steals the breath from my lungs.
The weight of my stare must be pretty heavy, because he glances over and catches my eye, and the sight of that face breaking out into a smile is spectacular.
That’s all I want. That he smiles at me like that every day.
‘When you’ve finished eye-fucking your delicious dream-boat over there,’ Sadie purrs next to me, ‘you can tell us how it’s going.’
I tear my gaze away from Max. Sadie wiggles her eyebrows at me suggestively.
My cheeks heat. I’ve been busted. ‘Sorry.’ I sigh. ‘I can’t help it.’
‘No judgement here,’ Clara says. ‘How hot are our menfolk? It’s ridiculous.’
‘It really is,’ Sadie says.
‘I have zero concerns in that department,’ I admit. ‘I mean, look at him. He’s gorgeous. It’s just—I feel so responsible for Toby and Daisy. It seems so overwhelming that I not only have to find a guy I’m crazy about, but also someone who’ll make the perfect stepfather. The pressure’s insane.’
While Sadie scrunches her face up in sympathetic agreement, Clara puts a hand on my arm.
‘Don’t forget, it’s a work in progress. You can’t expect him to be an amazing dad right from the get-go. You also can’t expect him to be instantly as head over heels in love with your kids as you are. Nor should they love him as much as they love you, or their father. Not for a while, anyway.’
‘You’re right.’ Her words make sense. I haven’t thought about it like that. Maybe my expectations are unrealistic. ‘I suppose it really is a work in progress.’
‘Very much so.’ She nods vehemently, like she’s desperate to get her point across.
‘Honestly, it’s a miracle anyone ever manages to make a go of it second time around.
There is a leap of faith involved, and it feels so wrong to be putting your own happiness first. God, the guilt I felt over breaking up our family and pulling Violet and Charlie into a whole new life with a new man was excruciating. ’
‘How did you find the strength to make the move?’ I ask.
Her voice is quiet. ‘Because, deep down, I knew Alex was a better man than Jeremy. That he’d be a better role model for my kids.
That was all I could do, really—take a view on his integrity, and his character, and believe him when he said he’d do everything in his power to make them happy.
’ She shrugs. ‘And he has. It helps that they knew who he was, from YouTube I mean, and that he went to so much effort to make this place an incredible home for them.
‘But honestly, that’s all you can do with Max.
Ask yourself if he makes you happy, and if he has the right set of values to expose your children to, and whether you can see the beginnings of a good relationship between them, even if it’s not fully fledged yet.
Because there aren’t any shortcuts. It’s just about him showing up for them every day—in that respect, it’s exactly the same as being their biological parent. ’
Clara’s right. She’s completely right, of course.
I can’t expect Max to fall head over heels in love with my children overnight and instantly transform into a father figure.
All I can ask myself is whether he’s a good man.
Whether he’s committed to me, and Toby, and Daisy.
Whether I can see the foundation of a healthy, joyful relationship between him and them, even at this early stage.
And the answer to all those questions is a tentative, quiet, hopeful yes.
MAX
‘So she’s still the one?’ Alex jerks his head in Molly’s direction. ‘Or should I say, she’s the one again?’
So far, I’ve been impressed by Alex. I wasn’t sure what to expect—he always seemed like a decent bloke on TV and in the press—but he’s quieter, more genuine, more humble than I would have imagined.
I glance over at my beautiful girlfriend, whose long, soft forest-green dress showcases her peaches-and-cream complexion and incredible golden hair.
Hair only I get to see in its true glory, lucky motherfucker that I am.
She takes my breath away. Dragging my gaze away from her, I shoot Alex a sheepish grin.
‘Still, mate. Still. That much was obvious as soon as I laid eyes on her.’
‘Yeah.’ He nods slowly. Those famous eyes that even I can admit are arresting seem to drill into my soul.
‘I know how that feels. I saw Clara after twenty-one years, and it was an out-of-body experience. You have to go after her, if she’s who you want to grow old with. Don’t let her out of your clutches.’
I laugh. ‘Looks like I should follow your advice. You guys definitely got your happy ending.’
‘No, man. I nearly fucked it up so badly. Didn’t have the confidence to ask her to give everything up for me. I was dealing with a lot of shit, and I nearly let her slip through my fingers. Didn’t think I deserved her. Thank fuck I got my act together and took the leap.’
I stare at him. I hadn’t realised that. I assumed they’d seen each other again, and the rest was history. But I can relate. I let out a long breath before replying.
‘Yeah, I know how that feels, especially when there are kids involved. I really, really want to make a go of it with Mol, and with Daisy and Toby, but unfortunately we split up first time around because I didn’t want kids, and now I’m not sure she believes me when I say I’m ready to step up.’
Alex and Ned both suck in a sympathetic breath.
‘Honestly, mate, actions speak louder than words,’ Alex says. ‘Don’t tell her. Show her. And don’t take no for an answer. You just have to step up, day after day. It’s as easy and difficult as that.
‘Yeah, it’s tough doing the stepdad thing. Fucking terrifying, actually. And yeah, I ended up having step kids because the woman I loved was a mother, but I love it. I love them far more than I could ever, ever have imagined. It’s brought me back to life, having the three of them around me.’
I regard him thoughtfully as I hold out my finger for sweet little Isabelle to grab. ‘That’s what I’m counting on.’