Chapter 20
MOLLY
In their latest update, Peter and Chris showcased their couple at the animal rescue where they’d adopted their puppy. Twenty of the most adorable pokey little puppies snuggled and played with the couple.
Molly had been more focused on the real estate listing price drop for the house she’d been monitoring.
Her focus split from the contest; Molly had to do some serious triage. An impromptu update today, after she got her hair and makeup done. The tactic appeared to have worked. She checked the most recent voting stats for the
competition. Looked good. Still rising. Almost tipping her into the first place slot, but not quite.
Did this mean she should send them a gift basket?
She should’ve done the update with Gavin instead of alone. But she didn’t want to reach out to him to hurry over so he could be on camera with her. Didn’t want to impose further than she already had. Because Gavin was meant for someone else.
Molly understood this. She’d seen firsthand the flare of a spark between Gavin and Cassidy. How uniquely perfect they were for each other.
Watched him deny it.
Hell, she’d even participated in his denial. Kissed him like a star-crossed lover in a Shakespearean play.
Unfortunately, at the end of that particular play, everyone bit it.
Which was why she was wrong. Why he was wrong. Why she should have insisted he step toward the correct future with Cassidy, not whatever this was they had.
But she’d gotten greedy.
And then she’d gotten needy.
And then they’d gotten hot and heavy in that corner booth.
And. She’d. Enjoyed. It.
Dammit, Gavin wasn’t supposed to be a good kisser.
And she wasn’t supposed to be into it.
And now? She didn’t know what she was supposed to
do.
So, she did the only thing she could… She zipped the
back of her evening gown all the way up.
Yep, tonight was gala night.
“Gavin and Travis are on their way.” Rachel swished into the room in her own gown. She’d gone with red, because Rachel could pull off red.
Molly could only pull off red lipstick. “Yay.” Molly mocked her enthusiasm.
“You’re thinking about way too much again.” Rachel stopped at the mirror, pinched her cheeks to bring the color to the surface—which wasn’t needed because her color was spot on.
“I’m always thinking about way too much.” Hey, it was the truth.
“Then we need to make that stop.” Rachel grabbed her clutch.
Molly grabbed hers off her dresser and started stuffing it with everything she’d need.
Her emergency mascara, a little fabric tape in case she had a wardrobe malfunction, and an extra pair of panties because she learned her lesson at the wedding and, though she didn’t plan on needing them, she’d figured out the hard way not to be caught without.
Her phone chimed as she shoved it in the purse. She glanced to her lit-up cell screen.
Gavin: On my way.
Instead of responding, she stuck the phone in her purse and grabbed her shoes.
Gavin had texted her in the days since their… Gah.
What did she even call it?
He’d even used appropriate emojis. They’d actually talked on the phone once—to plan their next Agnes and Charlie outing. And to connect.
That’s really why they’d talked.
But the next Agnes and Charlie date wasn’t for a few more days. They were all going to Agnes’s favorite knitting store for a lesson.
Charlie said he’d watch while they figured out the stitches and knots.
Molly actually looked forward to it. Not that she was a knitter. She was more of a tryer, but her sweaters always turned out lopsided.
No, she looked forward to it because it would be time spent with Gavin instead of time staring at a house she was only yay-far from being able to afford.
Gavin in her life felt normal. Too normal. Too comfortable.
Which felt wrong. Totally wrong. So wrong it made her itchy all over.
“Thinking again,” Rachel said, singsong.
She pulled a small shooter of watermelon flavored vodka from her clutch.
“This will help.” Rachel handed it over. “It makes it so you don’t think at all.”
Molly shook her head, handing it back. “That is not the best idea.”
“Give me one good reason?” Rachel asked, not taking the liquor.
“I have to walk in stilettos.” Molly held up the shoes in question. She could not get blitzed. Heck, she couldn’t even get tipsy in these things. It was definitely not a watermelon vodka night. It was more like a seltzer water with a splash of cranberry juice night.
Instead of focusing on how hard it would be to walk
in stilettos after Rachel’s happy juice, she tucked the tiny bottle into her purse and focused on her dress—perfection in sequins.
She’d found it in one of those upscale, secondhand thrift shops that carried designer labels. Even half off, the thing cost a fortune. But she’d put aside enough money to make the purchase. Then she hung it in the back of her closet and hoped. Hoped that someday she’d get to wear it.
Today was someday. Thankfully, it still fit.
Silver sequins on white silk, a slit up to her right thigh and stilettos she’d bought to match.
