Be Mine
Molly
The rec room is transformed into a Valentine’s wonderland.
Red and pink streamers cascade from the ceiling, paper hearts cover every available surface, and the photo booth in the corner is getting constant use.
A playlist of love songs fills the air—currently Can’t Help Falling in Love is playing—and there’s enough chocolate and champagne to supply a small wedding.
It should be perfect.
And it is.
Except I keep glancing at the door.
“He’s not coming,” Sophie says quietly from beside me. She’s nursing a glass of pink lemonade—spiked, courtesy of Danny—and watching the party with the careful observation of someone who’d rather be reading a book.
I met Sophie my first week in the building three years ago.
She’s in 403, works from home doing something with data analysis that I don’t fully understand, and rarely leaves her apartment except for essentials.
But she’s sweet in a reserved, thoughtful way, and she’s become one of my closest friends in the building—even if our socializing usually consists of her letting me ramble while she listens.
“I know,” I say, taking a sip of my drink. It’s sweeter than I expected, and stronger. “I don’t, um, expect him to.”
Sophie gives me a sympathetic look, but she doesn’t call me out on it.
“He smiled at me this morning,” I add, like that explains everything and nothing at all.
“You mentioned that. Three times.” Her lips quirk up slightly. “In the last hour.”
He’s not coming, Molly, let it go.
I’m losing it. “Was it three?”
“Definitely three.”
I sigh, watching the Johnsons slow dance near the makeshift dance floor. They’re celebrating their fortieth anniversary tonight, and the way Mr. Johnson looks at his wife like she’s still the young woman he married makes my chest ache.
That’s what I want. That kind of love. The lasting kind.
“You know what your problem is?” Sophie asks, her voice barely audible over the music.
“I’m a hopeless romantic who falls too fast?”
“You’re an optimist in a world full of Nathans and Lukes.” She adjusts her glasses. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I just worry you’ll get hurt.”
“Too late,” I say with a weak laugh.
She peers at me strangely. “Did something else happen with 402?”
I haven’t told her about the kiss and Luke promptly calling it a mistake in the parking lot, then thinking a single moment of connection between us meant anything.
Though it certainly felt like…everything.
“Nothing,” I lie. “He just made it clear he’s not interested in, um, the party. Or me.”
Sophie’s gaze softens as she opens her mouth to respond, but Danny appears with a tray of signature heart-shaped, Village Bakery cookies.
“Ladies! You’re not eating. And Molly, you made these, you should be enjoying them.” He thrusts the tray toward us forcing Sophie to catch a cookie before it falls.
“Thanks, Danny,” I say, taking one even though my stomach is twisted in knots.
“Having fun?” He rocks on his heels, scanning the room with pride. The party is a success—nearly every tenant showed up. The decorations look festive without being tacky, and the energy is surprisingly good for a building full of mostly single people on Valentine’s Day.
“It’s wonderful,” I tell him honestly. “You outdid yourself.”
“Well, I had help from the best decorator in the bakery business.” He winks at me, then leans in conspiratorially. “Speaking of which, I thought maybe a certain someone from 402 might make an appearance…”
My heart does that stupid flutter thing before reality settles in. “I don’t think he’s coming, Danny.”
“Hmm.” He doesn’t look convinced. “Well, the night’s still young! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to convince a few guests that karaoke is mandatory, not optional.”
He bustles off, and Sophie and I exchange glances.
“He definitely sabotaged that elevator,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Right?” I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.
“I’ve lived here for over five years and it’s never gotten stuck like that before,” she admits. “Though if Luke’s not here, maybe it didn’t work the way Danny hoped.”
I take another sip of my drink and sigh. “Maybe some people just aren’t meant to—”
“Molly?”
That voice.
No.
I turn slowly, and there he is. Nathan, standing near the entrance in a button-down shirt and jeans, looking uncertain and out of place. His eyes lock on mine, and my stomach drops.
“What is he doing here?” Sophie whispers, her hand finding my arm.
“I have no idea.”
Nathan weaves through the crowd toward us, and I catch Danny notice, his expression shifting from cheerful host to protective landlord in an instant. But before he can intercept, Nathan reaches me.
“Molly, can we talk?” He glances at Sophie. “Alone?”
“No,” Sophie says firmly, which is possibly the most assertive I’ve ever heard her be.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, even though every instinct is screaming at me to walk away. Sophie gives a small nod, glaring at Nathan as she steps off to the side, staying close despite my okay. I turn back to the unwelcome guest. “What do you want, Nathan?”
His gaze flicks from side to side along with his feet, and I recognize the gesture—it’s what he does when he’s anxious. “I need to explain about yesterday. About…Cindy.”
“There’s nothing to explain. You proposed, she said yes, congratulations.” The words come out sharp and bitter, but I’m not. I don’t care if he’s moved on. I realized a while ago we weren’t meant to be. “Now please leave.”
“That’s the thing.” He steps closer, lowering his voice. “She didn’t say yes. She didn’t say anything, because…she doesn’t exist.”
I blink. “What?”
“Cindy. She’s, uh, not real. I was—” He winces. “I was catfished. For the last six months. I drove three hours to that restaurant to propose, and she never showed. I waited for an hour before I finally tried calling, and the number was disconnected. Her social media accounts, everything—gone.”
For a moment, I just stare at him.
Then I start laughing, and I can’t stop even though it’s not really funny. It’s sad and pathetic and somehow a perfect closer to this coldhearted breakup.
“You’re telling me,” I manage between laughs, “that you broke up with me for someone who doesn’t exist?”
“I know how it sounds.”
