Reeling in Love

by Gloria Herrmann

  The one thing she knew for certain was that she enjoyed drinking coffee out of her yellow mug with its stupid little chip, and if she decided to move in, it was coming with her. When it came down to it, Molly was a simple woman about some things. Just as long as she had her coffee and her camera, she was good. She closed her eyes and took another sip of her coffee, and told herself, ‘just go with it’.

  * * * *

  Molly sat on the floor of her now-empty apartment. Owen was outside trying to cram more of her stuff into the rented moving truck. Mackenzie and Tiffany had helped her box up her life, and Molly had realized she had way too much stuff. Who owns that much crap in an apartment that isn’t even seven hundred square feet? The boxes that had just been loaded into the truck would prove that Molly was indeed that person—a hoarder. Not like the ‘newspaper towers up to the ceiling’ kind of hoarder, but she was just someone who owned far too many trinkets and random things that had no use or real purpose but held sentimental value. They were all packed up now. Mackenzie had helped her throw out and donate a lot of it, too, which made the madness much more bearable.

  She was grateful that her friends had stepped in to help. She had been overwhelmed the last several weeks. Moving was stressful. She’d tried to sell a lot of her furniture, but there were things that she couldn’t part with. In the back of her mind she kept thinking, just in case… Owen was tickled pink and practically humming as he filled the moving truck. He didn’t complain once. Owen had even brought help, and Tiffany kept whispering to Molly and Mackenzie about how hot his friends were and why in the hell had Molly been holding out this entire time. Molly hadn’t even met those guys until then, but Tiffany was right. These were Owen’s strong fisherman buddies, and they were extremely hot. But Molly only had eyes for one, and, to her, he was the sexiest fisherman ever and he was all hers.

  Eventually they’d gotten the job done and everyone had dispersed, leaving Molly and Owen to begin the new phase of their life together.

  “Home, sweet home,” Owen teased as they entered his home after stuffing a storage unit full with her life.

  Molly was worn out and more than a little emotional. Even though she’d been bringing some of the more essential stuff over the last couple of weeks, there was something about closing that metal door and putting on padlock on it, kind of like the final nail in the coffin. God, she was overly dramatic.

  Owen had made more than enough room for her. He’d practically given up his closet, moving most of his things into the spare room. It had made her feel a little guilty, but he’d sworn he was happy to do it.

  He hugged Molly as they stood in the open space that was now also hers. It was home now. Maybe once she added more of her own personality, it would feel more like it. Right now, it felt like she just staying over at Owen’s. Then she turned her head and caught sight of a beautiful floral arrangement. Like a burst of summer, cheerful sunflowers of different yellows and oranges were in a vase on the kitchen island. It was thoughtful of him and it warmed her heart.

  “Those are beautiful,” she said.

  “Not nearly as beautiful as what I now have in my house—our house.” Owen kissed her and Molly started to feel all the doubts about moving in erase from her mind. There would be perks to living with Owen, this being one of her favorites.

  * * * *

  Molly woke up a little confused. Where in the hell am I? This isn’t my bed? Oh yeah, it is now. Owen’s arm was draped over her, and Molly snuggled closer to him. The disorientation passed. This did feel wonderful, and she couldn’t deny that. It would just take some getting used to but, ultimately, it was the right decision. She could feel it deep down.

  “Good morning,” Owen whispered. His voice was rough and thick with sleep. He pulled her even closer to him. “That’s better.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” She purposely wiggled her bottom against his hard erection.

  He moved his hand to cup her breast, squeezing it softly, then running it down her side. It made her shiver and started the heat building deep inside her. They’d slept naked, only because they had been too exhausted to get up and put pajamas on after they had celebrated her moving in with some of the best love-making they’d enjoyed to date. Molly hadn’t even realized she’d fallen asleep, but it had been the best kind—deep, coma-like slumber, the type where you don’t move or switch positions all night. It had been one of the best sleeps she’d had in a very long time. Waking up in Owen’s arms had been just the icing on the cake.

