Still Married to Her Ex!

by Lucy Clark

  Molly’s smile had increased. ‘Stacey said that I was insane but that this was just the sort of thing that I would do.’

  ‘Because you’re fun loving…’ He’d kissed one cheek. ‘Adorable.’ He’d kissed the other. ‘Vivacious.’ He’d kissed her nose before gazing deeply into her eyes. ‘And so incredibly perfect for me.’ He’d kissed her lips again, slowly, tenderly, letting her see that he was as much in love with her as she was with him. He’d rested his forehead against hers, his tone soft. ‘And what did Cora say?’

  It had taken a moment for Molly to get her thoughts back into a level of coherence as every fibre of her being had been zinging with delight at the seductive way Fletcher had just kissed her. ‘She, er…she said that life is for living,’ Molly had whispered. ‘To take those chances of happiness when you find them.’

  ‘And she’s right.’

  ‘She’s survived a major accident,’ Molly had agreed.

  ‘Which means she knows what she’s talking about.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Molly had stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms about his neck, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair, which had been long enough to touch the edge of his shirt collar. She’d kissed him again, allowing the sensations of their combined love to surround her. He’d been her Fletch. It hadn’t mattered that they’d only known each other for a few short weeks, when you knew—you just knew.

  ‘Next? Uh…Miss Molly Wilton and Mr Fletcher Thompson?’ At the sound of their names being called, Fletcher had reluctantly drawn back from his bride-to-be.

  ‘Dr Fletcher Thompson,’ Molly had corrected the woman who had already taken their details and their money.

  ‘Ah…’ He’d grinned at her. ‘So you’re just marrying me because I’m a doctor, eh?’ Molly had rolled her eyes but laughed with him as they’d entered the chapel, both of them ready to make their vows to each other.

  ‘This is for ever,’ he’d declared, looking directly into her eyes as he’d slid the wedding ring into place. ‘I love you, Molly.’

  She sighed and hugged the pillow close to her, the dream washing over her with such perfect clarity that it felt as though the events had taken place just yesterday. ‘Fletch.’ His name was a whispered caress into the dark and as she shifted in the bed, wishing he still lay beside her, her mind drifted off into another dream.

  Fletch carrying his new wife over the threshold of their hotel room. Fletch sitting next to her on the plane ride back to Perth, holding her hand in his or letting her rest her head on his shoulder and sleep. Fletch meeting her family for the first time, unable to believe how welcoming and inclusive they all were.

  ‘I thought your father at least would have been angry with you. He didn’t exactly give his approval when you spoke to him on the phone,’ he’d told her as they’d headed to the bedroom Molly’s stepmother had set up for them.

  ‘He’s my dad. He loves me. Faults and all.’

  ‘Really? I didn’t know that sort of love existed…at least, until I met you.’ He’d kissed her and held her tight, Molly wondering whether there would ever come a time when she wouldn’t want his arms around her. She hadn’t been able to even contemplate that.

  ‘Fletch. We need to work at this,’ she’d told him a few nights later as they’d allowed the soft sea breeze from the Indian ocean to wash over them, cooling them down.

  ‘I know. Marriage isn’t easy. I’ve had daily proof of that for most of my life. My parents hate each other.’

  ‘You’re joking?’ Molly had snuggled closer to him, her tone radiating disbelief and that Fletch really was teasing her.

  ‘No.’

  It was then she’d heard the pain in his voice and she’d shifted, raising herself up onto her elbow to look at him. ‘Really? They hate each other?’

  ‘Yes. I have no idea why they’ve stayed together all these years. Probably to keep making each other miserable,’ he’d muttered and closed his eyes.

  ‘Surely they must love each other deep down inside, otherwise they would have divorced.’

  ‘My mother has refused to grant my father a divorce, even though he’s had several affairs.’

  ‘What?’ Molly had been completely stunned. ‘Er…I mean I know some marriages are bad and that everything’s not roses all the time but why does she stay with him?’