“Do you?” My laughter dies. “Because it sounds like you threw away two years for a fantasy. And now you’re here, on Valentine’s Day, at my building, telling me this…why exactly?”
“Because I made a mistake.” He reaches for my hand, but I pull away. “Molly, I know I hurt you. But these past few months without you, I’ve realized—”
“Stop.” My voice is steady now, all laughter ceased. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to come here and act like we can just pick up where we left off because your imaginary girlfriend didn’t work out.”
“I’m not saying that. I’m saying, I miss you. I miss us. And I thought maybe if I explained…”
“That you’re a fool? I already knew that, Nathan.” I set my drink down before I’m tempted to throw it at him. “You need to leave.”
“Molly, please.”
“No.”
Nathan ignores me, stepping closer. “Just give me five minutes. Let me—”
“Is this guy bothering you?”
The voice is deep, rough, familiar, and sends electricity down my spine.
I spin, and there he is.
Luke.
He’s standing behind me, and his gaze is…dangerous. His jaw is clenched, his green eyes are dark and focused on Nathan like a predator sizing up prey. He’s still in his work clothes and his hands are curled into fists at his sides.
“Who are you?” Nathan asks, puffing up slightly in that way men do when they feel threatened. Though, on my computer-tech-never-been-to-the-gym ex, it’s rather… Humorous? Insulting? A massive turn off compared to the protective stance of 402?
Luke doesn’t answer him. His eyes find mine instead. “Molly?”
My name. A question. But the way he says it, like my answer actually matters, like he’ll do whatever I need him to do—makes my throat tight.
“I—” My voice cracks and I clear it. “Nathan was just leaving.”
“I’m not going anywhere until we talk,” Nathan says, reaching for my arm.
He doesn’t make contact.
Luke’s hand shoots out, gripping Nathan’s wrist and stopping him mid-reach. “She asked you to leave.”
“This is between me and my girlfriend—”
“Ex-girlfriend,” I correct, my voice shaking now. Not from fear, but from the sudden rush of emotion—relief, gratitude, and something else I don’t want to name.
“Let go of me,” Nathan says, trying to pull free.
Luke releases him, but doesn’t step back. Instead, he steps in front of me, blocking me, protecting me. “Leave. Now.”
Nathan looks between us, and I see the moment he realizes he’s lost. Whatever chance he thought he had, it’s gone. His face flushes with anger and embarrassment.
“This is ridiculous. Molly, are you seriously going to—”
“Get the fuck out.” Luke’s voice is low, controlled, but there’s an edge to it that makes even me take a step back. The entire room has gone quiet. Everyone’s watching now.
Nathan opens his mouth to respond and Luke moves.
It’s one punch. Clean, precise, and devastating.
Nathan goes down like a sack of potatoes, clutching his nose as blood seeps through his shaking fingers. The room erupts in gasps and a few scattered cheers (mostly from Brent, who showed up with Mitch).
“Oh my god,” I breathe.
Danny appears with napkins and an ice pack, already in full damage control mode, but his expression is more satisfied than concerned. “All right, folks, show’s over! Nathan, you’re banned from the building and any future events. Let’s get you cleaned up and on your way.”
Luke turns to me, his chest heaving slightly, and for the first time since he arrived, he appears…uncertain. “Are you okay?”
I should say yes. I should thank him and laugh it off and pretend my heart isn’t racing for an entirely different reason now. Instead, I hear myself say, “Can you get me out of here?”
His eyes search mine. “You sure?”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
Without a word, Luke bends down and—before I can process what’s happening—sweeps me up and into his arms like I weigh nothing at all. One arm under my knees, the other supporting my back, he carries me bridal style with sure steps.
“Luke!” I gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders.
“You said get you out of here.” His voice is rough near my ear as he turns us toward the door.
The room erupts again, this time in whistles and applause. I catch Sophie’s wide eyes over Luke’s shoulder, Danny grinning like he’s just won the lottery, and hear Brent yell something that’s probably inappropriate.
But I don’t care.
Because Luke is carrying me out of the party, down the hallway, and for the first time all day—maybe for the first time in months—I feel like I can breathe.
“Where to?” he asks as we reach the elevator.
“My apartment,” I whisper. “Please.”
He nods once, hitting the button with his elbow since his hands are currently occupied with holding me. The elevator arrives—perfectly functional now, naturally—and we step inside.
Neither of us says anything as it climbs to the fourth floor. I’m hyperaware of everywhere we’re touching. His arms solid and warm beneath me, the way I’m pressed against his chest, the steady thud of his heartbeat.
When the doors open, he carries me down the hall to 401. “Keys?”
“Purse,” I manage, reaching into the small crossbody bag I’m still somehow wearing.
I unlock the door with shaking hands, and Luke pushes it open with his shoulder, carrying me across the threshold and inside before gently setting me down. My feet touch the floor, but his hands linger on my waist, steadying me.
We stand there in the dim light of my apartment, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in his green eyes, smell the faint scent of leather and sweat that’s purely him.
“Luke,” I start, but I don’t know how to finish.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice rough. “This morning, it was…”
“A mistake?” I whisper, echoing his words from earlier.
His jaw tightens. “No. Saying that kiss was a mistake—that was the mistake.”
My breath catches.
“None of it was a mistake, Molly. You were right.” His hands tighten on my waist and he tugs me closer. My hands brace against his chest, keeping a measure of space between us. “I was scared. I am scared. But…” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t stay away. I don’t want to stay away.”
I reach up, my fingers trembling as they graze the stubble on his jaw. “Then don’t.”