  “How did you sleep?” he asked, as he started to explore more of her body. Like I can hold a conversation with him touching me like this?

  “Great. You?” she managed when the sudden urge to pee hit her.

  “Great, because you were next to me.” His hand ventured lower but she had to stop him.

  “I gotta pee.” Molly bolted out of bed, heading to the adjoining master bathroom.

  “Way to kill the mood, babe,” he called out.

  “Hey, you wanted a live-in girlfriend. Get used to it, buddy.”

  He laughed.

  Yes, this is going to work.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I think we got it,” Molly said confidently as she snapped another shot. “You know, though… Let’s do one more.” She wasn’t satisfied with the image she’d just peeked at on the tiny screen of her camera. This one had to be perfect. There was no room for error.

  It was by far the biggest deal Molly had landed, and in front of her was one the most famous and sought-after models in the industry—Diane Sinclair. She was nearly six feet tall, all legs, and she probably had the best ass Molly had ever seen. Was she jealous of how gorgeous this creature was? Hell, yes. Did she love her attitude? Hell, no. The woman was by far the bitchiest model she’d ever worked with. She was snotty, rude and knew she could get away with just about anything. That made working with her even worse. Molly had to play nice and be on her best behavior. If either Mackenzie or Tiffany had had to deal with this model, they wouldn’t have lasted five minutes without telling her off. To say Molly’s tongue hurt from biting it was an understatement. She would survive just a few more shots.

  The doorbell rang. The model rolled her eyes in annoyance.

  “I’m so sorry. Let me just see who that is.” Molly scurried quickly to the door, not even putting her camera down, as another ring shot out. Oh dear Lord, really?

  “I’m coming,” Molly yelled as she reached the large double doors. When she opened one, she saw Owen standing there with their usual afternoon coffee. Crap. She would have to send him away. Hadn’t she told him about this insanely important shoot?

  “Hey, babe,” Owen said right before he kissed her forehead.

  “I’m working. Remember that really, really important client and model I am working with?”

  “Was that today?” He shrugged and moved past her. “I’m sorry. I just knew you probably needed coffee and I missed you like crazy.” Owen paused to kiss her on top of her head, then headed for the large glass table.

  As sweet as it was for him to stop by and to be missing her so badly, she was too irritated with this model to appreciate it. Molly huffed as she shut the door then followed him inside the studio.

  Suddenly everything changed. She saw Owen’s back grow rigid and he turned around to look at Molly. Confusion, mixed with something else, swirled in his eyes—maybe shock, or was it fear? Molly wasn’t quite able to make it out.

  “You okay?” Molly asked. Then Owen looked back at the model. The color had drained from his handsome face. Okay, now she was worried. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

  “Owen?” Diane’s aristocratic voice sounded in the studio, loud and arrogant.

  They know each other? How is that possible? Now Molly was even more confused.

  Owen stood there like a frozen statue. He was still holding the coffee. Molly carefully grabbed her precious caffeine from him. “Babe, you okay?” she whispered as she pried the cardboard drink holder from his hands.


  “Um…” Owen tried to speak.

  Diane strolled up to them. She towered over Molly, making her feel like an ugly Oompa Loompa. Her professionally manicured hands were on her bony hips. Her head was cocked to the side and she was biting her bottom lip. She looked every bit the cover model posing for an editorial shoot. “It is you, Owen. Funny, running into you here.”

  “Yeah, I could say the same,” Owen’s voice was deep and it didn’t sound happy one bit.

  Molly looked at both of them, watching the stand-off and wondering what in the hell she was missing. She was lost.

  “Owen, you know Diane?” Molly asked sweetly, being sure not to ruffle the model’s feathers.

  “Yep, I sure do, but it was a long time ago.” His gaze was fixed on Diane. Neither of them moved and Molly started to feel uneasy.

  “It was a very long time ago. Almost ancient history, right?” Diane laughed. It was more of a cackle and her lips bared her flawless teeth, stark white against the cherry-red-stained lips.