  ‘For the money, why else?’ He’d opened his eyes and looked at her. ‘My father made her sign a pre-nup and so if she signs the divorce papers, she gets nothing.’

  ‘And so…what? They just argue and fight?’

  ‘He’s not violent. He’d never stoop to that but both of them have tempers. My mother likes to break the very expensive china plates.’ He’d reached out a hand and brushed her hair behind her ear. ‘Sometimes I think she does it purposely so she can go and buy a new set.’

  ‘But what about you? Surely they’re OK with you? Not being mean. Not to you.’

  Fletch had leaned over and kissed her nose. ‘I love so many things about you, Molly, and one of those is your occasional innocence.’

  ‘Does that mean they were horrible to you, too?’

  ‘Oh, everything is done with the utmost civility. It’s not as though they throw things at me or smash china plates at my feet.’

  ‘Then what did they do?’

  ‘Ignored me when it suited them or lavished me with attention simply to annoy the other. Once, my father bought me a very expensive dirt bike just to annoy my mother as she wanted to spend money on recarpeting the house.’

  ‘How old were you?’

  He’d thought for a moment. ‘I was home from boarding school so I must have been about eleven or twelve.’

  ‘You went to boarding school?’

  ‘It was better than stay at home with the two of them.’

  Molly had kissed him firmly, slipping her arms about his neck and holding him close. ‘Poor Fletch. Poor young Fletch, poor teenage Fletch, poor adult Fletch. I wish I could have saved you.’

  He’d chuckled at her words and kissed her back. ‘You’ve saved me now, Molly, and I can’t thank you enough.’

  She’d raised her eyebrows suggestively. ‘Well…you could try.’ She’d giggled as he’d responded by kissing her with more determination, caressing her with more tenderness, and making sweet love to his beautiful wife.

  *

  When Molly awoke the next morning, she could hear Fletcher next door, whistling as he moved about in the kitchen. Had he always liked cooking in the morning? She could remember him bringing her breakfast in bed on the odd occasion but that was usually when he was home for the short periods of time.

  He’d ended up spending more time on the eastern coast of Australian than the western.

  ‘But that’s all in the past,’ she whispered to herself as she climbed out of bed, stretching languorously before heading towards the bathroom. She smiled at her reflection.

  ‘Such lovely dreams. Such lovely memories.’ She sighed with delight, pleased that she did have good memories of their time together. Perhaps…if he weren’t with Eliza…there might have been the slightest chance that they could…

  She stopped the thought. Nothing would come of going down that path and right now she wanted to bask a bit longer in her wonderful dreams of the man who had stolen her heart so long ago and might…might still have it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  FLETCHER WALKED INTO his side of the duplex and threw his keys onto the table by the door. He looked at the wall, the wall that connected his place with Molly’s. It had been a hectic day, lecturing and answering questions and doing his best to have minimal contact with the woman who was still legally his wife.

  Tomorrow evening he would be alone with her in a car, driving to her siblings’ house to spend the weekend with the only real family he’d ever known. Although it had only been for a short time and although it had been many years ago, Fletch still had a deep fondness and connection with his sisters-in-law. He’d also been deeply saddened to hear about the death of Arn and
Letisha because Arn had certainly been more of a father to him than his own father.

  It was one of the reasons why he wished he’d at least kept in loose contact with Molly because he would most definitely have dropped everything in order to attend their funeral, to be there to support Molly and the rest of the family. It was also his main reason for wanting to establish a level of friendship with Molly now. Yes, their lives were headed in different directions—she would soon be qualified and be wanting to flex her surgical experience and he would be…married…again. Married to Eliza.

  As he headed into the kitchen to make himself a light dinner, he knew he had to call Eliza. He hadn’t spoken to her since he’d arrived in Sydney. Well, he’d spoken to her voicemail, leaving several messages to let her know how things were going.

