Fuck. Griffin hastriplets. They’re impossibly cute, and I can only imagine the kind of grandbaby envy Mom’s experiencing right now. Maybe I should introduce Rachel to a barely legal boytoy who is hot and Instagrammable. That would distract her for sure. She can’t stand being alone, and loathes dating men her age. Griffin would thank me for it, too. She calls him to complain about her horrible life every time she’s between boyfriends.
“You knock that Zoey up, the kid should come out lookin’ pretty good,” Dad says, like he’s talking about cake. “She’s hot in that wholesome way. Like I could cast her as a Midwest virgin-next-door everyone wants to fuck.”
I’m going to puke. Or punch Dad in the face. “Just stop—”
“You said you were going to castme,” the redhead interjects in an annoying nasal whine.
“Yeah, but not as a Midwest virgin. Nobody’s going to buy that, cupcake,” he says. “You gotta stick to what you can pull off, know what I’m sayin’?”
“Then what?”
He closes one eye and squints at her. “Hot strip-mall gas station attendant. Crack whore with a heart of gold. Like that.”
“Really?” The woman starts hopping up and down, setting off seismic oscillations in her chest.
“Oh yeah. Straight to video and we’ll sell a million copies, sweetheart.”
Dad has no idea what her name is. That kind of detail is what Joey is for. The saddest thing is the girl has no idea Dad doesn’t mean any of it. He only does blockbuster movies that get shown in theaters all over the world.
Molly returns all too soon. Damn it. I was hoping she’d text and say,I want to go home. Meet me in the lobby.
“Everything okay?” Maybe things aren’t okay—nothing serious, but maybe she couldn’t find anything she wanted to munch on—so we can leave.
“Yes.” She smiles.
Dad brightens. “Glad you’re back, Holly! I was just telling Nicholas that—”
“No,” I say quickly, stepping between them.
Dad leans to the side. “I was just saying that—”
Owen and a blonde woman appear, disrupting my focus. Hands linked, they’re homing in on us like a pair of ICBMs. They both have the desperately determined and hopeful look of someone who’s just discovered a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.
“Oh my gosh, Molly! I had no idea you were going to be here.”
I might’ve thanked the man for interrupting my father if it weren’t for his history with Molly.
Why does he act like he’s still friendly with her? Isn’t he really here for Dad? He’s speaking to her, but his eyes keep straying to my father.
Owen looks outright ridiculous. He’s in an ill-fitting Armani tuxedo. Probably grabbed whatever was left on sale because nobody would buy something that large across their shoulders—or he was deluded enough to believe he could grow into the jacket.
But what’s even more absurd is that he thinks Molly’s going to be civil to him after what he pulled on her birthday. In addition, he laid their entire relationship bare on social media and did his best to make her come across as pathetic and uncool. Dickhead.
Molly’s mouth tightens. Finally, she looks at Owen like he’s a fly on her sushi. “Hello, Owen.”
“You really cleaned up nice. Gotta say I’m surprised.”
Son of a bitch.The light in Molly’s eyes dims for a moment. I’m itching to shove a few teeth down Owen’s throat. But she lifts her chin. “Thank you. That tux looks amazing on you. I can just feel your ‘personal brand’ rising as we speak.”
I swallow a laugh and draw her tighter to me.That’s my girl.
The bottle blonde thrusts a hand out at Molly to get her attention. This is the woman Owen dumped Molly for? Her champagne-colored dress is so tight, it looks like somebody poured molten gold over her. She’s pretty enough, but then, Los Angeles is full of “pretty enough” women who believe they have what it takes to be the next Elizabeth Taylor.
Her eyes are hard and cold, and there’s a hint of brittle desperation that betrays a deep sense of insecurity and need for attention. Owen is an idiot. He threw away a diamond for a flake of quartzite.
“Hey, I’m Dana. You remember, right? We were friends in high school!” the blonde says with a blinding smile.
“We were? The clearest memory I have of you from high school is you calling me an ugly cow behind my back and laughing with your friends,” Molly says.
