Chapter 16
Molly
“I’ve never seen someone fill out paperwork with such joy.” Kelvin’s voice startles me, and my signature becomes a random squiggle on the contract I’m signing.
I glance across the table at him. “What?”
He points at my face. “You've been grinning the whole time you’ve been signing.”
Does that mean he’s been watching me this whole time?
He seems to realize how creepy he just sounded and stands quickly. “Um, I’ll go grab some water. Want anything? Coffee? Water? A Coke?”
A little privacy would be great, so I request a coffee, hoping it will take him a few minutes to return.
I don’t really care about or need coffee, since Collin was waiting for me this morning with a mug and a smile when I got up.
The only thing I like more than a cup of coffee in hand first thing is when Collin Graham, shirtless and sleep-rumpled, is handing it to me.
A girl could get used to that kind of spoiling.
A girl could also start convincing herself that it was real.
Especially after the evening we spent with his family. Even as they were absolutely trying to give us—more Collin than me—a hard time about this fake dating thing, it still felt good to be a part of a family that teases, a family that cares. A family that feels healthy.
Not that mine is so awful, really. I have some great childhood memories with Chase and both of my parents.
I’ve tried to pinpoint when my dad got more controlling, and the best I can figure is when Chase was in high school.
As for Mom, not speaking up or even supporting Dad’s actions is a passive kind of control in and of itself.
She could stand up for me, stand up to him—but she doesn’t.
It wasn’t always this way, and I’m not sure when things twisted.
The brunt of it fell on my brother until he left, then Dad seemed to double up the efforts with his focus on me.
I don’t blame my brother or anything. His relationship with both of my parents is strained, but Dad wasn’t nearly as controlling with Chase as he is with me. Maybe he thought he’d fix that mistake, tightening like a clamp over me to keep me from running like my brother.
Oh, the irony. I’ve basically followed in his same footsteps.
Now, I’m here in Texas, being accepted as I am by the Grahams just like Chase was. Or, I guess, not just like Chase since he and Harper are together and Collin and I are … not.
I found their interrogation and teasing pretty amusing, but I could tell it exasperated Collin.
It’s different when it’s your family. The joking made me feel like I was a part of things, so I didn’t mind.
My main concern was Jo, and I’m glad she wasn’t upset.
I am wondering about how insightful her observations were.
She absolutely pegged my feelings for Collin. But was she right that he likes me too?
It seems like almost too much to hope for.
The time with his family ended on a high note, with the emotional—and maybe accidental—announcement that Lindy and Pat are having a daughter.
I even got swept up in the moment, my eyes stinging with happy tears I couldn’t quite explain. Because it’s not like I’m part of the family.
And yet, for those few minutes, I forgot that I don’t really belong. No one treated me like I was just there as Collin’s pretend girlfriend or even as Chase’s sister. I was fully included and welcomed like I was one of their own.
When Collin’s eyes met mine across the room in the midst of all the celebrating, an affection that felt very real passed between us.
Or, at least, it felt real to me. And it awoke a hunger for more. To be part of this big, loud, ridiculous family.
To be part of Collin’s life as more than some temporary girlfriend.
Thinking about it, allowing myself to dream is why I’ve been smiling while filling out the paperwork. It’s definitely not the contracts themselves, which are giving me a sense of foreboding that grows deeper every time I scrawl my name.
Why? I don’t know.
I wanted this job. I lied to get this job. If I want to even consider giving up influencing, then I need this job.
It’s the whole reason I’m here in Sheet Cake. It’s the reason Collin and I are fake dating. Although, I guess now his gym is a part of it. Still, it was the impetus for the whole situation.
Also, it doesn’t help me feel any more mature or settled or grown-up to push so hard to get a job that now I’m not sure I want. My father’s words suddenly bubble up in my head.
You’re changing majors again? It’s like horseback riding and tennis lessons all over again. You just can’t seem to make up your mind.
He wasn’t wrong. That’s the thing that makes it so hard for me to eradicate years of subtle—and not-so-subtle—digs.
I have struggled to settle on something I’m passionate about.
I did try and quit like five different sports and hobbies.
And I did change majors—though I still managed to graduate with only one extra semester.
My hesitation over the contract suddenly feels like one more piece of evidence making a case for indecision and immaturity.
I should just sign it. Stick with my plan to get out of Kansas.
Stick with the plan that necessitates fake dating Collin.
It’s about time for me to commit to something and see it through.
And yet …
I pause, setting down the pen as I attempt to read some of the fine print. It’s not exactly fine—at least, not tiny—but there are dense, blocky paragraphs of text written in legalese that make my eyes cross.
Legalese makes me think of Thayden, and suddenly, I’m wondering if I should hit pause on signing for a whole other reason.
Kelvin and Vespa explained the basic idea of the job during the interview—essentially, I’ll be signing on as a kind of studio actor, where I’ll have roles in several films a year.
Anything in production, I’ve got a part.
But do I get any choices? What if I don’t want a particular role?
Or what if the explanation I got doesn’t actually match up with the wording on the contract? By signing, I’m agreeing to whatever is on these pages, not whatever Kelvin and Vespa might have said to me verbally.
Also, the paychecks won’t start until the first day of filming, and Kelvin had no idea when that would be. But at least six weeks. Which means I won’t have a paycheck for quite a while. It also means I don’t need to rush into signing.
I pull out my phone and shoot a text to Collin.
