Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Molly
T ell me something that’s better than walking down a sunny street on a day when it’s finally warm enough to wear your favorite spring dress and sandals and a brand-new pedicure on your toes.
You can’t, because there is nothing better.
I’m in a fantastic mood as I open the door to my favorite sandwich shop a couple blocks from the office and get in line.
I blocked a couple hours on my calendar this morning for a little self-care, and it was an excellent decision. It’s amazing what a Pilates class at the humane hour of nine AM, a fresh pink pedicure, and an hour browsing my favorite boutique can do for a girl’s mental health.
Now I’m picking up food and taking it back to the office, where we’re having a big, noisy lunch with the four of us, Allie, and all the guys. It’s been a while since we’ve all been in the same place at the same time since Allie and Jordan couldn’t make it to the party last week. Magically, everyone’s calendars coordinated, and neither Allie nor Jordan is on call today.
A morning of solo fun and then lunch with all my favorite people?
Everything’s coming up, Molly.
I glance into the shopping bag on my arm at the new dress I bought for Saturday night and reluctantly add dinner with Gabe to the list of excellent things in my life. I want to be cautious. I really do. I want to be slow and steady and careful and make him grovel and wait and wonder. But the thing is, slow and steady has never really been my thing.
I’m a love out loud and hug your people tight, burn the expensive candles, and drink the good tequila because today is all we have, kind of girl. Keeping my heart under lock and key for the past ten years has been the most counter-intuitive thing I have ever done, and now that the only person who ever held my heart is back and saying things like without you, I’ve only been living half a life and it’s always been you ?
My heart is rattling its cage, ready to break free and jump straight into his hands.
Every instinct I have is telling me to let it do its thing.
I step up to the counter and place my order, then pay and move to the side to wait. I’m reaching into my bag to grab my Kindle to pass the time when I feel someone behind me. The warm breath that hits my neck has my skin crawling, and I hear the voice before I have a chance to turn around.
“Playing hooky, Molly?”
I spin around and Brad Russell, the nephew of my biggest client, is standing in front of me, deep into my personal space. I barely resist the urge to step back, even though my instincts are screaming at me to get as far away from him as possible. He wants me to be uncomfortable. I’ll be goddammed if I show him that he succeeded. Instead, I level him with a steely gaze.
“What do you want, Brad?”
His smirk is sly and smarmy and matches his slicked back hair, overpowering cologne, and button-down shirt with one too many buttons open. It’s giving entitled aged frat boy who doesn’t understand the meaning of the word no living off daddy’s money, and I am not here for it.
“Hey now, no need to get hostile. Can’t a guy come say hi to his old law school friend? I’m just trying to be polite. Especially since we’re going to be working together. Didn’t my uncle tell you?”
I consider how to respond. What I really want to say is go to hell, Brad, but I also want to know what he knows, so I will myself to be a little more strategic about this.
“Your uncle informed me that a representative of your firm would be at the meeting next week.”
Brad scoffs. “I’m sure he was just trying to protect your feelings and save himself the emotional phone call when you inevitably complained about being pushed aside. Honestly, Molly, did you really think you would just continue to single-handedly represent him from your little firm? Uncle Harvey may have followed you because of that stubborn loyalty streak of his, but you’re the one who decided to leave BigLaw. You can’t possibly expect that your little firm would be able to handle a client of my uncle’s caliber single-handedly. You did fine when you had partners telling you what to do and checking your work but on your own?”
He shakes his head and clucks his tongue at me like he’s scolding a child. I will myself not to knee him in the balls and just be done with it because, honestly, fuck this guy. Instead, I paste on the sweetest smile I can muster, and when I speak, my words drip with honey laced disdain.
“Remind me, Brad, which one of us spent four semesters of law school on academic probation, and which one of us was editor of the law review and graduated summa cum laude? You may be well acquainted with the concept of failing up, but I succeed because I’m smart and dedicated and goddam brilliant at my job, and I know that must just absolutely kill you. So much so that you’re here, telling me all the ways you’re better than I am instead of at your desk actually, you know, being better. You want to go run your mouth to your uncle and tell him all about how Molly hurt your precious, fragile feelings? How he should fire me and hire you? You go right ahead. But you better suit up and figure out what it means to actually work hard instead of breezing through your career, expecting people to keep on handing you things. Because if you come for me, you best not miss.”
Brad’s face is bright red and furious, and I’d take a second to enjoy it, but I need to get away from him, like, yesterday. I turn on my heel and get ready to leave and just have the food I ordered delivered when Brad takes my arm, pulling me back towards him. The move is subtle enough that no one around us would think anything of it, but his grip on my arm means one thing and one thing only.
Don’t you dare walk away from me before I’m done with you .
And I think the fuck not.
“You’re going to want to take your hand off me right the fuck now,” I hiss at him.
He smirks at me and tightens his hold. “Or what?”
I try and pull my arm away, but he just holds me tighter. A frisson of fear snakes up my spine, but I stand my ground. He’s squeezing my arm so tightly now that there’s no way I won’t have a bruise where his hand is, and the thought of him marking me like that enrages me. The time for subtlety is over.
“Or I’ll have you on this floor, holding onto your balls and crying like a baby.”
He sneers at me. “Listen, you feminist harpy bitch?—”
The growl that comes from behind me and cuts Brad off mid-tirade shocks the shit out of me and has his eyes widening. “If you don’t take your hand off my fiancée right the fuck now, I’ll cut it off.”
