Reeling in Love

by Gloria Herrmann

  Mackenzie followed her and tapped on the door. “Molly, can I come in?” Molly opened the door and Mackenzie slipped through.

  Molly sat on the edge of the tub, running her fingers like mad through her tangled hair. “Why didn’t you wake me up or tell me people were here?” Molly was seething mad. “I look like hell, Mackenzie.”

  “You don’t look that awful. They just showed up—both of them at the same time. What was I supposed to do?” Mackenzie grabbed a washcloth, ran it under warm water then handed it to Molly.

  “I don’t know. Friggin’ warn me before I came out looking like this? Especially that it wasn’t just Owen.”

  Mackenzie sighed.

  “What does he want?”

  “Owen’s here for you,” Mackenzie started to answer.

  “Not him, the bouncer dude.”

  Mackenzie blushed. “Well, he and I have been texting and he wanted to surprise me, I guess. He had some business in Seattle and decided to stop by.”

  “Well, isn’t that sweet?” Molly stuck her finger down her throat.

  “Stop. Just because you are having love troubles doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a little romance.”

  “Whatever. So what does Owen want? Did he say anything?”

  “Not too much, because Jason came around the same time. But Owen looks terrible. You guys really do make quite the pair,” Mackenzie teased.

  “We aren’t a pair anymore. Good. I’m glad he looks like a wreck.” Molly had lied. She wasn’t happy that he was suffering. She wanted nothing more than to run out there, hug him and beg him to tell her it was all some dumb mistake.

  “Moll, it’s going to be okay, but you need to talk to Owen.”

  “Please, not now. I feel like shit and look it.” She felt queasy. The night’s beverages were ready to pay her a visit.

  “Seriously? You don’t want me to send him in?”

  “Please, no. I just can’t right now.”

  Mackenzie nodded. She understood. She might not agree with Molly, but she clearly understood. Mackenzie left the bathroom and Molly purged the night’s entertainment until she was empty.

  * * * *

  “Do you think I should sell my studio?” Molly asked as she and Mackenzie drank coffee in the sunny dining room the next morning.

  “Why in God’s name would you do that?” Mackenzie held up a green jumbo-sized mug. That woman loved her coffee almost as much as she did—at least, in terms of quantity. She still butchered it with too much cream and sugar.

  “Because it’s like I can’t even go back in there.”

  “Oh, stop. I could understand if he was screwing someone in there. This is not the same thing and that is your special place, so knock it off.”

  “You don’t see how the environment is now tainted?” Molly lifted a mug that was most certainly not her favorite yellow one, but it had Van Gogh’s painting, Starry Night, covering every inch of it, so that made it kind of cool. Her poor mug was being held captive in the fortress where she had no intention of ever returning.

  “It’s not. You still need to talk to him.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss,” Molly argued softly.

  “Okay, that’s it. Yesterday morning when he showed up here, you were too sick and scared to deal with it. Today, you will. I am tired of you moping around here and belly-aching about him. Thinking about selling your studio… Have you lost your shit? Because you are about to make me lose mine,” Mackenzie nearly shouted in frustration. “This is why we are not roommates. You drive me crazy.”

  “Oh, and you’re a peach to live with?” Molly rolled her eyes. Maybe she was overreacting a tad. Mackenzie was right on so many levels and Molly hated that. Now she understood why Tiffany always got upset. It sucked having someone always giving advice and it always being right. “Fine,” she relented. “I’ll call him.”

  “Thank God.” Mackenzie got up, put her mug in the sink then went into her bedroom.

  Wow, is Mackenzie really that upset with me? Molly finished her coffee then sulked in the room she had deemed as hers. It had nothing of hers in it. All that she owned was either at Owen’s or in some stupid storage unit.

  She gazed at her cell phone. She procrastinated, fiddling with some images in the photo gallery. Why am I stalling? Won’t it be better to just get it over with?

  Molly swallowed back the lump that was forming, along with torrent of nausea, that swam in her belly. She dialed his number.

