by Vivi Holt
Tim stood by the front door, pie in hand. “Ready?” he asked.
She nodded. “You didn’t tell me I looked like I’d been rolling around in the flour.”
He laughed. “You were cute.”
Her eyes rolled. “Cute? Your definition of ‘cute’ bodes well for me – I can be such a klutz. And by the way, flour makes a really great dry shampoo, in case you were wondering.” She patted her hair and smiled wryly.
He laughed and opened the door. “Good to know. After you.”
Standing by the elevator doors, she folded her hands in front of her dress. It was a simple beige gown with large red and purple flowers, much bolder than what she’d usually wear. But she felt bolder these days, more confident. Perhaps being single the past two years had been good for her.
“I’ll drive,” said Tim.
She nodded. “Okay. I can show you the way.” Molly scanned the guest parking for Tim’s pickup, couldn’t find it and frowned.
“I didn’t drive the truck. Actually, it’s not mine – it belongs to Callum.”
Molly’s eyes narrowed. “Which is yours, then?”
“Here.”
She looked where he pointed, but didn’t see a car or a truck … it couldn’t be. “You don’t mean that motorcycle?”
He laughed and reached for the helmet that hung from the handlebars. “Yep, this is my ride. Come on, I’ve got a spare helmet – you can climb on the back.”
She tipped her head to one side. “I’m wearing a dress and you’re carrying a pie. How’s this going to work?”
“Well, it’s not just a motorcycle, as you called it – it’s a Harley-Davidson. That means saddlebags – which happens to be wide enough to hold your pie.” He carefully set the Tupperware container that held the pie into a plastic compartment on the back of the motorcycle.
She shook her head. “But … I’ve never ridden one of these before. Isn’t it dangerous?”
He laughed. “I promise to take care of you. Climb on – we’re going to be late.”
Molly took the small black helmet he offered her and put it on, grateful she hadn’t bothered styling her hair after work. She rolled her eyes. “This isn’t going to be graceful,” she mumbled.
“Excuse me?” he asked, tapping the helmet over his ear.
She pasted a smile on her face. “Nothing.” She held her dress down in front while she threw her leg over the seat. “So you don’t own a car or truck or anything like that?” she shouted.
He took hold of the handlebars, grinned and shook his head. “Nope.” The bike growled to life, its engine roar filling the quiet night.
Molly put her arms around his waist and squeezed her eyes shut tight. Wonderful – she finally found a gentleman who knew how to make apple pie, loved God and looked as though he stepped out of the pages of GQ, and the only vehicle he owned had only natural air-conditioning and was loud enough to wake the dead.
10
Tim grinned as the wind rushed by, cooling his face. It felt good to have Molly seated behind him on the Hog, her arms tight around his waist. He thought about her in a soiled apron with flour in her hair and dusting her nose – she’d looked adorable, and it had taken everything to stop himself from taking her in his arms right there in her kitchen. Pressed against his back, she felt good – right – and it warmed him to the core.
Following her frantic gestures, he pulled into her parents’ driveway and parked beside a black SUV. Before she could disentangle herself, he turned and grasped her arms, holding her in place. “What are you …?” The words died on her lips when she saw the look on his face.
He wanted to kiss her, but wasn’t sure she’d welcome it. He fought the urge and forced a smile. “Are you ready for this?”
She frowned. “I guess so. Are you?”
“Sure. I’m great with parents. They love me.” He chuckled.
One eyebrow raised, Molly studied him coolly. “Oh really? You think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you?”
He leaned closer until her breath tickled his nose and his heart pounded. “I suppose I do.”
She didn’t move, her eyes fixed on his. His whole body tensed as though ready to spring. But he didn’t want to spring – something inside him longed to stay just where he was.
“Tim … I …”
His mouth hovered over hers, and she didn’t pull away. “What is it?” he whispered. He kissed her gently, briefly, but as he pulled away his eyes slid shut for a moment. Then he gazed at her, his whole body longing for the feel of her lips on his again.
Her eyes were wide.
“What were you saying?” he asked, running a fingertip down the side of her face.
“Do you … think the apple pie made it in one piece?”
He threw his head back to laugh. “That’s not what I was expecting you to say.”
She giggled along with him. “What did you expect?”
“I thought you might say something nice, like how long you’ve been waiting for me to do that.”
She chuckled. “I think your head’s big enough. It doesn’t need any help.” She climbed off the bike, still laughing, and smoothed her dress over her legs.
“Oh, is that how it is?” He stood, stretching the kinks from his back. When he retrieved the apple pie and peeled back a corner of the Tupperware lid, he was grateful to find it still in reasonable shape – only a few wrinkles across the top crust. “See, good as new,” he stated, holding the box up.
“Glad to see it.” She took the pie and headed for the front door.
Her parents’ place was very different from his family home. It was built in an ultra-modern style and set back from the road, with trees and bushes crowded against one another, a tall fence surrounding it and a security gate that swung shut behind them with a squeak. The house was three stories high with various jagged corners and levels, a concrete finish, high windows and glass features. Everything was gray or glass – it looked cold and unwelcoming. He hoped it didn’t reflect its occupants.
