Who isshe? “No idea. You have everything,” I respond with full honesty. No woman in the world is worthier than Molly.
“Then how come he proposed to her, but not me?”
“Who?”
“Owen. He proposed to Dana.”
Son of a bitch.What an asshole. How does Molly know this, anyway? Is she still pining over him? Stalking him on social media like Emmett used to with Amy?
I want to kick Owen’s balls. Kicking him in the ass wouldn’t hurt enough to satisfy me. “Molly, he’s an idiot for not seeing how wonderful you are. You deserve the absolute best—everything you want.”
“Owen said he loved me, like,three months ago. I guess he lied.” She sighs. “I should’ve known. People don’t love me.”
My veins pulse with rage.I’m going to destroy that son of a bitch.
“And my dad said I’m nothing. Maybe Iamnothing.” She looks at me. “Do you know that the only people who are nice to her are the ghosts?”
“Yes,” I say patiently. Her drunk talk would be cute, but right now it’s just sad because she’s suffering so much.
I swipe my thumbs over her tear-stained cheeks to dry them. I wish I could wipe away her pain as easily.
“Let’s get you to bed.” It’s late and she needs to sleep off the alcohol. Also, a restful night should improve her mood.
“Don’t leave me.” She tightens her hand on my shirt.
“I would never leave you.”
I turn off the TV and help her up. She sways a little, and I pull her close. She feels really good, but I remind myself this is about soothing her pain.
I lead her up the stairs. Her feet are unsteady, but I hold her protectively.
“Feels like I’m gonna fall,” she murmurs. “Steps are so slippery.”
The steps are carpeted. “I’m not letting you fall.”
“I know.” Her whisper is low, but I hear it.
My pulse accelerates. The alcohol has removed her filter, and I love knowing that she trusts me to take care of her and keep her safe.
I open the door to her room, help her inside and turn on the small nightstand lamp. She lands on the bed, but before I can step back, she reaches out and grasps my belt.
I freeze. The move would normally be a prelude to sex, but the way she is now… And no matter how long I’ve wanted her, we can’t do anything when she’s too drunk to give consent. “Molly…” I search for words to turn her down without making her feel even more rejected and unwanted. This is a delicate time.
“Don’t go,” she says, looking up at me with glazed eyes. In the soft golden light, she seems ethereal, like a forest nymph.
“But—”
“Please. I just need somebody to hold me for a bit.”
I close my eyes briefly. “Okay.”
She lets go of my belt, but holds on to my suit jacket. I shrug out of it, then, before she can worry that I’m leaving her, lie next to her in the bed in my dress shirt and slacks. She lays her head on my shoulder, then places her hand over my heart and loops a leg around one of mine, as though she’s scared I’ll disappear. She feels so soft against me, smells so sweet. It’s all I can do to lie absolutely still.
Donotdo anything stupid, like give in to the urge to kiss her.
I stroke her back, hoping to lull her into slumber, while my blood runs hot and fast in my veins. I stare at the ceiling. She shifts, shifts again, and then a third time. A vague sound comes out, like an annoyed kitten.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