  Owen’s eyebrows furrowed and he glared at Diane. Molly could feel the anger and hate coming from him. This was not the Owen she knew and loved. Who is this guy?

  Finally, Molly had enough of feeling out of the loop and asked, “Sorry, but how do you guys know each other?”

  Diane whipped around to look at Molly, her blonde waves sweeping across her thin, tan shoulders as she said, “He’s my husband.”

  * * * *

  Molly’s eyes hurt. They were red, swollen and raw, just like she felt inside. Well, gutted was a more accurate description. She was in Mackenzie’s arms. Tiffany was patting her back and whispering that everything would be okay. How can it be? Owen had failed to mention that he’d been married—or, rather, that he was still married. That was one of those major topics that should have come up, at least after the first date and most definitely before he’d invited her to meet his parents or have her move in. How could he not tell me?

  “Wow,” Mackenzie kept repeating. She was in shock. Hell, they all were.

  “I can’t believe he didn’t say anything about her.” More tears poured from her. It was heartbreaking.

  This was the other shoe, the thing she’d been waiting for. She had known everything was too good to be true. Of course, some sort of shady shit had to go down, because that was Molly’s luck. The universe hated her. It was that simple. She’d finally been happy. Living with Owen had proved to be far better than she could have imagined. Stupid things like sitting and watching television were better with him—cooking together, cleaning the house together and sleeping together. The thoughts of marriage had been circulating through her mind the last few days. Even Owen had joked and called her wifey. Thinking about that now made her furious.

  It was very clear to Molly. They had been playing house. That was all it had been.

  Molly’s heart squeezed. She was so broken.

  But it appeared her friends weren’t going to allow her to stay that way.

  “Get up. We’re going out,” Mackenzie announced as she pulled the comforter off Molly. Molly tried to yank it back. She wanted to hide back inside her cocoon. The outside world had no appeal.

  “Tiffany, a little help, please,” Mackenzie yelled.

  Molly had taken residence up in Mackenzie’s guest room for the past two days. Tiffany had come over that afternoon. Is it afternoon? Molly didn’t know or care.

  She could hear Tiffany enter the room. “Molly, come on, love. You gotta get up.”

  “Nope, I actually don’t. Thanks,” Molly argued.

  “We are going out. We need alcohol, and you need a shower,” Mackenzie stated firmly.

  “Can’t we just get drunk here?” Molly offered.

  “No,” Tiffany and Mackenzie said in unison.

  “I don’t want to go anywhere. Please don’t make me,” Molly begged, but knew it fell on deaf ears.

  A telephone was ringing in the other room and Mackenzie set off to answer it, but she gave Molly a look, telling her to get her ass up now.

  Moments later Mackenzie returned, wearing a sour expression on her face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. It was Owen, calling for you again. Moll, before I say anything else, did you talk to him at all after you found out?”

  “She didn’t have to, Mackenzie. Owen lied to her,” Tiffany quickly defended her.

  Lied was a strong word, but saying he’d withheld information seemed far too nice. It had been, and still was, easier to go with liar.

  “Well, according to him, you didn’t even let him explain,” Mackenzie said.

  “Screw him, Mackenzie. Do not defend his ass. He broke her heart. There’s nothing more to discuss. He didn’t tell her he was married. I’m sorry, but that’s not okay with me,” Tiffany spat. She’d joined Molly on the bed and was prepared to face off with Mackenzie, who stood inside the room with her arms across her chest.

  “Molly, do you love Owen? Yes or no?”

  Molly still did, but she was furious with him. She didn’t answer Mackenzie because they all knew the truth. She hadn’t just fallen out of love with Owen, even when it felt like he’d chopped her heart in half, leaving it splintered and ruined.

  “You know the answer. Forget it.” She threw her hands up in the air and stomped out of the room, leaving Molly and Tiffany.

  Tiffany exhaled loudly. “I support you, no matter what. You know that. But did Owen explain what the hell was the deal?”

