Chapter 5
Collin
Will mild-mannered Chase actually punch me later?
I’m not sure. But I’ll definitely be finding out. His narrow-eyed look as he sees me holding Molly’s hand sure does promise me something like retribution.
But I don’t miss the amusement in Harper’s eyes as she gives Molly a quick hug and murmurs loudly enough for me to hear, “I can’t wait to hear how this happened.”
While the room behind us erupts in murmurs and the sound of chairs scraping back, I make a quick round of hugs while pleading quietly for each of them just to go with it and I’ll explain later.
A tall order considering I offer them no details.
There isn’t time. I’m assuming my family is smart enough to get with the program—and quick.
Later, I can explain how this is just me helping Molly out. Surely they’ll understand.
I wish Winnie were here to soften James, but she and Lindy are the only two missing from this chaotic family intrusion. My older brother is the most likely to refuse to play nice. Good thing he’s also the least likely to speak up in a crowded room.
The glint in Pat’s eyes tells me he’s more than happy to go along with whatever this is.
And Tank, with Jo on his shoulders, looks way too excited to see me holding hands with Molly. I can already sense all the ideas taking root in his mind.
The poor man will be disappointed once he finds out this is not a real relationship. He’ll have to uproot the redwood of hope he’s currently fertilizing in his mind right now.
Molly drops my hand briefly to hug Chase. It looks like she’s giving him a whispered warning, but I’m not close enough to hear what she says.
I am plenty close enough to register the laser beams he’s shooting from his eyes directly at me.
Clearly, sending a text to my brothers with a picture of Molly and the unicorn along with a text saying, Look who I’m holding hostage, was a poor choice on my part.
Not the first or the worst choice I’ve made today. I should have considered the fact that my nosy family is all on a location-tracking app. I really need to turn that thing off.
Once hugs and whispered warnings have been given, I exchange a look with Molly. An understanding passes between us, one that feels eerily more intimate than it should given the fact that we barely know each other. She reaches for me, and I take her hand as though I’ve been doing it for years.
Together, we turn back to the room.
I clear my throat and locate my most winning smile. “Sorry about the interruption, folks. We Grahams don’t do things by halves.”
There are chuckles around the room, and before I can continue, my dad steps forward. With his wide smile and the little girl on his shoulders tugging at his hair, Tank’s got me beat in the charm department. Hands down.
“We truly didn’t mean to cause a scene. Just wanted to welcome y’all to Sheet Cake and let you know how happy we are to have Brightmark taking up residence in town.” He drops his voice. “And we’ll be happier once you’re fully set up in the superior part of town.”
He winks. People laugh. And I have a warped sense of envy for how winsome my dad can be. He could sell online courses on it. Though in all honesty, I’m not sure it’s transferable. Tank just has that special something.
“We won’t keep you any longer,” he says now. “Thank you again for choosing Sheet Cake.”
There’s applause, like he’s given an acceptance speech, and I blow out a breath. Molly slips her fingers from mine and retrieves the unicorn from its chair, holding it out to Jo.
“I believe this is yours,” Molly says, smiling. “You’re Jo?”
Dad swings Jo down from his shoulders to his arms so she can take the massive purple unicorn. Jo beams at Molly, who beams right back.
I suddenly feel like someone’s pressing a cattle prod directly to the center of my chest. It’s painful, but the jolt is more than I’ve felt in a long time for anything.
Which is concerning when I consider the fact that this isn’t real and that I’m here at all because Molly lied.
“Are you Collin’s girlfriend?” Jo asks, and the cattle prod’s voltage increases ten-fold.
When my family finds out the truth, they’ll shake their heads and tell me I’m an idiot. A lie to Jo feels like a whole other thing.
But amidst the panic there’s also a surprising longing for the lie to be true.
Because I realize the moment Jo asks that I’d like to confidently say, Yes—Molly is my girlfriend.
My hesitation stems directly from the giant red flag of her lie, which brought me here in the first place and should have made me run instead.
Given what I’ve been through recently, running should have been the logical choice. Liza did enough lying to leave me with permanent trust issues.
So … why is my knee-jerk reaction to lie to Jo and claim Molly?
Maybe it’s because I sense something more in Molly.
She flat-out said she’s desperate, but it’s deeper than her words.
There’s a sadness, a sort of longing I recognize.
Because I feel it too. Molly has a vulnerability that no one—not even an actress, since that’s the job she’s trying to get here—can fake.
The vulnerability goes a long way toward balancing out the lie.
Plus, I really like her. Before, there was a sense of attraction based solely on the fact that she’s gorgeous, seems nice, and is vetted through her association with Chase.
But now, after even this little bit of time together, it’s growing quickly into something more. She’s feisty and fun, easy to spar with. And her hand fits so perfectly in mine.
In a weird way, Molly and I have morphed into our own tiny team of two in the last hour.
