He just didn’t want me there. Great.
I brush it off. “That’s okay. Let’s get started.”
Molly nods, her bunch of dark hair bouncing on the top of her head. She leads me back to the front door, and I don’t miss the careful effort put into the flowerbeds. “This is your mom’s?”
“Yeah,” Molly hums. “My dad bought this place for her when he got out. She wanted us all to be in the same area, I guess.” She uses her foot to push in the door. “She finished law school when I was younger, but never really did anything with it.”
“Oh,” I keep my voice even, like I’m not intimidated in the slightest.
I mean, honestly… There’s no reason to be. Calvin Bradford is clearly avoiding me like the plague. And I’m just the woman he fucked in the back of the parking lot, which shows exactly where I rank.
Just a couple notches above a prostitute. Cool.
“Her boyfriend lives here, too,” Molly says, leading me into a rustically decorated dining room, with a large farmhouse style table. Her things are already spread out across the top, and I set my bag down opposite of her.
“Well, this is a very nice house.”
Molly meets my gaze, and then shrugs. “My dad says it was his job to make sure my mom was taken care of.” She then pauses, plopping down on the bench style seat. “I think he would’ve just pretended like she didn’t exist, if I would’ve been involved.”
“Oh, I see…” My voice trails off, and I can feel the heat creeping up my neck, as Molly leans her chin against the palm of her hand.
“He didn’t even love my mom that much, I don’t think. Mom says they were just young, and Dad was deploying. They got married, and then stay married because of me—and the fact that Dad was never around. He was always gone, so I think that made it easier to prolong the ending.”
I pull out my notes, but don’t flip them open. “I think that happens a lot with military marriages.”
Molly shrugs, unphased by the topic. “It probably does, but my mom swears he wasn’t really her person.”
Why is she telling me all this?
“And when she realized that, she ended up sleeping with some guy, and then filing for divorce like a week later—all while my dad was in Iraq.”
“That’s… That’s a lot.” I don’t even know what to say to that info dump.
She nods. “My dad acts like he wasn’t upset about it, but I think he was. He’s never really dated since my mom, and always said that it was for stability purposes, you know? But all that happened fifteen years ago. I think he’s been plenty stable for me.” She lets out a laugh, shaking her head.
“Yeah, you’re an adult now,” I point out, tugging my fleece jacket around me a little tighter and shifting on the hard bench.
She picks at the edge of her notebook. “And I want him to find someone.” Her eyes jump to mine, her cheeks tinged a dark shade of red. “Do you like him?”
Oh my god. Does she know? Surely… Would hetellhis daughter?
“Um…” My eyes jump from hers to across the living room, where there’s a set of open French doors. I can make out an office of some sort through them, and I stare at a bookcase in the distance until my vision goes blurry.
“Sorry,” Molly clears her throat. “I’m being totally inappropriate right now.”
“It’s completely okay,” I say, swallowing the sigh of relief. I’m all for talking about her dad, but I’d rather avoid myself. The less lies I have to maintain, the better.
She slide across her notebook, which I realize is full of what looks to be a draft. “I decided to take a break from the screen,” she adds, giving me a smile. “I’ll type it up, I just want your opinion.”
I nod, but don’t have a chance to make it through even the first line, before voices fill the kitchen. My gaze rips upward, and I’m met with a pair of light eyes beneath dark curls.
“You must be Dr. Williams,” the woman says, a pleasant smile on her face. She appears older than what I expected, but gracefully beautiful. “I’m Maren Johnson, Molly’s mom. This is Mark.” She gestures to the man beside her, that I had completely missed.
“Hi.” He gives me a nod as he towers behind Maren, his dark eyes penetrating mine in the most uncomfortable way.Everythingabout his aura is off.
I can feel it.
“It’s nice to meet the two of you.” I don’t let my discomfort show, though I’m pretty sure not blinking at all is a sign of discomfort.