  “Molly,” Owen answered on the third ring. “Please don’t hang up, babe.”

  The sound of his voice was torture. God, she missed him, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. No words wanted to come out of her mouth.

  “Before you hang up, please, just let me explain. Can we grab dinner or can I come over? Please, sweetheart, please,” Owen begged.

  “Okay,” was all she could manage.

  “Okay? Like come over or go out—or just talk right now?”

  When she finally found her voice, she said, “I don’t know, Owen.”

  “Babe, I know you’re upset and you have every right to be, but I can explain everything.”

  “Can you? Because it seems pretty cut and dried. You’re married.” Molly felt herself grow angry.

  “Babe, I’m not. I was married—past tense. I’m divorced,” Owen explained.

  “But Diane said you were her husband.” Molly was confused. Is he or isn’t he married?

  “Yeah, she loves to say that to get under my skin. Trust me. We can’t stand one another, and I think once she realized you were my girlfriend, she wanted to hurt not only me, but you, too.”

  “So, wait. You were married, but you still never told me about it. Why?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I never thought about it. It was so long ago, and it is something I try to block out of my memory, to be honest.”

  She could tell he wasn’t lying. There had been no malicious intent on his part. “I still wish you had said something.”

  “You’re right. I should have. It never crossed my mind. I was only focused on us, Molly. You bring so much happiness into my life. That’s all I could see. It’s like I didn’t even have a past before I met you, that I could only see our future and nothing else mattered.”

  “But marriage is a big effing deal. How could you just forget that you were married, once upon a time?” Molly’s voice cracked, strained under the pressures of the volume of hurt she’d been holding in.

  She heard him release a heavy sigh. “It was a long time ago, way before she was some big-time model and back when I thought that I wanted to be a big deal, too. I had my moment in the spotlight and I didn’t like it, but she did. We were so young and stupid. I thought I knew what love was, but I never experienced the real thing until I met you, sweetheart.”

  Tears started to run down Molly’s cheeks. “Oh, Owen,” she whimpered.

  “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. It kills me knowing I caused you any kind of pain.” He paused and there was silence. “I love you, Molly.”

  Just like that, once he said them, those three little words mended her broken and savagely torn heart. It made mountains move and birds sing. It was what she’d longed to hear but, more importantly, what she’d needed to hear.

  * * * *

  Molly had agreed Owen could pick her up from Mackenzie’s house. She was pacing the living room waiting for him. Mackenzie sat on the couch, watching her go back and forth.

  “Stop pacing. You’re making me dizzy,” Mackenzie ordered.

  Molly stopped for a moment. “Do you think he’s telling the truth? I didn’t get suckered again, right?”

  Mackenzie gave her a closed-lipped smile. “Molly, he told me when he called here, but it wasn’t my place to tell you. I kept telling you to talk to him. You know how women can be vicious bitches. That stupid model saw that he’d moved on, and she wanted to hurt both of you. If she knew how much pain she caused you guys, she’d probably be thrilled.”

  “God, how
evil is that, though? Who in the hell does that?”

  Mackenzie shook her head and said, “Bitter bitches like that. You can’t let her have that victory. Owen is your man now, and you need to fight for your happiness.”

  “You’re right. He is mine. I love him so much, Mackenzie,” Molly exclaimed as she collapsed on the couch next to her best friend.

  “I know you do. That’s why you can’t just give up so easily. Should he have mentioned that he was divorced? Yes, he should have. Do I think he avoided telling you on purpose? No, not at all.”

  “God, Mac, why didn’t I let him explain? I have been in agony for days.”

  “Not just you,” Mackenzie joked and made a wide-eyed expression.

  “You loved having me stay with you. Don’t even try to deny it.”

  Mackenzie shrugged. “I like you better when you’re in your own home.”

  “Whatever.”

  There was a knock at the door, and Molly felt fluttering inside her. She took a deep breath, trying to tame it.

