His Cinderella Next Door Page 13

  He slid her a look. She didn’t appear to be getting ready to run. If anything, she snuggled into him more closely.

  “You’re right,” Molly said. “I feel like he’d be happy, as if all the pieces of the puzzle are finally in place. We couldn’t give him a better birthday gift than this. Living so fully.”

  “That’s what I think, too. That he’s dancing around Uranus, beside himself with joy.”

  “Oh,” she said happily. “We only went around the world today. Should we tackle the universe tomorrow?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  OSCAR FELT AS if he had been holding his breath without knowing it.

  But she was the one who had mentioned tomorrow. Molly would still be here tomorrow. He allowed himself to breathe. He recognized a fear in himself, left over from their past.

  He was afraid he would wake up, and without warning, she would be gone. Last time a mere kiss had driven her away. This time it had gone so much further than that.

  He realized he had to address the fear.

  “Why did you go?” he asked. And what he really meant was, Will you go again?

  “I felt as if I didn’t have any choice,” she said, suddenly somber. “My dad had died and the farm sold. I didn’t have a home anymore. I had no place to go.”

  He wanted to say, I would have looked after you. But they had both been fresh out of high school. What hope would he have had of looking after her? Still, it hurt him deeply that she had carried the double burdens—the loss of her father and suddenly being without a home—by herself.

  “Photography school was suddenly an option. It hadn’t been before. Even though I wanted it, I don’t think Dad and I could have scraped together the money. The scholarship I got solved the problem of not having a home, and it gave me one dream to cling to, while another was gone.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me?” he said hoarsely. “Why didn’t you talk to me about it?”

  “If I talked to you, I wouldn’t have been strong enough to go, Truck.” She hesitated for a long time.

  He got up on his elbow, and saw that tears were slithering down her cheeks. He touched one. “What?” he whispered.

  “You were the dream I gave up.”

  “The whole time I was growing up, you were solid. We moved. You stayed. We had adventures. You had routines. You were the one reliable thing. My touchstone.

  “I used to think it was your mother buying the farm that made me leave, but now I’m not so sure. I’m afraid of love, Truck. Terrified of it.

  “And you kissed me that night, but you, my touchstone, were already moving on. You were going to university in the fall. You had plans and ambitions, and I had few prospects. I didn’t want to hold you back.”

  Something in him went very, very still. It wasn’t that she had used the word love in the context of him, though he knew he would return to that later.

  “My mother bought your farm?”

  Her eyes went every wide. She swiped at a tear sliding down her face. “I thought you knew that,” she whispered.

  Oscar felt something he had rarely felt in his entire life. It was pure fury.

  His mother had forced Molly’s hand while she was still reeling from the death of her father. His mother had ripped Molly from his world. His mother had played on her insecurities about love.

  Even those words I didn’t want to hold you back sounded more like something his mother would say than Molly.

  He remembered, suddenly, the fury deepening, that his mother had walked in on the tail end of that kiss with Molly.

  And he remembered, now, that she had never once mentioned it to him.

  Come to think of it, hadn’t he been astonished by that? That his normally meddlesome mother had not commented on that kiss she had interrupted?

  At the time, he had thought she was being sensitive, to the circumstances, to Molly’s loss, to his need to comfort her.

  Now, he saw it more clearly. He had said to Molly, once before, that his mother was threatened by her. The thing was, he had not realized, until this very moment, just how threatened. His mother had never once mentioned to him that she had purchased that farm. He had gone to university shortly after, so he hadn’t really paid attention to what happened to the property next door to his childhood home.

  Molly sensed his fury. “Don’t be mad.”

  “I’m not mad at you.”

  “It’s understandable from a mother’s point of view,” she said. “She didn’t approve of me. I was the one who led you astray. Good grief, I got you arrested!”

  “We swam in the public pool in the middle of the night and got caught. That’s hardly a felony.”

  “You broke your arm because of me.”

  “It wasn’t because of you.”

  “Uh-huh. As if you would have ever decided to jump on the back of one of Knapp’s horses if I weren’t around.”

  “Please, don’t defend her,” he said wearily. “And don’t ever do this to yourself in my presence. Make it as if you were, or are somehow, less than the Clarks. You were more than all of us put together. Do you get that? Everything you have and achieved, you did with your own guts and gumption. That’s what terrified my mother. That you could be so much. So real. So bold. So generous. So strong. So free. And all of that came straight from inside of you. That’s real power, and she knew it.”

  His tone softened. “And I know it. I’ve always known it. I see you, Molly Bentwell, I see you completely. I always have, and I always will.”

  She was crying really hard now. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

  He took her in his arms and held her. And then, when her tears had stopped, he kissed her.

  And then she kissed him back.

  And then they were lost in that place where all pain was erased, and all the past, and only this moment, in all its glory, remained.

  A long time later, Molly slept, and Oscar got up, and went over to the window.