Brad lets my arm go and I whirl around, coming face-to-face with the angriest version of Gabe I’ve ever seen. He may be sporting a superhero T-shirt with glasses hooked into the collar and sweatpants, but nothing about him right now says geeky casual. His eyes are so filled with fury that I’m surprised they don’t shoot fire, and his hands twitch like he’s restraining himself from punching asshole Brad. His whole demeanor temporarily distracts me from the fact that he just called me his fiancée, and what the fuck is that all about?
Brad holds his hands up. “Look man, I don’t know what you think you saw, but my colleague here and I were just?—”
Brad cuts himself off at whatever look Gabe levels him with.
“Get. The fuck. Out.” Gabe’s voice is low and dangerous, and I guess Brad is just as much of a coward as he is an asshole because without even a single glance at me, he turns and makes a beeline for the exit.
“Come with me, Rory.”
Gabe snakes an arm around my waist and guides me around the corner of the busy restaurant into the hallway where the bathrooms are. I’m too stunned at what just happened to do anything but follow him. He takes the bags off my shoulders and arms and places them on the floor, then picks up the arm Brad was holding and examines the finger shaped bruises already starting to form. His expression is still murderous, but his touch is feather-light, and when he speaks, his tone is soft.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, but Gabe, what the fuck was that?”
“He hurt you.” Gabe’s voice is pained, and he’s still gliding his fingers over my arm as if he can erase the bruises by his touch alone.
“I appreciate the save, but you just called me your fiancée. Your fiancée, Gabe, in front of the nephew of my biggest client. The asshole nephew who is absolutely running to his uncle right now to do some preemptive damage control for himself. And I assure you it won’t come up that Brad had his hands on me. He’ll spin it so I wronged him in some way because he’s an entitled dick bag asshole with well-honed survival instincts he substitutes for hard work and dedication. And my client is an old-fashioned guy’s guy who will probably believe his nephew because bitches be lying, you know what I mean?”
Gabe closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, they’re less mutinous and more regretful.
“I’m really sorry. I wasn’t thinking. His hand was on you, and I saw red. There were, like, a million ways I could have handled that better, and none of them involved calling you my fiancée. Although I do like the way that sounds.”
His voice is filled with hope and amusement, and then he grins at me. This whole thing is so surreal and ridiculous that, for lack of anything better to do, I burst out laughing. I laugh so hard that tears leak out of my eyes, and I have to lean back against the wall to steady myself.
“What are you even doing here anyway? This is my work neighborhood. You don’t live here. Unless you bought two houses.” I’m joking, but then I realize that Gabe is a billionaire and could buy a house in every neighborhood in the city if he wanted to. “You didn’t buy two houses, did you?”
He snorts out a laugh. “No, I didn’t buy two houses. Just the one is enough for me. I needed new running shoes and there was a pair I wanted to try on. Apparently, the best running store in the city is right near your office. I stopped in here afterward to grab lunch. You being here was just luck. It’s like the universe wants us to keep running into each other.”
“The universe?”
He shrugs and grins again. “Thirty-two years in Northern California.”
I look down and see the bag emblazoned with the running store logo hooked around his arm, and I know from Emma that it is, in fact, the best running store in the city, so his story checks out. I pride myself on not overreacting to shit unless overreacting is necessary, and this doesn’t feel like one of those times.
“Okay. It’ll be fine. Brad is the king of gaslighting, so I’ll just do a little gaslighting of my own and give him a taste of his own medicine. I didn’t hear you call me your fiancée, did I? Brad must have misheard.”
Gabe shakes his head. “That definitely doesn’t seem like something I would say. How could I possibly be your fiancé when I just moved to town like a week ago? That’s not logical.”
Now it’s my turn to grin. “Exactly.”
I think for a second and make another quick decision. My instincts haven’t failed me yet, so I’m just going with it. This really was an excellent day until asshole Brad. It’s time to reclaim the excellence.
“Did you eat yet?”
He shakes his head. “No, I saw you as soon as I walked in, so I never ordered.”
“I’m here picking up food for my friends. It’s probably ready now. We all managed to coordinate our schedules, and we’re having a big noisy lunch at my office. Any chance you want to come? There are a lot of us, and we’re pretty loud and sometimes kind of obnoxious, but in the loving, family way.”
Gabe swallows hard, and his eyes fill with an unexpected well of emotion.
“Can I…um…would it be okay if I hugged you?”
I smile at him even as butterflies flit through my stomach. “Yeah, Gabe, it’s okay.”
Gabe drops his bag on the ground and steps forward, folding me into him, one arm around my waist and one hand tunneling through my hair. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I lay my head on his chest and close my eyes as the scents of ocean and pine surround me. The sound of his heartbeat in my ear is familiar, like a long-buried memory come to life.
Even though his body is bigger and more muscled than it was ten years ago, everything else about this hug is the same. His thumb drawing circles on my lower back. The way he leans his head against mine and lets out a little happy sigh. Gabe holding me against him like he never wants to let me go. My body fitting perfectly against his, like we were made for each other. Everything inside of me settles as he holds me against him. The kiss he presses to the top of my head. The one word that filters through my mind when I’m in his arms.
Home. It feels like home.
When we break apart, Gabe gives me a soft smile, his hair falling over his forehead and his blue eyes steady on mine.
“I missed that,” he says quietly.
I take a deep breath and let it out, deciding to give him my truth, too.
“I did too. So, lunch?”
“Lunch sounds perfect.”
Gabe reaches down and grabs my bags and his, and then we pick up the food at the counter and head back to my office to join the chaos.