  Mackenzie eyed curiously. “Butterflies?” she asked.

  Molly nodded.

  “Good. Once you quit having those, it’s over. You should be with a man that makes you feel like that. Gid used to give me the butterflies, sometimes just by the way he would look at me or smile.” Mackenzie had the faraway look she often got when she talked about Gideon. Molly wished things would have gone differently for them.

  “So, what about Jason? Any butterflies there?” Molly asked as Mackenzie went to answer the door.

  Mackenzie smiled and replied, “There might be a few.”

  Mackenzie opened the door, moving to the side to let Owen in. The moment Owen saw Molly, he gathered her in his arms and hugged her. There was no proceeding with caution or walking on eggshells in case she was still upset. Molly melted against him. She was back where she belonged, in the arms of a man she loved with all of her flawed, over-caffeinated and quirky self.

  He finally let her go long enough for them to bid a hasty farewell to Mackenzie. She was with Owen, where she belonged. But now that they were driving, the car ride was quiet. Owen held Molly’s hand. Molly sat and reflected on everything they had been through. She watched the sun, a red ball floating above the Puget Sound. The sky was a swirl of sherbet colors, raspberry and orange. Violet clouds looked like cotton candy that was stretched across the open air. God, it was a beautiful evening.

  She hadn’t even been paying attention to where Owen was driving them. Molly was just happy to be sharing the same oxygen with him, being in close quarters, knowing that he was next to her. She had missed him terribly and, even in the silence, she was content.

  They parked near Pike Place. The smell of the raw ocean water floated on the gentle summer evening breeze. The waterfront was mildly crowded. People were taking pictures of the gorgeous sunset. Molly had forgotten her camera but was mentally snapping pictures.

  “It’s lovely, isn’t it?” she asked Owen, as he held her hand and led her toward the market.

  “Not nearly as lovely as you, but it’s pretty nice.”

  “I wish I had my camera.” Molly absorbed all the elements that surrounded her—the cries of hungry seagulls, the laughter and chatter of people just living and the warmth of the air as it kissed her bare shoulders. The light wind whispered in her ear and played with her hair that was swinging loosely. Summer evenings in Seattle were spectacular. She loved her city and, seeing the stunning view of the sun reflecting off the boats and water, she knew that there was no way she could have ever sold her studio.

  Molly felt Owen tugging her along, but she was filled with so much peace and delight that she hadn’t noticed they were already entering the market. Not as many people were there. Molly cringed as Owen led her past the nasty rainbow of the famed gum wall—gross, just plain gross. And Portland thinks they’re the weirdos.

  Owen stopped. They now stood by the fish market. It was closed for the day, and no one was around. Molly knew the significance of them being there. It was where fate had stepped in and gifted them each other. Molly’s chest heaved with emotion. Everything hit her all at once. Her body shook and tears burned her eyes. Owen scooped her up, bringing her to him. She felt secure in his arms and was surprised when he released her suddenly. She heard Owen inhale deeply and watched as he got down on one knee.

  Oh God.

  He took her hands in his and never broke eye contact. They were a soft sweater gray in the light of the shadowy evening. She could swim in those soul-baring eyes forever.

  “Molly, you know why we’re here. This is where fate threw us together,” he started to explain.

  “No, it’s where you threw a fish at me—but same difference,” Molly interrupted, causing them both to laugh.

  Owen wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye as he continued. “Molly, you are nothing I expected but everything I wanted. I couldn’t have dreamed up a better person I’d want to spend the rest of my life with.” He withdrew one hand from her and reached into his pocket. “I have been carrying this around for a while now, waiting for just the right time.” He exposed a small fish-shaped velvet box. “I knew the moment that I had you in my arms that I never wanted to let you go. That was the day I first met you.”

