“Something like that.” Rachel poured a dollop of milk into her coffee.
“Who…” Molly placed both palms on the counter, totally serious. “Is he?”
“Pretty sure he’s like the Tooth fairy, and he’d prefer to stay anonymous.” Rachel shrugged.
Molly pursed her lips like she did when she was thinking too hard. “Was it Dane? I bet it was Dane.”
Rachel poured cereal into a bowl. “It wasn’t Dane.”
“Gavin?” Molly didn’t seem certain about this guess, but she tossed it out anyway. “Did Dakota keep the boys so your ex-husband could bring you drinks because they realized they take advantage of your awesomeness and therefore don’t deserve your goodness?”
Rachel sipped her coffee. Fine, she chugged her coffee. “Travis.”
She wasn’t good at keeping secrets. Why would she in this case, anyway? Molly needed to help her dissect why he’d returned after everyone had left. Why he’d come bearing gifts. Why he’d cleaned up the rest of the kitchen when Rachel fell asleep. And why he’d covered her with a blanket before he left. Why? All the whys?
“Travis?” Molly stared. “Is this a joke?”
Rachel gave her head a slight shake and said, “Have I ever joked about Travis?”
Molly’s mouth fell comically open, then she used the back of her hand to push it closed. This was Molly and her flare for dramatics and propensity toward slapstick—both of which made her YouTube channel so popular.
“Stop, it’s not a big deal.” Rachel spoke with certainty. “He felt bad because I’d had a rough week.”
Molly lifted the cocktail from where Rachel had set it beside the sink. She examined it.
“That’s from last night. I wouldn’t—” Molly took a slug of the cocktail.
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.
