Chapter 12 #2
They had the sexy banter down. Of course they did. A matchmaker and a couples counselor walk into a contest and they might as well book their kid’s stuntman camp right now.
She slunk back in her chair. There were certain times in a girl’s life when she realized it was time to give up. This was one of those times.
“Damn.” She sat back as the video played and the couple chatted all about the brilliance of their matched couple.
It helped that the couple was actually there to add tidbits.
They both liked spaghetti carbonara, walks downtown, and making their matchmaker look really freaking good at his job.
Hell, he even had a professional sign off on the coupling.
“Well…” Molly lifted her gaze to Agnes. “What’s your plan?” she asked, earnestly.
“Uh…” Molly glanced to the coffee pot. That was the first part of her plan. The second step was still up for debate. “Probably bow out.”
“But you need money.” Agnes scowled.
“I do. Prize money would be great, but I also realize that this guy—Peter—is going to win.”
Agnes glowered. “What has happened to you?”
“What do you mean?” Nothing had happened to her… that she knew of. She was the same old Molly. Same ol’. Same ol’.
“You used to be so Molly. Now you’re…” She waved a hand up and down.
“I’m still Molly.” Molly gestured to herself. “I’ve always been this level of both awesome and what-the-hell.”
Agnes pursed her lips. “There’s a house two streets over for sale. Came up yesterday.”
Wait. What? Not to say that Molly had been waiting for a house in the neighborhood, but she’d totally been waiting for a house in this neighborhood. She could stay close to Agnes, have her home, and live her happily ever after.
“My house plans may need to take a backseat so Ollie can have his camp and I can fix my car when it decides not to start.” Because according to the mechanic that was going
to happen any minute.
The idea of the perfect house dropping onto the market at precisely the time she couldn’t use her down payment? Irony was a fickle asshole.
“What about me?” Agnes asked, pointing to her chest. “I haven’t had time to get Charlie to fall head over heels. Right now he’s just in it for the contest.”
“What?” Molly didn’t buy that for a minute. “Explain to me what you told Charlie on your walk yesterday.”
“That you need money.” Agnes hadn’t stopped glowering. But Molly would not cower under the glower. She was strong. Really, she was.
“Okay,” Molly said.
“I told him if we did this you’d get money.” Agnes leaned in and said, dangerously soft, “That’s why he agreed.”
“I don’t believe that.” Molly turned her eyelids to slits. “I’m certain he knows you have an ulterior motive.”
“Of course he does! But things are still cementing.
Right now we’re just sand cookies waiting to ferment.”
“I don’t even know how to respond to the sand cookie thing.”
“He needs to be in this long enough to realize he’s in love with me.”
“Is he in love with you?” Molly asked, because it seemed pretty early for that.
“Well, not yet,” Agnes conceded. “But he will be.” She shoved her hands on her hips. “I get the man; you get the money. We all end up happy.”
“Except Peter.”
“Who we will deal with.”
“Er…” He seemed like the kind of person Molly would
be friends with, and Agnes seemed a little scary right now. “How do you propose we deal?”
Whatever the answer coming her direction, she was leery.
“We need a gimmick.” Agnes’s scary turned to a twinkle, like she was seriously considering shoving a Skittle up her nose.
“No.” Molly shook her head. “We don’t.”
“You need somebody to talk to on there.” Agnes waved her hand toward the laptop. “They’ve got all this chatter together. You’ve just got your laptop and a few pictures from our date. They weren’t even printed off!”
Uh…okay. Well… She could print off photos and… “You wanna come on with me?”
“Not me.” Agnes made big eyes at her, like Molly was being intentionally dense.
“Okay, spell it out.” Molly did a finger brush of her untamed hair before pulling it into a high bun with an elastic hairband from the pocket of her bathrobe.
“You and that Gavin boy were quite cozy last night.” Agnes waggled her eyebrows. “The wattage was impressive.” No they weren’t. No it wasn’t. And what was with Agnes’s eyebrow dance?
What was she suggesting?
Molly ticked her head to the side. Yes, it did seem Agnes was suggesting Molly invite Gavin onto the video log.
Okay, so…
“First, Gavin isn’t a boy.” She began counting off her points one finger at a time, starting with her pinky.