She hadn’t said anything about the kiss. He frowned as he followed her up the steps – how was he supposed to know what she was thinking if she didn’t tell him? Their first kiss, and she was acting as if it hadn’t happened. Perhaps it wasn’t as earth-shattering for her as it had been for him.
When her mother answered the door, Tim forced a smile. He just had to get through the evening and hope for the best. As for what came after that, he had no idea. Would she still want to go through with their plan after their shared kiss? All he knew was he didn’t want to walk away, or to let things go back to the way they were. For him, everything had changed.
Stan Beluga pushed a piece of bread around his plate, soaking up the remnants of the gravy. “You know my dad used to work with your grandfather over at the Chronicle?”
Usually Tim loved pot roast, but his stomach was in knots. It wasn’t that Molly’s folks were inhospitable, but he could feel the tension simmering below the surface, fueled by all that remained unsaid about the rift between their families. “I do – my grandfather talks about it every now and then. He remembers those times fondly.” The last thing he wanted was to remind Molly’s father of all the reasons why having Tim in their daughter’s life and in their home was a bad idea.
“I’m glad he does,” Stan mumbled, pushing his chair away from the table and leaning back to link his hands behind his head. “Dad has quite a different perspective.”
“Now, Stan, let’s not start anything,” Molly’s mother Penny admonished.
“I’m not starting anything. I’m just saying … the boy should know that it’s not all on our end. The conflict between our families could’ve been avoided, that’s all.”
Tim bit his lip. He should stay quiet. He knew what Stan was trying to do, but he couldn’t afford to engage with him. It would ruin everything he and Molly were trying to achieve. Their goal was to repair fences, not smash them.
“Tim and I are hoping we’ll be able to bring an end to the feu
d between our families,” Molly replied. “There’s going to be a wedding, so you’ll all have to get along. Otherwise it’ll be awkward and tense, and I don’t think any of us wants that.”
Her words echoed Tim’s thoughts and he smiled at her gratefully. “Stan isn’t a name you hear much anymore,” he said in an attempt to change the subject. “Where is it from?”
Stan stared at him beneath bushy eyebrows, his eyes dark. “It’s … English.”
Tim nodded and returned his attention to the bread roll he’d been picking at for the past ten minutes.
“Did you know your father’s paper stole a story idea, scooped it right out from under us last month? We had to come up with an entirely new concept for the front page. Then, of course, there was the whole thing with Amanda’s stabbing …”
“I’m sorry about that, Stan. I don’t have anything to do with the paper, as I’m sure Molly told you – I’m a firefighter. I have no insight into what goes on at the Chron day to day.”
“They’re going online, is what! Online, so they have a twenty-four hour news cycle. That means if we have a story lined up for our headline, they can break it immediately and undermine our entire print run before it’s even happened.”
Tim cleared his throat. This wasn’t going well.
Penny had been sitting quietly for most of the meal, but her face was getting splotchy under the stress. “The thing is,” she began as if in mid-conversation, “neither one of you has thought this through. You barely know each other and you’re planning to marry. It isn’t sensible.”
Tim glanced at Molly and noticed her face was as red as her mother’s. She caught his eye and shook her head as if to apologize. “Momma, we’re in love …”
“Love is all well and good, honey, but it won’t be enough. Not when things get hard. You have to know each other and like each other. Marriage is a long commitment – for the rest of your lives. I want you to be happy, honey, but you’ve got to consider the consequences of marrying the wrong man.” Penny stared down at her hands, which she was wringing together in front of her. “I just think you should wait, give it some time …”
“But we can’t!” shouted Molly. She was out of her chair, her eyes flashing.
“Why not?” Her father’s brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed.
“Because we’re already married!”
Tim’s heart leaped into his throat and he stood as well. What was she doing? Had she lost her mind? This wasn’t the way to take things – it’d only incense her parents further. They wanted her to slow things down, and here she was with her foot firmly planted on the accelerator.
Molly stared at her mom, then her dad, her eyes wide. They looked shell-shocked. Dad spoke first. “You’re already married?”
She nodded vaguely, still unsure why she’d said that. Her parents had been objecting to the whole engagement and it wasn’t real anyway, and for a single crazy moment she’d thought, why not say we’re married? Then they can’t object any longer. We’re not getting anywhere with things the way they are – might as well take them all the way.
She took a slow breath and dared a glance in Tim’s direction. He stared at her with his mouth ajar, and her heart sank. Perhaps she’d taken it too far. It felt as though the whole ruse was getting out of control, tumbling like a giant snowball downhill, getting larger and gathering momentum as it went. Well, there wasn’t anything to be done about it now.
“I don’t understand,” Momma replied. “Why would you do that? Why get married in such a hurry? You’ve just met. I mean, do you even know each other, really? And where’s your ring?”
Tim reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “We do know each other. And we want to spend the rest of our lives together, beginning right away. It has been fast, we admit that – that’s why we haven’t selected a ring yet. We’ll shop for one soon.”
