“What time should I pick you up? I’m on my way to dad’s after this. The dog walker has the flu, so I’m on puppy duty today. But I can swing by and get you at 11, if that works? It couldn’t be any later, though, because I have to pick up Ava and take her—”
“Molly, darling, isn’t today your day off?” Stella asks.
“Yea,” I nod, figuring the tip in my head and adding three dollars. I was a server in college; I’m an over-tipper.
“And you’re spending this day off carting me around, helping your dad, picking up Ava, and Lord knows what else.”
“It’s fine,” I assure her. “Helping people is what I do.”
“And I’m so very grateful. But who helps you, lovely?”
“I don’t need help,” I answer cheekily, with a wink. All the while, I’m fighting the visual of Ev that pops into my head. I feel like there are many things that Ev could help me with, and my schedule is far down on that list.
“We all need help, dear. Don’t forget that. And don’t worry about picking me up. Dottie will come and get me and then we’re playing bridge at Vera’s.”
“And let me guess, Vera’s brother will be there?”
She smiles, “That’s the plan.”
I shake my head. “Well, then. We’d better get you to the salon.”
Two and a half hours later, I’m exhausted. I pinch my cheeks to add some color and swipe on some gloss before heading into the hotel to meet with Ev and the wedding planner. I lock the Porsche and give her a quick salute. I’ve had fun driving her, but it’s time she went back to her rightful owner.
My heels click on the Italian marble of the Admiral Inn, as I walk into the lobby and take a seat in one of the plush, overstuffed chairs. Miraculously, I’m early. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes and take a few moments to relax.
“Molly, are you all right?”
The deep, rumbly timbre of Ev’s voice is soothing. I crack a smile and open my eyes.
“I’m fine, Ev. It’s just been a day.”
He takes a seat in the chair next to mine, and for a moment, I wish we weren’t scheduled to meet with the wedding planner. I wish we could just sit and talk. Despite my annoyance at his reappearance in my life, I genuinely like the guy. That’s probably why I’m so annoyed that he’s back. He’s easy to talk to and hard to resist.
“Already? It’s barely noon,” he says.
“Yes, already. I started my day with Stella at physical therapy, and that was the easy part. Then I went to my dad’s to walk his dog, but someone, probably my stepbrother Winn, forgot to close Baxter’s crate this morning, so the Cocker Spaniel puppy wreaked havoc on the place. I cleaned up two broken vases and a shredded pillow before I noticed a dark smudge on the white sofa. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was chocolate and that it was also all over Baxter’s mouth.”
He stands and crosses the two steps to my chair, squatting behind me. What the hell? Did he drop a pen? “Damn. I’m no dog expert, but that does not sound good.” His firm hands grip my shoulders and knead the tense muscles there. Lordy Lord, I was not expecting this, but I’m definitely not objecting.
“Not at all,” I continue. “I found the rest of the Hershey bar on the rug, which is also white. He chewed it, but didn’t eat much, thank goodness. So, I blotted those messes while I was on hold with the vet. I took Baxter over there to get checked out, just in case, and then I rushed over to my stepsister Ava’s school, so I could pick her up and take her to the gynecologist to get birth control.”
“Jesus. Is that something sisters do for each other? Because...” Ev looks confused and a little green at the prospect of having to take a teenager to get contraceptives.
“No, I don’t think it’s a sisterly ritual. We went to the salon last week, Ava and I, and she kept telling me all about this boy she’s talking to, so I took the responsible next step and got her an appointment. Her parents—my dad and stepmom—are good people, and they love her, but they aren’t great at noticing signs like that.”
“Signs like talking?” Now his confusion is written plainly across his handsome face.
“Oh, Ev. You’re showing your age, my friend. ‘Talking’ doesn’t mean talking, as in conversing.”
“Of course not. Why would it? Okay, so enlighten me.”
“These days,” I roll my eyes at my own age-revealing wording, “‘talking’ basically entails what we think of as dating, only it’s not necessarily exclusive, and it’s more physical than conversational.”
Ev nods, as if digesting this alien information. “So, it’s like college dating? Where you just sort of hook up? Or am I advertising my age again with that phrase?”
“Ha. Maybe a little, but I’m tracking. And yes, it’s similar. So, we went to the gynecologist and then hit up a drive-thru for milkshakes. Oh, and I gave her a box of condoms, of course. Pregnancy is not the only possible consequence of unprotected sex, and I want to make sure Ava is prepared when she takes that next step.”
He looks at me with regard. “You, Molly Randall, are one hell of a person. Do your parents—uh, dad and stepmother—appreciate that you’re basically raising their child?”