  ‘She’s clearly busy with her father,’ he told himself as he sautéed onions and finished chopping the mushrooms. ‘Hospital appointments, helping him recover from the treatment…’ He stopped mumbling to himself as he heard the door next door open and close. Molly was home. Standing still, he listened, closing his eyes as he imagined her moving around next door, going up the hallway towards her bedroom or the kitchen. He waited and only moved when he realised the onions were starting to burn. He quickly opened his eyes and scolded himself for getting sidetracked once again by Molly. Molly who was still his wife.

  When he heard the water start for her shower, he groaned with repressed frustration. Why were the walls between their places so thin? Since he’d moved in just a few short days ago—although it felt incredibly longer—he’d had trouble sleeping and so, when he was up and moving around at all hours of the night, he’d tried his best to keep his clattering and fumbling to a minimum so as not to wake her.

  It wasn’t normal for him not to sleep but being this close to Molly caused his mind to remain in ‘active’ mode for most of the evening. He would reflect on how they’d met, on how they’d become friends, on how they’d simply enjoyed spending time with each other. He remembered with perfect clarity the first time he’d kissed her and how she’d been incredibly concerned that it would wreck their new friendship. He remembered telling her that was impossible, that what he felt when he kissed her was nothing like he’d ever felt before.

  ‘This is true love, Molly,’ he’d whispered near her ear. ‘This sort of love doesn’t come around every day.’

  And he still believed that. He’d loved Molly with all his heart but then…then he’d ruined everything. Yes, it had been a long time ago and, yes, he regretted every word he’d said to her when she’d told him about Katie. Ever since he’d arrived in Sydney, seeing her again and feeling that overwhelming attraction, that sense of true love, flowing through him, once more knocking him for six, Fletcher hadn’t been able to stop playing the ‘what if’ game.

  What if he weren’t with Eliza? What if he and Molly followed through on the frightening natural chemistry that still existed between them? What if they decided to give it another go…to stay married?

  He shook his head and returned his attention back to cooking his omelette. He was a fool to even contemplate that scenario because he knew, deep down inside, that Molly would never be able to forgive him for what he’d said to her. He couldn’t even forgive himself so he really didn’t expect her to.

  ‘So that’s that,’ he told himself as he ignored the thought that Molly was on the other side of the wall, standing naked in the shower, beneath the spray of refreshing water.

  He took his plate into the lounge room, further away from where she was, and switched on the television, needing to drown out the memories his mind was accessing. It was far too easy for him to imagine what she would look like because he knew all too well how her blonde hair became slightly darker when it was wet, how it would be slicked back from her face, how she would use a loofa to exfoliate her supple skin, the white frothy bubbles sliding down her perfect curves. Oh, yes, he had far too many memories of Molly in the shower, memories of him joining her, memories of them…together…wet and soapy and making slow, slippery love.

  When his phone rang, startling him so completely that he was glad he’d put his full dinner plate onto the coffee table, he snatched it up more than pleased with the interruption.

  ‘Dr Thompson,’ he stated briskly before quickly clearing his throat, amazed at how husky his tone was.

  ‘Fletcher?’

  ‘Eliza!’ Guilt instantly washed over him and he eased back into the chair, closing his eyes, wishing he’d at least checked the caller identification before answering. Not that he wouldn’t have answered her call, but he might have composed himself a bit more before speaking to his fiancée, especially as he’d just been fantasising about another woman.

  ‘How, er…’ he cleared his throat again ‘…how are you? How’s your dad?’ He reached for the remote control and turned the television off so he could hear Eliza better.

  ‘He’s doing much better. I’m really proud of him. He’s had his second course of chemotherapy and still hasn’t been having too many side effects.’

  ‘That is excellent news.’

  ‘I’m so glad I was able to come and be with him, which reminds me, I think I might stay here for a while longer, if that’s OK with you.’

  ‘You don’t need to ask my permission,’ he stated. ‘Of course you must stay with your father. He needs you, plus it will be a good break for you and you can catch up with all your old friends, spend some more time with your son and just relax.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. I didn’t realise how much of a break I needed until I started to unwind a little. Your emails have been interesting. I’m sorry we kept missing each other’s calls. How are things going there?’