  Tomorrow would have been Ralphie’s birthday. That’s why she had come. Now, would she go? She hadn’t mentioned leaving. But she hadn’t mentioned staying, either.

  He was not a man accustomed to being uncertain. But he was aware of feeling uncertain about this. It wasn’t really about her departure date.

  It was about whether or not they were feeling the same thing.

  The truth tickled along his spine, and then seemed to explode, like Fourth of July fireworks inside his head.

  He loved her. He didn’t want to. Love involved losses and he was still reeling from Ralphie’s sudden death.

  Plus, Molly had already taught him about love and loss. But he had never known her reasons for leaving before. Knowing deepened what he was feeling. A quiet truth made itself known to him. It wasn’t as if he had fallen in love with Molly over the last few days. It was more like he had realized he had never fallen out of love with her.

  This, then, was the biggest risk of all. To love someone, even when that journey was fraught with unknown perils and unnamed dangers.

  But it felt as if before he took the greatest risk of all—declaring his love to Molly—he had something else he had to look after.

  With one more glance at the woman who slept in his bed—and filled his heart to overflowing—he left the room.

  He went out on the deck. He didn’t want Molly to overhear this call.

  But, to his frustration, he only got her voice mail. “This is Amanda Clark. You know the drill. After the beep.”

  “I need to talk to you, now.” He hung up the phone.

  Molly watched as Oscar listened carefully to the briefing at Zippity-Do-Da. It was like listening to the attendant go through the safety instructions before you took off on your flight. No one did it!

  They had decided to do this on Ralphie’s birthday. Tonight, they would go out for dinner. She had pur
chased the yellow dress for the occasion.

  This would be good to get his mind off things. He had been carrying an undercurrent of anger since she had told him about his mother.

  She looked at Oscar’s familiar features, his brow furrowed in concentration. Even with that underlying current of anger, she could not look at him without feeling that rush of warmth and delight.

  “Any questions?” their guide, Basil, asked.

  Oscar had scientific questions. About friction. Speed. Physics. Pull. Cable strength. Regularity of cable testing. Platform testing.

  She tugged at his arm. “I’m sure it’s safe, Oscar.”

  “For your benefit, I’m going to satisfy myself.”

  He was the one afraid of heights, and yet he was worried about her safety. So endearing.

  “Okay,” Basil said, when he had finally managed to answer all of Oscar’s questions, “if any of the following apply to you, you are not allowed to ride...”

  “Please, God,” Oscar murmured.

  “Under five feet tall—”

  “Damn.”

  “Heart problems—”

  “Double damn.”

  “Pregnancy.”

  “I am not getting out of this, am I?” Oscar made a comical face. Normally, she would have laughed, but this time...

  “Recent flu symptoms.”

  “How recent?”

  Again, normally she would have laughed.

  “Inertia. Inebriation.” Basil was obviously taking his cue from Oscar and being funny now, practically reading from a medical textbook. Of course, as long as it was delaying the moment of truth—clip onto cable—Oscar was going to play along.

  Typically, she might have prodded the whole process along. But suddenly nothing felt normal. Because Molly had stopped at one word.

  Pregnancy.

  Good grief. She was an adult woman. A responsible woman. A woman who could absolutely not afford a pregnancy at this point in her career.

  She had packed pills. She was 100 percent certain of that. She’d been supposed to start a new pack... What day? She didn’t always take the “reminder” pills, just kept track of when she was supposed to start again. The travel, the jet lag—let’s be honest, the drugging ecstasy of being with Oscar—might have made her careless.

  Had definitely made her careless. She had not taken a pill since she arrived here, of that she was certain.

  Was it really possible she had not taken a single precaution? Was it really possible that she had been so swept up in the moment that that had completely slipped her mind?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “HEY,” OSCAR CALLED to Molly. “Hey, Uranus to Earth. What’s up? You’re a million miles away. It’s important you pay attention.”

  It seemed to her both of them had not been paying the least bit of attention to what was important.

  He was the science guy. You’d think he could have asked that simple question about basic biology.

  But then she thought of the first time, their first night together.

  He had started to ask something.

  Are you—

  In the heat of the moment, she had assumed he was going to say are you sure? Or are you ready for this?

  But, thinking about it now, both those things had been obvious, hadn’t they?

  No, he’d been asking her, are you protected? And he’d taken her fevered response to him as a yes to that question.

  Still, there was no need to panic. What were the chances? Probably infinitesimal. There was no sense letting it spoil this incredible time they were having together. She’d missed a few days. No biggie. She’d take one as soon as she got back to the apartment. And every day thereafter.

  “Are you okay?” Oscar asked.

  He had come very close to her. He was looking at her with grave concern. No one in her entire life had ever been this sensitive to her, this in tune, this caring.

  “Just having a little case of nerves,” she said.

  He didn’t tease her. He didn’t say she was letting him down, and that he expected her to be the brave one. He didn’t ask her where her customary boldness was.

  He did what no one had ever done in her whole life. Except him.

