Molly shook her head. “I just wanted to say hi. We’ve got to get home.”
Evelyn made atsksound. “Nonsense, come in and have a cup of tea.”
“I don’t want to intrude.” Molly brushed away a stray curl as the wind blew across her face.
“Gavin won’t be home for a bit yet.” Evelyn leaned in like she was ready to share a state secret. “He’s on a date.”
Oh, well. That was nice. Good for him.
Molly ignored the feeling like she was a balloon with the air being let out because that was an absolutely ridiculous way to feel about not seeing someone she was only mildly tolerating at this point. It’s not like she’d actually stopped to get him a fruit bouquet, anyway.
“That sounds fun,” she said, keeping her tone light and perky and oh-so very fun.
She’d bet that he didn’t set the woman up with someone else while they were out. That probably wasn’t something he did. Just something she did.
“So you’ll stay.” This was not a question from Evelyn; it was a statement. The kind of statement that did not allow for debate.
“Sure,” Molly said, following her inside.
Ollie and his friends took off to the backyard, two golden retrievers following in hot pursuit.
Even though she’d been invited in, a feeling along her spine that she shouldn’t be there tickled.
She’d never been past the front foyer of Gavin’s house. This was by choice. Picking the kids up and dropping them off never necessitated diving further into the home of her best friend’s ex.
Also, he’d never asked her in.
Probably because she’d always been bristly around him.
Truly, she was working to soften those bristles, considering recent information and heroics.
“What are you up to tonight?” Evelyn asked, moving deeper into the house to a lush gourmet kitchen. A huge white marble countertop island stood in the middle of the giant room with an oversized commercial refrigerator, three sinks, and two ovens. The stove even had its own sink—the kind used to fill up pots right on the stovetop.
The set-up made Molly’s mouth water. She loved to cook. Unfortunately, her little kitchen didn’t allow for her to let her colors fly. Of course, she cooked there, but not with the extravagance she wished she could. Like, say, filling a pot straight on the stove. Think. Of. All. The. Pasta.
Her gaze caught the portrait on top of the refrigerator—a portrait of a zebra in a red bathtub. She held back her gag.
His ex-fiancée painted that. She was well-known in the animals-in-bathtubs art world.
Uh-huh. That was a thing.
A ridiculous thing. Yet…
“Tell me what’s going on in the world of Molly,” Evelyn said, pouring a cup of tea and sliding it across the countertop.
“Not a lot.” Molly lifted the cup to her lips. “Work. Kid. Rinse. Repeat.”
“You’re happy with this?” The look Evelyn lanced her with pierced straight to her core.
Molly gave what she hoped was a sly smile. “Of course.”
Evelyn made a sound in the back of her throat that did not sound like she agreed this was anything to be thrilled with.
“Why don’t you think that’s a good thing?” Molly asked. “Routine is good.”
Evelyn squirted a dollop of honey into her cup and stirred. “Routine is good. Mundane is not.”
She had a point there. Molly sighed. “Can I tell you a secret?”
