“Mummy.” Molly tugs on my hand.
“Yes, baby girl, come on.” I grab her bags and walk back into Olly’s. He’s standing just in the hallway and takes the bags from me. My heart turns to goo when I see him holding her tiny flamingo backpack, and I can’t help but stifle my giggle.
“Who that?” Molly asks, wiggling to get down.
“Molly-Mae, this is Oliver. Oliver, Molly,” I say.
She walks over and stares up at him, putting her arms out. He doesn’t miss a beat. He scoops her up and pops her on his hip. “Hi, Molly, nice to meet you,” he says and taps the tip of her nose.
She wiggles, wanting to get down, and when he obliges, she runs into his living room.
“Molly, what are you doing?”
“Looking for the puppy,” she replies.
She’s obsessed with dogs. Even if we had a garden, I couldn’t afford to get her a dog at the moment. I couldn’t afford one even if I wanted to.
“Oh, sweetie, Olly doesn’t have a puppy,” I say, following behind her. She stops and peers up at me with her big, soft eyes, and I want to slap myself for disappointing her.
“Well,” Olly replies from behind me. “I don’t have a puppy, but I do have a dog, and he’s almost two.”
“What?” I ask, confused, looking around.
It doesn’t even smell like he has pets, and now I sound like a stuck-up bitch, like pet owner’s homes smell or something.
“Yeah, he’s with the dog walker—should be back any time.”
I swear it’s like he’s a white witch or some shit. There’s a knock followed by a rattle of keys, and then a commotion of padded paws and feet in the hallway.
“Olly?” A female voice calls out as she rounds the doorway.
“Hey, Judy,” he says.
A dog runs circles around him, wagging its tail like a maniac, and then it spots us and rushes to Molly. I tense, but as soon as he gets in front of her, he rolls over on his back, tongue hanging out. She crouches down and tickles his belly.
“Sorry, I didn’t realise you had company,” she says, and I remember the woman and turn around. Wow, she’s stunning for someone only wearing a pair of hunters over leggings and a loose, baggy jumper, her perfectly straight hair under a beanie. My stomach drops, my back bristles, but I don’t know why.
“This is Rachel and her little girl, Molly.”
“Judy,” she says, reaching out her hand. A gorgeous engagement ring sparkles as I shake her hand in mine. And it instantly distinguishes the unwanted weight which nestled in my gut the moment I saw her.
“And this, here, is Buster,” Olly says, joining Molly on the floor. I take a good look at the dog, at his gangly limbs, but what stands out is the scar on the right side of his face and a missing eye—poor dog.
“He’s a rescue. I fostered him for the shelter, but he kind of stuck and I’ve had him ever since,” he says with a shrug.
“I’ve got to run. Be by again tomorrow,” Judy says, waving to us all.
“Come on, boy, let’s get your dinner.” Buster is gone in an instant and sitting in the kitchen as we trail behind him.
It’s then I notice the cubby area under the sink with a huge fluffy bed and toys sticking out that I didn’t see before.
“Want to help me, Molly?” Olly asks, and she drops her toy and rushes to his side.
What am I even watching? She’s never taken to anyone as easily, and how did she know he had a dog in the first place?
Chapter Sixteen
RACHEL