  ‘Good. Good.’ He glanced at the wall, grimacing as he heard something like a chair clattering across the floor before Molly cried out in pain. He immediately stood with concern and took two steps towards the door before hearing her doing her ‘stubbed toe’ song. Fletch couldn’t help but smile as he settled back down, knowing how she would be holding the sore foot in her hand, hopping around the place saying over and over, ‘I’ve stubbed my toe, I’ve stubbed my toe, I’ve stubbed my toe.’ At some point during his life with Molly, he’d seen both her sisters do the same dance in exactly the same way. When he’d asked her about it, she’d laughed.

  ‘It was Letisha’s idea when we were kids. She said that when you stub your toe, it hurts so much that if you hold your foot and hop around and sing the “I’ve stubbed my toe” song, then it helps to take your mind off the pain and, plus, it makes everyone else around you laugh, thereby releasing your own tension and frustration.’

  ‘Huh’ had been his answer. ‘Letisha’s a smart woman.’

  ‘That she is, and she’ll make an excellent mother to Jasmine and whatever other children she and my father have.’ Then Molly had smiled at him and snuggled closer, sighing contentedly.

  ‘Fletcher? Are you still there?’ Eliza’s voice came down the line.

  He snapped his thoughts back to the present. ‘Yes. Yes. Sorry, Eliza. What did you say?’

  ‘I was asking how things were going at Sydney General. How many surgeries are you doing there?’

  ‘At least four.’

  ‘Four? Wow. You’ve had more patients agree to the surgery?’

  ‘It’s been incredible, Eliza. The more I can do, the more I can train others. I’ve done one and I’m doing the next one tomorrow, then two next week with a few of the consultant surgeons assisting.’

  ‘Have you had Molly assist you yet?’

  He nodded even though she couldn’t see him. ‘She was the one I did first…er…the first surgery, that is,’ he quickly clarified his answer and Eliza chuckled.

  ‘I knew what you meant. How is she?’

  ‘Molly?’

  ‘No, the Queen of Sheba,’ she chided. ‘Of course I meant Molly, you dope.’ Eliza chuckled again. ‘Sounds as though your mind is a bit scattered but I guess it’s to be expected. Living next
door to the woman you used to be married to while working with her at the hospital and also asking her to sign new divorce papers, as well as having your fiancée in Melbourne looking after her sick father—’ Eliza stopped to take a breath. ‘Yeah, you’ve got a lot going on in that brilliant mind of yours.’

  Fletch couldn’t help but smile. ‘You’re one of the most understanding women I’ve ever met.’

  ‘That’s because we’ve been upfront with each other,’ Eliza stated. ‘Loneliness didn’t suit either of us and there are worse reasons to pursue a marriage rather than wanting a companion and close friend for the next twenty or so years.’

  ‘This is very true.’ He had been lonely before he’d met Eliza. He’d been living just for his work, for his patients, and he’d been doing that for far too long. Initially when he and Molly had separated, he’d enjoyed throwing himself into his work, but after such a long time it was Eliza who had made him realise that always giving to others would only end with him getting burnt out. After that, she’d invited him out for coffee and the basis for their non-working friendship had been established.

  They’d often gone out as friends, seeing a movie, enjoying a theatre production, going to farmers’ markets. This was the type of life Fletcher hadn’t been used to, as living and working overseas in Third World countries didn’t often leave time for such luxuries. Then, once the tour had actually begun and he’d been working and travelling every few weeks, Eliza his only constant companion, their friendship had increased, blossoming into a genuine fondness for each other.

  When she had proposed to him, not only had he been surprised but she’d been insistent that he understand that her first husband, Scotty, would always be the true love of her life.

  ‘Before he died, he implored me not to be alone for the rest of my life and at the time I didn’t listen because I had my son with me, but now he’s off at medical school, finding his own life—just as he should be.’

  ‘And you’re left on your own.’