She’d even sprung to have her hair professionally styled, her curls wrangled into a sleek twist that totally hid the way they liked to get outrageously frizzy later in the day.
Red lipstick. A whole lotta sequins. And hair that didn’t look like she’d stuck her finger in an electric socket. And Oliver was with friends.
“Why do you carry shooters of liquor in your purse, anyway?” Molly asked.
Rachel gave her a look like she’d dropped her marbles on the carpet of her bedroom. “Evelyn and her damn doesn’t-exist cat.”
Rachel pulled a second one from her purse, cracked open the lid and took a little sip. “And it’s difficult to carry a flask into the ballrooms at these things. But these little guys”—she held up the tiny bottle and gave it a shake—“fit perfectly in my clutch or my cleavage.”
“How many do you have in there?” Molly should look; she should probably even confiscate some of them. For the sake of Tomorrow Rachel, who would appreciate not being
hungover.
“Enough,” Rachel said. “I have enough to get through a night like this with my mother-in-law.”
“Don’t they serve cocktails at these things?” Molly figured there would at least be a champagne fountain. What good was a black tie event without a champagne fountain?
“Oh, there are drinks.” Rachel sashayed toward the door to the hallway. “But I like to be extra prepared, just in case.”
“You’re channeling your inner Kaiya?” Molly confirmed, following her.
“Yup.” Rachel nodded. “It’s best not to find yourself unprepared around Evelyn. Or her cat.” The last part was whispered.
“Good to know,” Molly murmured.
“Do you have plans for after the event?” Rachel asked as she trotted down the stairs—she’d not gone with high heels.
“Just to come home.”
“Nothing else?” Rachel turned to Molly, nonchalant, like she wasn’t prying.
“Not as of now.” Molly rolled her eyes.
Since Travis and Rachel were also attending the event, the boys were all spending the night at a friend’s house. There was a promise of soda and pizza and a late-night movie.
Ollie wouldn’t be home until well into the afternoon tomorrow.
Which meant…Molly could spend the night with Gavin. If he wanted to. And she wanted to. And they wanted to, together.
Just because she could spend the night with him didn’t mean she would.
Could and would were, absolutely, two separate things. Just because she could, didn’t mean she should. You know?
She wouldn’t.
Oh, boy, no, she wouldn’t.
She’d take her Cinderella night with the dress and the shoes and the hair, and she’d enjoy it. Then she’d set Gavin free to roam with Cassidy—like she should’ve done before. Like they were destined.
Guilt gnawed at her stomach. The guilt of knowledge that this was a night she straight up stole from another woman.
But Cassidy could have the rest of her life with Gavin. Molly got tonight. Yes, Molly got tonight.
She marched down the stairs, shoes in hand, pausing at the front door before slipping them on her feet.
The first rule of any knock-off relationship was not to develop feelings for the other person. Everyone knew this, even those who weren’t paid dating gurus like Molly.
When those lines blurred, things got messy. Like life.
She needed to remember that. Make a mental note on a Post-It and stick it to her palm so she wouldn’t forget.
Heaving a breath, she stepped out the door just as a stretch limousine curved around the corner.
She took the porch steps slower because she was wearing wicked high shoes. Also, the dress was not the kind of garment a girl could sprint in. Heck, she could barely saunter in the thing.
But what it lacked in wiggle room, it made up for in gorgeous designer goodness.
The limo pulled up to her curb, just as she’d expected.
Gavin emerged from the back. Again, just as expected. He even wore a tuxedo. She was beginning to really like tuxedos.
All of that was expected.
The large velvet box in his hand, however, was not expected.
She hadn’t been serious about the Pretty Woman jewelry rental schtick.
“Please tell me you have a candy necklace in that thing,” she said, pulling the picket-fence gate closed behind her, as Travis helped Rachel into the back of the limo.
“It’s not Skittles, I can tell you that.” He gave her a tip to toe appraisal, stopping briefly at her chest and hips in a way that was not creepy, but really rather flattering.
Like the dress.
“You did good, Molly,” he said, low and husky in a way that made the dress worth every overpriced penny she’d spent on it.
Her cheeks heated. “Thank you. You look good, too.”
“Good” being the least appropriate word ever for how
he looked. Yummy? Delicious? Much more appropriate. “Is this a new tux?” She reached for his lapel, smoothing the satin-lined fabric with her fingertips.
“The other had to be retired.” He frowned. “I tried to save it, but only so much could be done.”
“You don’t seem like a quitter to me.” She crossed her arms. “You just gave up on it?”