So, when I glance at her and see the clear conflict on her face about lying to a six-year-old, I decide to take one for the team—our team.
“Yup,” I tell Jo, slinging an arm around Molly’s shoulders, pulling her close, where it already feels like she belongs. “She’s mine.”
Molly is quiet through the rest of lunch. Or, quieter.
After Tank signs autographs and takes a few photos, he gives me a look I know well and then manages to wrangle the whole family out. I’m not looking forward to the conversations I’ll be having later with my dad or Chase, but I’ve got a little time to figure out what to say.
First, though, I need to figure out why Molly stopped talking. I have my suspicions, but since I barely know her, I’m shooting in the dark.
We head out after saying our goodbyes to the studio execs, the staff, and a handful of other actors not big enough for me to recognize.
Everyone seems thrilled with Molly. Or with us?
Hard to say now that we’re a package deal.
But she’s the one several ask to take photos with for social media.
I remember Chase saying she was some kind of influencer.
I avoid social media like the plague. Until lately, as Liza has been dragging my name all over it. I shouldn’t keep watching. I shouldn’t have an alert set up on my phone to send notifications when my name is mentioned.
But, like I’m driving by a smoking wreck, I can’t seem to look away.
I sling an arm across Molly’s shoulders as we head toward my truck. “Everything okay?”
She doesn’t pull away, but her answering nod is too quick. “Yeah.”
“But are you good?”
I stop on the sidewalk, refusing to look away until Molly meets my gaze. Her expression guts me, and without pausing to question it, I pull her into a hug. She wraps her arms around me and squeezes tight, like this is exactly the thing she needed.
My lips brush her cheek as I murmur, “Because if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say you’re struggling with how the lie got away from you.”
“It just … got very real,” she says, holding me even tighter. I bet she’s thinking of Jo.
Because I am too.
I swallow. “Maybe I should have explained to my family rather than …”
I want to say giving Jo the wrong impression, but those words aren’t accurate. I lied. Plain and simple.
To my niece.
The thing is, the rest of my family seemed content playing along with no details whatsoever.
And up until I flat-out told Jo that Molly’s my girlfriend, we could have played it off.
Holding hands isn’t a love confession. It’s something, but something that could have stayed smaller and more contained, more easily brushed off.
Now … I don’t know what my family thinks, though they probably know I didn’t secure myself a girlfriend in the hour since I last saw them.
And while there would likely be an array of reactions to the story behind our charade, I think they’d mostly understand. Even if they’d flat out tell me we’re being stupid.
But Jo …
“It’s my fault,” Molly says. “I started this and dragged you into it with me. I’m sorry.” Her hands clutch at my shirt, and there’s a wobble in her voice.
Sliding my hand up to press gently between her shoulder blades, I draw her even closer. She doesn’t resist.
“I should have told you who I was the moment I recognized you,” I say. “Because when you asked for my help, you didn’t know what you were walking into. I’m sorry, Molly.”
“Well, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you,” she says. Briefly, she reaches up and brushes a hand over my facial hair, smiling. “The beard really works if you need to go into witness protection or something.”
“Good to know.”
I find myself wanting to ask if she likes it or prefers the clean-shaven or mildly scruffy look I’ve sported for years. Now is probably not the time.
Not when her smile falls again.
“Hey,” I say, cupping the back of her head with my other hand. “It’s clear this job is important to you.”
“It’s not this job specifically so much as having a job.”
“If you want to talk about anything …”
My words trail off as I think about how to finish that sentence. If you want to tell me why you need this job so badly, for example.
If you want to tell me why you’re desperate.
If you want to trust me, you can.
But Molly only shakes her head. “I’m fine.”
I’m not convinced that’s true, but I also can’t expect her to lay her heart out right this second.
Instead, I nod. “Well, if you need to talk to me, you can. And what we do next, it’s up to you. Okay? You set the tone, Molly. You tell me what you want.” I trail my hand from the back of her head to her neck and massage lightly.
She gives a soft little snort, still tugging lightly at my shirt, like she’s trying to anchor herself to me. “It’s that easy, huh? You’re just that nice of a guy?”
“I’m not so nice.” The huskiness in my voice surprises me.
It must surprise Molly too because she freezes. I start to pull away—because what am I doing?—when she leans into me.
“Then why?” she whispers. “Why, when you knew who I was and knew I didn’t recognize you when I should have—why, when you’re apparently not so nice—why did you agree to help me? Why are you still helping me?”
“I don’t know, darlin’. But I don’t have any regrets.”
“Except for lying to Jo?”
She’s got me there. I sigh, gently rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah. Except for that.”
“What are we going to do?” she asks, finally pulling back to look at me.
With the vulnerability and a light sheen of tears in her blue eyes, I’d do just about anything she asked.
“We’ll take it one step at a time.”