Molly exhaled – she hadn’t been sure he would side with her, and was grateful he had. “That’s right. We love each other and there’s no point in waiting. Besides, the whole family dynamic made it so difficult – we just thought it’d be simpler to get married, then get together and have a big family celebration.”
“But we could’ve done that next spring. I thought you’d have a big wedding, that you’d wear white …” Momma’s voice thickened with emotion.
“I’m sorry, Momma. I didn’t think about how it would affect you …”
“You sure didn’t!” Dad spluttered. “Who do you think a wedding is for – the bride and groom?”
She frowned. “Yes, of course.”
“Well, it’s not – and if you’d given it a bit of thought you would’ve realized that. It’s for their families, their parents. It’s for the rest of us to celebrate and enjoy. And you’ve taken that away from us. Who knows if Amanda will ever marry? You might be our only child to have a wedding, and now you’ve stolen that from your mother. I’m very disappointed in you, Molly.” Daddy stood and marched from the room, letting his napkin fall from his lap to the floor. Momma sniffled into her hands.
Molly bit her lip, her heart heavy. She really should’ve given it a bit more thought before she’d blurted out they were already married. She met Tim’s eyes and he shook his head at her, mouthing the words, What were you thinking?
She shook her head. “I think we should have dessert,” she said, resolved not to let the entire evening fall into ruin. “I’ll just go and get the apple pie.”
“There’s ice cream in the freezer,” Momma said, smoothing her hair back and composing her features.
Molly hurried toward the kitchen, her stomach churning. Tim followed, leaning against the counter while she sliced the steaming-hot pie. “Ouch!” She licked her fingers where they’d been scalded by the filling, then returned to her task.
“So we’re married, huh?” Tim arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “That really blew things up.”
She nodded. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that … well, you heard them. They weren’t going to let it go. And I couldn’t see them making an effort to get along with your family, not while they weren’t taking our relationship seriously.” She put slices of pie into bowls, then went to the freezer, found a quart of Breyers vanilla bean ice cream and carried it back to the counter.
“I get that. But still, we should probably have talked about taking it to the next level, since now I’ll have to tell my family as well.”
She sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“I really didn’t want to take it so far.”
She stared at him, her eyebrows low and her gut roiling. “Well, maybe you should just fake break-up with me, then. It’s not like we’re really married.”
He scowled and stalked from the kitchen.
Molly watched him leave, even as her lower lip trembled. None of this was going according to plan. She’d managed to mess everything up in the space of five minutes. She scooped ice cream into each bowl and carried two of them back to the dining room with her, her throat tight and her chin set. All she had to do was make it through dessert, then she could go home, bury herself in bed, binge Netflix and forget this night ever happened.
Molly tugged on Daisy’s leash, her shoulders slouched. They were on their way to a training class they’d attended the past four Saturdays at the dog park. Molly wasn’t sure it was a good use of her time or money, since she hadn’t seen much progress. Daisy appeared determined to fight off every attempt at teaching her manners or obedience.
Molly trudged on, her mind in turmoil. There was something different about the pain of having everyone she cared about angry at her at once. It made her chest ache and her eyes sting. Tim hadn’t said a word to her since they left her parents’ house. He’d dropped her home and waved goodbye, but hadn’t gotten off his bike to walk her to her apartment, and she couldn’t talk to him over the bike’s deafening engine. She’d tried calling him after she got into her pajamas, but he didn’t answer his phone. Was he avoiding her?
&nbs
p; Daisy tried darting after a squirrel. The animal scaled a nearby oak tree and scolded the dog, who tugged furiously on her leash, almost pulling free of Molly’s grasp. “Daisy, stop it!” Molly yanked hard and the dog finally relented, returning to a pleasant trot with her ears flopping.
Molly spied the class, dogs all in a line, their owners hovering over them offering pats and words of encouragement. It was about to start. They always met beside the park, and she’d begun to make friendships with some of the other dog owners in the group. Daisy was the largest dog there – most of the others were small breeds: two Maltese, one King Charles spaniel, a Shih Tzu/poodle cross and a small Pekinese puppy.
“Mornin’, Molly,” called Ken the dog trainer. He wore tight bicycle shorts and a blue tank top.
“Good morning.”
“How’s Daisy this morning? Is she ready to listen?” Ken chuckled and squatted to pat the dog.
Molly’s eyes rolled. “Who knows? I’m hoping she’ll do better than last week, at least.”
“She can hardly do worse,” mumbled an older woman, cradling her Pekinese against her chest.
Molly frowned. Mrs. Goldenblum always had something to say, and it was rarely nice.
“Never mind,” replied Ken, standing to his feet. “We’re all gonna learn something new today. Everyone get in line.”
Molly tugged Daisy’s leash and hurried to the line. She was determined to mold Daisy into a respectable apartment dog, one who didn’t destroy everything she came into contact with the moment she was left alone. She knelt beside Daisy and stroked her head, and the animal gazed into her eyes lovingly, her tail thumping against the ground. “You really are adorable,” she whispered, cupping the dog’s cheeks in her hands.
And Daisy darted away, yanking the leash from Molly’s hand and trailing it behind her as she ran off across the park.
