“Your nose is broken, Alfie. That’s not fine. The doc is on his way,” Dad says, his tone nonnegotiable.
We haven’t spoken about what happened, who was responsible, or if there are any left out on the streets I need to hunt down. As soon as we got back to my house, I took Molly upstairs to my bedroom. I sat on the bed with her for thirty minutes, holding her in my arms as she cried.
Then I decided I needed to do something, which is why I ran a bath, and now I’m making her tea.
The kettle switches off, letting me know the water is boiled. I turn back around, pour some into the mug, and add a little cold water from the fridge to make sure the tea doesn’t burn her mouth.
“I’ll send the doc up when he gets here,” Dad continues.
“Thanks.” I pause. “You know, I think I get it now.”
“Get what?” he asks.
I look across at my mom. “Why you guys got married after only knowing each other for two days.”
“Alfie, do not go doing anything stupid with this woman. Let’s not forget why she’s in our city.”
“She’s buying buildings, Dad, not trying to steal our business.” I frown at him.
“Don’t listen to him, Alfie. Trust your gut,” Mom says with a huge smile on her face.
“Trust his gut, Charlotte? We have one kid married off. We don’t need to lose another,” Dad grunts.
I walk out, leaving my parents to their ridiculous argument, and head back upstairs. Molly is still sitting in the bath with her knees up out of the water.
“Here.” I hand her the mug as I inspect the scrapes on her knees. “How much do those hurt?”
“Not much. The water just stung a bit.”
“What do you need me to do, Molly?” I sit on the edge of the tub.
“Do you hate me?” she asks, instead of answering.
“Why the fuck would I hate you?”
She shrugs. “Because they tried to use me to get to you.”
“Pretty sure you’re the one who should be hating me right now,” I tell her.
“I hate myself…”
“Well, that doesn’t work for me. I happen to really like you and I won’t have anyone hating you.” I smirk.
“You can’t stop me from hating myself, Alfie.”
“I can and I will,” I vow as I pull out my phone. I open my emails and start typing out a note to my legal team. “I need your lawyer’s name.” I look up at Molly.
“Why?”
“I’m having some documents sent to him for you to sign,” I explain.
“What documents? You want me to sign an NDA or something about what I saw? I don’t need my lawyers for that, Alfie. I’m not going to tell anyone.”
“Good to know, but no. I’m having prenup paperwork sent over.”
Molly coughs and splatters out the tea she just sipped. “You what?”
“A prenuptial agreement. It’s what two people sign before they get married.”