Molly: Quick q—how expensive is Thayden? Like, if I wanted to have him look over the contract I’m supposed to be signing.
Collin: Don’t worry about cost. We basically keep him in business, and he owes me anyway. Definitely don’t sign a contract without him reading it first.
Collin: I mean, what if Brightmark stops making feel-good romance movies and you’re suddenly stuck in the next iteration of Sharknado?
Molly: Maybe I’ve always wanted to star in a Sharknado-style movie.
Collin: You’re right. I don’t actually know your acting goals. Want to talk about them over dinner?
I know he’s not asking me on a date, not really. But it doesn’t stop me from feeling like he’s asking me on a date. I want to squeal and kick my feet. Why not? I’m already grinning at the phone like an idiot.
Collin: If you’re unsure about dinner, I can call ahead and make sure the restaurant knows NOT to serve you anything with Satan’s cucumbers.
I laugh, then startle as Kelvin steps back into the room.
“Now you’re laughing,” he says. “Maybe you should consider a job that involves paperwork on a daily basis. But not yet! Since, you know, we’re happy to have you in an acting role. I forgot to ask—do you take cream or sugar?”
“Just cream if you have it. And only if it’s not the powdered kind.”
“Got it.” He gives me a little salute and disappears again.
Molly: A pickle-free dinner sounds great.
Collin: See you when you get home.
Home. Just like he isn’t asking me on a real date, he doesn’t mean home like it’s really our home.
And it’s way too early even if this were a real relationship to be entertaining this idea.
I’m shaking my head, trying to shake loose the very bad ideas taking root there, when a text from an unknown number pops through, saying, Hey, Molly.
This is Thayden. I hope it’s okay that Collin shared your number with me.
He said you have a contract to look through, but you might be too stubborn—his words not mine—to reach out.
I’d be happy to take a look. Just send it over.
He texts again with his email address, and when Kelvin returns with my coffee, I stand, picking up the stack of papers. “I’m sorry—I actually would like my lawyer to have a look before I sign. Any chance you could email me a digital copy for him to look over?”
After forwarding the digital contract to Thayden, I wander into Kalli’s coffee shop again, hoping to catch up on social media. I need to post the last of my prerecorded, non-Collin content. Though I think people might revolt if we don’t post another couple video soon.
Today, though, the coffee shop is completely packed, with a long line of people stretching almost to the bathroom.
Kalli catches my eye, offering me a half-hearted wave.
She’s behind the espresso machine, which is whirring and hissing out steam.
Her movements are quick and precise. But sweat beads on her forehead and her mouth looks tense.
I lean across the side of the counter. “Are you working all alone?”
“For now. Finding good help is hard,” she says. “I’ll be fine.” She glances up at the line and her shoulders slump. “In an hour or so.”
“Can I help? I don’t know how to make coffee, but I’ve worked registers before.”
Her eyes brighten. “Seriously? I don’t want to take advantage of you but—”
“You’re not. I offered.”
Kalli agrees and less than two minutes later, I’ve got a Calliope Coffee hat and apron on, and I’m ringing people up using the iPad mounted on the counter.
It’s much easier than the hulking register at the boutique I worked at for a while in high school.
That job, like all of my jobs so far, was also short-lived.
I try not to think about that too hard or let it send me into a tailspin of wondering if I’m just the kind of person who can’t be trusted to make decisions. Or commitments.
It only takes a few minutes to get my groove, and I channel my online persona—bright and bubbly—as an attempt at crowd control since a lot of people look impatient. Standing between people and their caffeine source isn’t for the faint of heart.
But it works, and Kalli slowly relaxes until she’s moving fast but with loose limbs and a smile.
A few people recognize me from social media and seem excited to have me ringing up their orders.
I’m thankful my follower demographic skews young, which means most of them are in school right now.
Even a quick conversation slows me down.
What seems like hours later but is actually only about twenty-five minutes, we have a lull. Both of us slump back against the countertops, which are strewn with coffee grounds, milk, and various other casualties of the coffee rush.
“I cannot thank you enough,” Kalli says, starting to wipe down the counters with a damp cloth.
“I’ve had trouble finding people to work part-time hours.
Sometimes, being alone is fine. But at times like that …
” She shakes her head, then takes off her cap and adjusts her ponytail.
“You don’t want a job, do you?” she jokes.
I straighten, thinking of my dwindling bank account, the social media I’d like to quit, and the contract I have qualms about. “Actually … I could fill in for a while.”
The words came out of my mouth almost as quickly as the answer popped up in my brain. And though it really just feeds into the whole Molly can’t make a decision thing, it feels right. I like the vibe here. I like Kalli.
And though working behind the counter in a coffee shop isn’t really a career or what I planned, it was easy and honestly satisfying. Plus, I don’t have any of the doubts that started creeping in while I was trying to sign the Brightmark contracts. It feels right.
And it would allow me to step back from creating online content—at least once Collin sells the gym and I’m not helping with damage control. Having some steady money, even if it’s minimum wage, would offer me the freedom I’ve been searching for, or, at the least, a buffer.
But maybe Kalli really wasn’t serious, because she’s simply staring at me, blinking.
“If you’re just kidding, it’s fine,” I say quickly. “But if you really do need someone, I happen to have a lot of time on my hands and could use a paycheck.”
I’m shocked when Kalli lunges forward and wraps me in a hug. “Thank you! Yes!” I laugh as she releases me and steps back. “How soon can you start?”
I glance down at my apron, grinning. “I think I already did.”