Clearly, Molly had no issue with day-old cocktails first thing in the morning.
Her eyes widened, nearly as soon as the margarita had hit her taste buds. “Travis gives good margarita,” she said.
He did.
“He left a full pitcher of them in the fridge.” Two hands around her favorite yellow FiestaWare mug, the big kind that held a solid two cups of Joe, Rachel nodded toward the refrigerator.
Molly marched across the kitchen, flung open the door, and if her eyes were wide before, this time they got so big,they resembled that of a Molly-inspired dragonfly. She closed the door, turned, leaned against it, and said, “Marry him or I will.”
Ha. No.
“I’m not getting married.” Again. Ever. Done that. Hated it. Wouldn’t repeat.
Rachel did try to learn from the mistakes of her past, the marriage one being a biggie.
Even if she considered it, Travis would absolutely not be in contention.
“Well, we’re taking this with us to the park.” Molly grabbed the pitcher from the shelf and immediately started rummaging through the cupboard,pulling out Rachel’s stock of to-go coffee cups one by one. “Who needs Sunday morning mimosas when we have Sunday morning tequila?”
Rachel sat at one of the kitchen barstools and ate her cereal while Molly ransacked the cupboards for travel mugs.
“Works for me,” Rachel said. “I need it out of the refrigerator before the boys get back this afternoon, anyway. They’ll think it’s punch and that won’t end well for any of us.”
She shivered.
Molly gave the pitcher a stir and dumped the liquid into the waiting to-go cups she’d already, and very efficiently, filled with ice.
Rachel hurried to finish her cold cereal and warm-ish coffee so they could head to the park and Oliver wouldn’t have to wait.
She glanced at Oliver lounging on her sofa. He’d been born around the same time as her boys—a few months earlier. The difference? Molly and her ex had never even tried the marriage thing. Once Ollie was born, his dad disappeared, and Molly sued him for substantial child support. She won and never looked back.
She also never seemed quite content, despite all of her theatrics.
If anything, Rachel guessed the theatrics hid how badly Molly wished she could find a someone to love.
Rachel did not have that same desire. She had two boys to shower with adoration, and that was enough.
“Let’s roll,” Molly announced after she’d loaded the travel mugs into a cooler with wheels Rachel kept in the pantry.
Placing her bowl in the sink and rinsing it before loading it in the dishwasher, Rachel grabbed her park bag, and they headed out.
Chapter Eight
“If you have a belly button, you’re entitled to mistakes.” — Kat, Ontario, Canada
Rachel
“Oh my gosh, this is amazing,” April announced, holding up the stainless-steel travel mug as though they were holding royal court. “Did he sprinkle these with some kind of special margarita man-candy dust that only hot guys have access to?”
Sometimes she’d bring yoga mats,but they definitely didn’t do yoga. No, they’d all sit on them while they drank mimosas. It was way more fun.
“He’s not a hot guy.” Rachel sprawled out on the blanket they’d laid on the grass, turning her head to focus on the clouds in the blue Colorado sky above. Fine, he was a hot guy. But she was trying desperately not to fixate on the curl of his hair, the muscles in his arms, the way he filled out those cargo shorts…
“Uh.” April waved her hand in the air over Rachel’s face.
Rachel turned her head to her friend.
“He pretty much is,” April said slyly. “Don’t tell Kent I said that. Actually, you can. We’re secure in our relationship.”
