Dr. Stewart regarded her silently, a knowing smile teasing her lips.
“What?” Molly snapped.
“Once again, as with your father, you should never underestimate the power of men’s feelings of inadequacy.”
Molly let out a harsh laugh, imagining Brady’s tall, muscled body, to die for face, and well-earned swagger. “Yeah, no. Trust me when I say there is nothing inadequate about Brady.”
“You have very particular ideals about what you’re looking for a in a mate,” the doctor responded.
Before Molly could ask what that had to do with anything, the doctor looked at her watch. “I’m afraid our time is up for today.”
Molly left the session feeling a thousand times more confused than when it started. Did Dr. Stewart think she should give Brady another chance?
Of all people Molly would have thought her therapist would have commended her for ending things. After all, what right-minded person jumps into a serious relationship only weeks after ending one that lasted over a decade?
She was finally using her common sense, Molly reassured herself, ending things as soon as she realized there was a problem rather than getting into yet another situation where she spent years trying to make a doomed relationship into something it was never going to be.
She went to the restaurant to help prepare for lunch service. “He’s not here,” Ellie said when Molly cautiously entered the kitchen. Molly let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
“He’s taking Jordan back to Idaho until he can get the custody situation straightened out.”
“That’s good,” Molly said. “He and I could probably use a little space from each other.”
“So, you and Brady,” Ellie said carefully.
“Not going to work out,” The words sounded strangled as she forced them past the lump in her throat. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” Molly said when her mother opened her mouth to start in on her. She was grateful when, for once, her mother didn’t push it.
Molly knew it was for the best that Brady would be gone awhile—God knew she didn’t know how she was going to deal working with him after everything that had happened—but the idea of
not
seeing him suddenly seemed infinitely worse.
As she helped her mother and Ellie prep, her mind kept sticking on what her therapist said.
You have very particular ideals in what you’re looking for in a mate.
As if that was a bad thing?
“Watch those onions!” Ellie called, snapping her out of her reverie. Molly swore when she realized that the onions she’d been sautéing for the steak sandwich had moved well past the caramelized stage and onto the charred to a crisp stage.
She grabbed the pan off of the stove and dumped it in the sink, coughing and waving her hand at the cloud of acrid steam that billowed up.
“Let me do it,” Adele said as Molly reached for another onion to start slicing. “Why don’t you go straighten up out front, where you’re not likely to set anything on fire?”
Molly dutifully went out into the dining room and did the rounds to make sure all the table settings were in place and salt and pepper shakers were full.
She heard the front door open and turned. “Hi, we don’t start serving for another forty five minutes,” she called to the man who was standing by the hostess station.
She didn’t know his name, but like most people in Big Timber, she recognized him from around town.
“Oh, I’m not here to eat,” he said, smiling as he doffed his ball cap. “I’m here to drop these off for Brady McManus,” he said, gesturing to the binder in his hand. “Is he here?”
Molly shook her head. “He’s out today.”
“I’ll just run these out to his place then,” he said and started to turn.
Not knowing what possessed her, Molly called him back. “You can leave them with me. I’ll make sure he gets them.”
His grin widened. “That would be a big help. I have a packed afternoon and it would save me a lot of time.”
Molly took the binder, telling herself she’d call Damon to run it over later. The binder had a coversheet slipped into the front which read,
McManus House Project 2014
. "Are these the plans for the house?”
“Just conceptual drawings to start. Now that he’s putting it on the market, I thought he’d want to give a copy to his listing agent to help sell it.”
Every cell in her body stopped short. “He’s selling his place?”
He nodded. “Called me this morning to let me know he wouldn’t be going through with the building project. A shame to sell the place. It’s such a beautiful spot.”
“It sure is,” Molly barely choked out, unable to hear herself over the roaring in her ears. He was selling his place. Which meant he wasn’t just leaving for a little while this time. He was going for good.
Unable to resist the pull of curiosity, she flipped open the cover with numb fingers.
On the first page was a beautiful, full color pencil drawing of a custom log house with a wraparound porch with a rolling green lawn in front surrounded by the artist’s rendition of a white picket fence.
Her heart seized in her chest, then started a mad pounding as she turned the next page, which showed a drawing of the back of the house.
Then the next, which showed a mockup of the first floor, featuring a huge kitchen that opened up into a sprawling family room. And off the living room was another room labeled
office/playroom.
Playroom. For kids.
Tears burning at the back of her eyes, she flipped to the next page which showed the layout of the second floor. There was a gallery, off of which were two small bedrooms and a large master at the end.
Featuring an ensuite bathroom, the master suite also had an inset alcove. In that space was a note that read
Nursery can later be converted to sitting/TV room.
Tears flowed down her cheeks and dripped unchecked on the plastic sheathed drawings as she turned the page to find plans for a finished basement with an extra bedroom. The perfect private space for a teenage boy.
In this binder were Brady’s dreams for a big family house. For the family he wanted to have.
With her?
The thought filled her with such hope and such panic it made her lightheaded.
Slumping into a chair, she went back through the binder, fingers tracing the lines of the picket fence, the word
nursery.
Doesn’t this prove that he wants exactly the same things you do? How can you say you don’t know him? At least in all the ways that count?
She tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle the hopeful whisper, trying to remind herself that just because he had plans for a house and a family didn’t mean those plans included her.
Nevertheless, her brain crowded with memories of the last few weeks. Of Brady, kissing her, touching her, giving her more pleasure than she would have thought humanly possible. Looking at her like she was the most beautiful woman on the planet, and saying it in a way that made her believe it too.
Of him holding her on her couch while she cried over her dad.
Of him talking about being with her years from now, like it was a given.