  Molly’s chest tightened. The words that were coming from his soul entered her like a ray of light, shooting beams of brightness, illuminating every dark corner where doubt had lived. Indecision fled as he opened the box and revealed the most gorgeous ring, a soft pink pearl in a crown of diamonds. But it was more than just the ring that he offered. “I can’t live another moment without knowing you will be in my life forever. Please say you’ll marry me?” Owen asked, his gray eyes shiny with tears.

  “Or what, you’ll hit me with another fish?”

  “You and those damn jokes.” Owen wiped the soft creases of his eyes again. “That’s why I love you, Molly. Even during the most serious of times, you manage to make me laugh. It’s like your superpower or something.”

  The truth was Molly didn’t know how to act when she was nervous and she tended to get a little goofy.

  Molly reached for Owen’s hands and yanked him up. He wrapped his arms around her, clutching the ring in his palm. “So whaddya say. Wanna marry this smelly ole fisherman?”

  “You mean sail off into the sunset with the man I love with all my heart, even though he’s been known to throw a fish at me?”

  “One fish, one time, but yeah, that guy.”

  “Then yes, I do.”

  Owen stared at her as if he didn’t believe she was real, that she was a figment of his imagination or a siren from the sea. He grabbed her hand and slipped on the ring, then kissed her more tenderly than she had ever been kissed before. It formed a bond that had been there since their first meeting, but today it burned through to her core. She could feel it searing her soul, marking her as his forever.

  Not to be outdone, Molly hooked her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Now she had marked him as hers. They were one now and Molly couldn’t be happier.

  Well, she could be, if only she had her camera to capture the moment.

  Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:

  667 Ways to F*ck Up My Life

  Lucy Woodhull

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  If there’s anything more calamitous than being fired by a scumbag, it’s having to be polite about it. I bit back all manner of choice words, lest a barrage of ‘screw yous’ and ‘blow it out your asses’ smack the venerated editor Carmichael Burns in his florid face. He was the king of choice words, after all. What could I say to him that he hadn’t already spewed across the New York Times bestseller list?

  Besides, sweet Dagmar Kostopoulos never, ever used words like that.

  “But… But…” I did manage to get out, my mouth as dry as his pretend ennui. “You’re promoting Jazmine into my role? How can that be? I have a Masters in English from Columbia.” And she had a certificate from the
Brooklyn Irony Emporium.

  Carmichael laughed at my earnestness, as he always did. He pitied me because I actually did my job studiously and worked hard, even as he told me I kept him honest. And why shouldn’t he chuckle? Jazmine had banged this ponytailed ball of pretension the moment she had gotten the job as his secretary, and now she’d ‘earned’ mine as editorial assistant. She wouldn’t know a good nonfiction book platform if it bit her on the butt. She’d let him bite her butt, though. I cracked a mirthless smile at my stupid inner monologue, then sucked in a breath because…horrors—I had just lost my job.

  The whole room went hazy. My head spun like water down a toilet bowl.

  “You’re too expensive for me, Dag,” declared the man who’d given me a raise not a month ago. “Jazmine has a certain…flair for this work. You don’t need a degree to develop je ne sais quoi.”

  I didn’t know je ne sais quoi was French for ‘showed her thong like it was 1998’.

  No—I would not be angry at Jazmine. Or her thong, which had been hella cute. We’d both known how to get promoted in Carmichael’s office. Hell, the entire publishing industry understood that you gave head to get ahead with him. She’d been willing to go there, and I hadn’t, for I’d thought my stellar performance would bypass his editing-couch antics.

  The blame lay entirely with him.

  He who smirked at me anew and said, “I know you’ll land on your feet, Dag. I’m really doing you a favor. You can do so much better than me.” His modesty rang hollow and dull. His last four books had debuted at number one everywhere—tell-alls from globetrotting manly adventurers, over-sexed Instagram stars, and jailed politicians.

  “No!” I chirped. I smiled my summa cum laude, brilliant-girl smile. “No. You need me, Carmichael. Promote Jazmine, of course”—that last bit came out a little teeth-grindingly—“but I am an essential part of this team. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get back to the business of selling books.”