  Molly shook her head.

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because I didn’t give him a chance,” Molly admitted softly.

  Tiffany hugged her. “Eeww. Mackenzie’s right. You do need to shower,” Tiffany teased, causing Molly to laugh through the steady stream of tears that were now falling.

  She was still crying when she threw back the comforter and headed to the bathroom, resigned to her watery fate. She’d managed to stop by the time she got back. Fortunately—or unfortunately, Molly wasn’t sure—her friends were both waiting for her.

  Mackenzie brushed Molly’s clean and partially wet hair while she sat like a bump on a log. Tiffany insisted they should go out, and she was applying an ample amount of concealer and eye makeup on Molly to hide the puffy and gross result of crying for two days. Molly was not the least bit interested in venturing outside. The thought of interacting with people held little appeal, but she would happily consume more adult beverages.

  Molly lifted her glass. The contents were simple vodka and orange juice. The screwdriver was helping her mood considerably. She downed the last little bit and was sad it was gone. Who was she kidding? She was just plain sad in general. Everything was shit. Alcohol was only making that clearer.

  “You know, I really thought about marrying him, and to think I couldn’t, even if I’d wanted to,” Molly commented as Tiffany took her empty cup.

  “No more discussing Owen.”

  “She needs to, Tiffany. Well, what she really needs to do is to call him,” Mackenzie said as she ran the hot hair straightener through Molly’s now-dry brown locks.

  “There’s time for that later. Right now she needs to forget her troubles.”

  Molly didn’t think all the drinks in the world could make her forget. That was all she’d been doing—thinking, lots and lots of it. And as sick of it as she was, she knew she was going to continue to think about Owen until she did speak to him.

  “Can you make me another screwdriver, Tiffany?” Molly asked. She knew she wouldn’t be able to dull her thinking, but she might as well numb the hurt.

  She didn’t know how many drinks that would take, but as they went out of the door, she vowed to find out. Several bars later, she knew it was impossible.

  “God, I miss him,” Molly slurred. The alcohol hadn’t helped. It had only made things worse. Now she was crooning about her true love. Mackenzie looked annoyed and Tiffany only pretended to listen.

  They had made the bar crawl and were now sitting in one that was abo
ut to close. They’d called a cab and when it arrived, they would soon be home.

  “I know you do. I hate to admit it, but Mackenzie’s right.”

  Mackenzie perked up at the sound of her voice. “Really? Tell us more about this incredible creature known as Mackenzie.”

  They all laughed.

  “Molly needs to call Owen. How else is she going to finally stop talking about him? I don’t know about you, but I’m kinda over it.” Tiffany sucked more rum through her straw and winked at Molly.

  “I’m sorry that I’m so annoying.”

  “Yeah, you are a little,” Tiffany agreed. Mackenzie playfully slapped her to hush.

  “Molly, babe, you’re hurting. You finally found the right guy and you feel betrayed. But you need to call him. Trust this old girl, okay?”

  Molly nodded. Mackenzie never steered her wrong. She only wanted to the best for her. Tiffany had her back, no matter if Molly was in the right or wrong. She was the ride and die kind of friend. Molly was lucky to have these women in her corner. No matter what happened with Owen, she’d always have them.

  * * * *

  Molly tried to peel her eyes open when she heard people talking in the other room. The light noise had woken her up. She tried burrowing farther into her comforter, but she knew there was no escape. Then she heard his distinct laugh. What the hell is Owen doing here?

  She waited and listened. Sure enough, it was him. Molly tried to gather her wits, despite having a killer hangover, and she got out of bed. She didn’t care if she looked like death warmed over. She wanted to know why he was there and why Mackenzie hadn’t gotten rid of him yet.

  Mackenzie’s eyes grew wide when Molly shuffled into the living room. There on the couch sat Owen and another guy, the bouncer from Vegas. Molly froze. Crap. Then she spun around fast and darted off into the bathroom.