“I want my children to have all the things I couldn’t afford. Then I want to move in with them.” —Phyllis Diller
Molly
Good news, these events were pretty outstanding. She’d definitely buy a second thrift store designer dress just so she could attend another. She had that much fun.
The food? Oh, heavens, the food.
Like a culinary masterpiece exploded on her tongue.
Uh-huh, an exaggeration. Also, true.
Much to her surprise, she’d had a good time. Really. Not even a fake good time, but the genuine kind.
The not-guilty-in-the-slightest kind.
“I grabbed dessert while I was up.” Gavin slid an individual trifle of strawberry shortcake in front of her. They’d topped the layers of cream and cake and strawberry with a chocolate dipped strawberry that seemed to be covered in edible gold dust.
She stared at the dessert. Then glanced to Gavin’s. He’d also snagged a strawberry shortcake version for himself, not the richly decadent chocolate, olive oil cake. That cake had a golden, chocolate-dipped strawberry on top, too.
“Why not chocolate?” she asked.
“Because it’s not the one you’d have picked,” Gavin said, sipping at his after-dinner coffee.
He was right. It’s the one she would’ve asked for if he’d asked, but if it was her picking and she wasn’t on display, then she would’ve gone for the trifle.
But chocolate cake made a better impression.
So, she really needed to ask… “How do you know that?”
“Molly.” He draped his arm across the back of her chair. “You always say you want the chocolate. But when you get things yourself, you pick the other option, whatever that is. Like the cheesecake at Rachel’s wedding.” He paused, obviously second guessing himself. “Unless you want the chocolate. Do you want the chocolate? I can go back.”
She should get the chocolate just because it’s what made sense.
And yet? She was going to eat the hell out of this strawberry shortcake.
“This is perfect.” It really was.
The strawberry was one of the bigger, fancy kinds with an abundant stem that didn’t have a good way to eat it without getting sloppy.
If she were alone, she would nibble off the chocolate one teeny-tiny bite at a time, to best savor it. But chipmunk-style was definitely not appropriate for black tie.
So she went all in and put the berry in her mouth. Unfortunately, or really fortunately, the chocolate was made with top-of-the-line milk and the taste was divine. That’s the only reason she paused before biting and…sucked the chocolate off the berry. Not sloppy sucked. Just this-is-really-good sucked.
She should’ve just nibbled it off chipmunk-style. That would’ve been way less of a whole thing. But now she was committed, and at least it was divine. So she chomped down to finish it.
The rest of the table was still gabbing and not paying any attention to her, so at least no one witnessed her enjoyment factor of a solid ten out of ten.
Except… Well, damn. She turned her head and, yup, Gavin had paused the bite of his strawberry because apparently he’d watched her tongue her own and he probably made some assumptions about her ability to be a date at this type of function ever again.
Her cheeks got so hot. Not good hot, either. This was the cayenne cinnamon kind of hot, the kind that no one really wanted. Even if you didn’t need to see a doctor after that kind of burn.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her mouth still a little full. “I didn’t mean…” She held up the black napkin to her mouth. “I’m so embarrassed.”
Gavin hadn’t moved a millimeter, his strawberry still paused mid-air. He set it down on the dessert plate under the trifle bowl. Then he cleared his throat, subtle.
“You really can’t take me anywhere, can you?” Molly went for silly like she did when she was on camera and had something she didn’t mean to happen derail her a little.
Gavin’s eyebrows drew together. He lifted his thumb to the side of her mouth and wiped at something there. Oh, God, it was probably chocolate.