But how could she trust him, after all the secrets he’d been keeping?
Never underestimate the power of men’s feelings of inadequacy.
You have very particular ideals about what you’re looking for a in a mate.
It hit her like a punch in the gut, what her therapist had been talking about. So obvious she felt like an idiot for not seeing it, when Brady had already all but spelled it out for her.
Brady knew what she wanted. But he was afraid that if she knew where he came from—so different from the loving, stable, white picket fence family that she craved—she would never give him the chance to give it to her.
And yesterday, in his mind, she’d proven him right.
Scooping the binder off the table, she rushed into the kitchen. “I have to go,” she blurted out, and took off before anyone could ask where.
She broke several traffic laws speeding out to Brady’s. Her heart sank to her toes when she didn’t see his truck parked out front.
Oh, God, was he already gone? She parked and walked up to the front door just to make sure, resolving to drive all the way to Idaho to find him if need be.
###
Brady cursed when he got the text from Stan, saying he’d left the house drawings at the restaurant with “that cute little blond.”
Because, yeah, that’s exactly what he needed right now was to have to come face to face with that cute little blond who, less than twenty four hours ago, had ripped out his heart and stomped it into mush.
Your own fucking fault, dumbass. How many times will it take you to learn?
There was a knock on his door. When he opened it, he swore again to see Molly standing there, as though he’d summoned her.
Who would have ever thought the sight of five foot four inches of curvy blond would ever fill him with such dread?
“Oh, hi,” she said, sounding a little surprised. “I wasn’t sure you were here. I didn’t see your truck.”
“Jordan has it. He’s over at Cindy’s. Saying goodbye.”
Hurt all you want,
he told himself, feeling like his heart had cracked open all over again at the sight of her.
Only sin is in letting anyone see it.
“What do you want?” he said in as harsh a tone as he could muster.
“I came to bring you this,” she said, holding out the thick binder. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy, and he took a savage delight in knowing he wasn’t the only one suffering in this.
Bile pooled in his throat. As he took the binder, the hard plastic seemed to sear his hand, making him burn with humiliation at all the foolish, impossible dreams the damn thing represented.
“Thanks,” he said and started to close the door, but she scooted into the entryway before he could shut her out.
His stomach churned as she put down her purse and slid off her jacket as though she planned to stay.
“I’ve got a lot to do before I go— ”
“I looked through it,” she said as though he hadn’t spoken. “The house looks incredible.”
Yeah, an incredible delusion.
The only response he could muster was a grunt as he tossed the binder onto the kitchen counter.
“Too bad you’re not going to build it,” she said. “It would be an amazing place for a family.”
Yeah, another family. Not his.
He walked past her without a word and picked up where he’d left off unloading the dishwasher before he’d been interrupted by her knock.
“Is it true that you’re selling this place?” she finally asked after several moments of silence.
“Don’t see much point in keeping it if I’m not coming back. You interested?”
“Not unless you’re included.”
The plate he was holding went clattering to the floor as he whipped around. “What?”
“I’m interested in living here, but only if it’s with you.” Her fingers were twisting and untwisting in front of her, her mouth trembled a little, but the blue gaze that met his was unwavering.
His heart pounded in his chest, blood roaring in his head as he shook it, convinced he hadn’t heard her right. “What are you saying?”
“You put a nursery in the master bedroom,” she said shakily.
He felt like he had whiplash from the sudden change in direction the conversation had taken.
“And a picket fence in the front.” She choked on a little sob. Brady couldn’t stop himself from moving closer.
“You had me in mind when you had him do the drawings. Us. Didn’t you?”
A voice screamed in his head to deny it. He’d already let himself be crushed. The least he could do was try to hang onto whatever shreds of dignity he might have left. “Of course.” The words slipped out before he could call them back.
###
Molly’s breath left her lungs in a rush as she hurled herself full force against him, glad he caught her because the sense of relief was so profound it turned her legs into wet dishrags.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed against his chest as the tears she’d held at bay during the drive over and in those first, tense minutes, when every cell in his body had vibrated with the message for her to get away, came out in one giant rush.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, when she could finally catch her breath. “After what happened yesterday, I panicked. It had nothing to do with your family. It was you wanting to keep everything so secret that made me panic.”
She took a deep breath, trying to hold back the sob building in her throat. “I told myself if you wouldn't let me know you, there was no way I could trust you. And I can’t be with someone I don’t trust. I needed to get out before I made another huge mistake.”
She felt him stiffen and start to pull away, and she wrapped her arms tighter. “But then I realized how stupid I was being. The only mistake I was making was letting you go.”
“Yeah? What changed your mind?” He looked down at her warily, as though still unwilling to trust this was really happening.
“Since I met you, you always came off as a player, a guy who would never settle down. I couldn’t believe you would ever be satisfied tied to one woman for the rest of your life. I knew better than to have any expectations that this could go anywhere.” She swallowed hard. “But then I found myself falling in love with you anyway, and it scared me. It scared me that I knew so little about you and your life before. It scared me that if you wouldn’t tell me, that maybe there were other things you weren’t telling me.”
“Like what?” he asked hoarsely, reaching his hand up to gently brush her hair away from her face.
“Like, no matter what you said about wanting us to be more serious, you would never want the same things from me that I wanted from you, the kind of life I couldn’t help but imagine with you. And maybe you’d try it out for a while, but you would never be happy. And eventually you would leave me too.”
His arms tightened around her. “How could I ever leave you when I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for you?”
She squeezed her eyes shut but couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. “I know that now. I knew it as soon as I saw that.” She pointed at the binder. “And that’s really all I need to know about you. All of this time, all these years as you tried to get away from your crazy family, you’ve been wanting the exact same things I do.”