  He accepted her exactly where she was at. That was a gift she had not even been able to give herself. Instead, she was always pushing. Always proving.

  He leaned in very close to her. He laid his forehead against hers. He, the guy who was terrified of heights, said quietly, for her ears only, “I got you.”

  She closed her eyes.

  Oscar.

  He’d have her back. He’d keep her safe, no matter what. It occurred to her that this man was the epitome of courage.

  There was no courage, really, in doing things you had absolutely no fear of.

  “I’ll go first,” he said. “I’ll test it and make sure it’s okay. And then you can follow me.”

  A few days ago, she would have protested that. She would have pushed her way to the front. She would have leaped first.

  But now, she relaxed into this new feeling of being taken care of. Protected. Kept safe.

  He turned to her just before he launched. He kissed her. Thoroughly. And then he turned and jumped.

  Not with fear. There was no tension whatsoever in him. That anger that had bristled around him thankfully, and finally, appeared to be gone. After a moment, his laughter rang out, joyous, bold, off the canyon walls.

  And then, at Basil’s signal, Molly launched, too. And it felt as if her life—soaring through the air with the exhilarating freedom of a bird—was an exact reflection of what was going on in her heart.

  Right there, right then, she knew the truth.

  It was a truth that had always been there.

  Like a huge Sitka spruce tree, shrouded in fog, always there, even when you couldn’t see it.

  And then the sun came out and burned the fog away and it stood there so majestic a person could feel foolish for having let the fog make the tree seem as if it had been an illusion.

  If anything in her had been holding back, it let go now.

  Her heart raced toward the man who stood on that platform in the trees, waiting to catch her.

  Oscar stood out on his deck, right at the balcony, not afraid of heights at all anymore. He was annoyed that his mother still had not gotten back to him. Had she heard the anger underlying his message?

  He had deeper concerns now, concerns that felt more pressing and more urgent.

  He and Molly had come back from zip-lining and she had modeled her new dress for him, the one she would wear out tonight for Ralphie’s birthday. He’d reserved a table at the most exclusive restaurant in Vancouver. It could take months to get a reservation, but he’d managed to pull a few strings.

  It occurred to him that they had ridden bikes, eaten at food trucks, zip-lined, played in the mud and eaten pizza. All things she was comfortable with.

  But they hadn’t done anything fancy yet, and he was eager to explore this world with her, too. Fine restaurants. Live theater. Concerts. Charity galas. Travels. Trips.

  Thoughts of the worlds they had yet to explore had then been erased from his mind, as by turns shy and confident, bold and bashful, Molly had modeled all of her other new purchases.

  Until one thing led to another, and no world seemed more important than the world of two that they were in.

  But then, ever so casually, just before she napped, Molly had mentioned she was going to need a bigger suitcase.

  Which meant, despite it all, she was still planning on leaving.

  Before Molly had arrived, it had felt to Oscar like he might never laugh again. And yet now the laughter came frequently and easily.

  They had always known each other.

  But now they knew each other deeply.

 
; He could finish her sentences. She could guess his thoughts. They were unraveling the beautiful mystery of giving each other pleasure.

  In that area, it felt as if they had just discovered the tip of the iceberg. It felt as if a lifetime would not be enough.

  They had skirted the issue of her departure, as if hiding from it could prevent it from coming.

  Now, she was talking about suitcases. He stared out at the Vancouver skyline, and it struck him like a bolt of lightning.

  It was so simple. She was asking him about suitcases because he had not invited her to stay.

  Invited her to stay?

  That felt all wrong. Disrespectful. Without honor. As much as he wanted to have her here, he realized this was not what he wanted.

  It was fun, yes. And exciting, definitely. Having Molly with him had turned his life into an unbelievable adventure in the seeming blink of an eye.

  And yet, somehow, it wasn’t sitting right with him. It had the tawdry feeling of an affair.

  Oscar realized he had to show her, despite all the fun, he wasn’t just playing around. He was playing for keeps.

  He wanted to marry her. And the sooner the better. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Thanks to his mother, they’d already lost six years.

  He could almost hear his brother’s voice—familiar, full of conviction—saying go for it.

  Oscar didn’t want to lose another minute.

  He glanced at his watch. The stores would still be open. He could dash down now, before she woke up, and get her a ring.

  He could propose to her tonight. After dinner. With her in the yellow dress.

  He had to keep himself from whooping with joy and letting that whole city know what was going on with him.

  Molly woke up and stretched, content. Oscar wasn’t beside her, and for a moment she felt abandoned. She loved waking up with him at her side.

  Still, Georgie had taken his place and having the cat in her lover’s bed with her gave her an exquisite feeling of domestic contentment.

  Molly realized in her whole life she might have never felt this: simple contentment. At ease with where she was. Whole in some way she had never been before. The restlessness seemed to have evaporated in her. The need to prove anything was gone. She lay there just feeling the delicious warmth of feeling accepted.