“Very true, indeed.” Agnes nodded. Good, they could agree on that.
“Second,” Molly continued. “We’re barely learning to be in the same room together without a desire to throttle the other. Therefore, I’m not asking him to come talk about your budding relationship with Charlie.”
“Yes.” Agnes clapped her hands. “Excellent idea. Tell him to pose as your boyfriend. Everyone will eat. It. Up.”
Wait. What? No.
“I said it’s a bad idea. What you just suggested makes it even worse.
” Molly was not going to be spending any time with Gavin intentionally.
Especially not time spent posing as a couple.
“Even if I wanted to invite him, what would the context be? How would I explain who he is?” She gave up ticking off reasons on her fingertips and went with talking with her hands instead.
“This is Gavin.” She pointed to an imaginary nobody beside her.
“He used to be married to my best friend. Now he’s not.
” She did a Vanna White pose. “I used to hate him, but now I’m questioning the reasons.
Pretend relationship time! Stay tuned for more details. ”
“That’s the spirit.” Agnes smacked her knee. “You’re getting it. Everyone will eat this up. You two could end up with your own radio show!”
Again, before seven a.m. things made no sense.
“I don’t think we’re understanding each other,” Molly said. “At all.”
At all. At all.
“Oh, I think we are.” Agnes stood, brushed off a bunch of nothing from her pressed pants, and strode to the door. “What good is an unmatched matchmaker? Not good, that’s all I’m saying. You haven’t met your match, so you fake it ’til you make it.”
That was not going to happen.
Molly dropped her head to her arm on the table as the back door opened and then closed.
There were things that would absolutely not be happening. And one of those things was Gavin Frank.
Sure, he was handsome beyond belief. And, of course, he’d likely wind up giving her a solid uptick of likes and shares. Not enough to win the contest from Mr. McPerfect and his husband Mr. McRelationship Doctor.
She stood, confident that this was not going to happen.
No. It wasn’t.
Agnes didn’t have access to Molly’s puppet strings. No, sir. Molly kept those babies locked up tight.
Molly searched up the MLS housing listings for her neighborhood and…
oh hell yes. The house was everything and more.
Even the price tag—mostly. That would need to come down a little.
It was way overpriced for this neighborhood.
But she’d been watching the listings long enough and knew this real estate agent’s schtick.
He went in way too high and then progressively dropped the price after two weeks to a more reasonable number.
Which meant… Who needed a car? No one really needed a car. Not when they could have marble countertops and travertine tile.
On that thought, Oliver stumbled through the door to the kitchen. He did mornings with only a touch less enthusiasm than she did.
He grunted at her in greeting. What could she say? It was their way.
Since she’d given birth to him—alone—it’d been just the two of them. Figuring out the world on their own.
It worked. She never would’ve thought it would work, but
it did. His dad paid the child support when he remembered, and Molly made sure she was enough so Ollie didn’t need a father figure.
“Cereal or a bagel?” She already reached for the cereal, feeling that Toasty O’s vibe coming from him.
“Cereal,” he said, rubbing at his eyeballs. “Did you get an e-mail yet?”
Molly stilled, the box of breakfast still in hand. “No.
Not yet.”
Ollie had been asking multiple times every day about the stunt camp application.
Was she the only one in the room who felt the hope deflating? Even if he got accepted—and she hoped he would—what if she wasn’t able to make it happen?
Was it irresponsible to use a nest egg for something other than a nest?
Dammit.
Hope was an unforgiving asshole, that was for sure. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
He shuffled to the dishwasher, grabbing a bowl and spoon, before sitting back at the table to have his breakfast. Molly finally—dear God, finally—poured herself a cup of coffee. She doused it with a glug of milk and leaned against the counter.
There was another way. She was a YouTube influencer with a decent following of viewers. At her level, she could be picky with her sponsors. So maybe she just needed to be less picky? Go for the ones with more money, not the ones who fit her brand best.
Ugh. No. She wouldn’t do that.
Her brand was how she paid for breakfast cereal.
There was an angle here to propel her right toward the lead. And that lead meant that she could still give her kid his dreams, keep her nest egg intact, and drive a well-functioning vehicle.
The only problem?
She wasn’t going to like it.