Page 60 of The Last Autograph
He nodded.
“Well…” Molly slipped the robe off her shoulder and exposed the underside of one breast. “I had a reduction, three years ago now, but the scars are still visible. I wanted to explain before you noticed because, in a world where implants seem to be the norm, some people just don’t get it.”
“Thank you for trusting me enough to share. And I do get it, so there’s no judgment from me.”
“To tell you the truth, it was more of an adjustment than I anticipated, and I’m still coming to terms with it emotionally.”
Jake nodded slowly. “And are you happy with your decision?”
“Definitely. I used to get teased a lot—even by guys who were old enough to know better.” Molly paused. “It’s a bit of a buzzkill, I know, but…”
“It’s not a buzzkill at all.” Jake slipped his hands around her waist. “Now, come back to bed and tell me your plans for the day.”
24
Other than an occasional text exchange, several days passed with little contact between them. Jake blamed his workload, but the truth was he needed some time to process.
After Molly left that morning, he hadn’t stopped thinking about her, and those thoughts followed him around all week as he questioned his right to involve himself with his twin’s ex. Because whichever way he looked at it, he knew his family wouldn’t approve, and for Jake, that approval mattered.
Weeks earlier, he’d promised his father, also a past pupil of Clifton Falls High, that he’d attend a fundraising event for his old school, but as he finished work that Friday afternoon, Jake kicked himself for agreeing to it.
The event was a black-tie art auction. Jake hadn’t worn a suit since Jesse’s funeral, and as he attempted to knot his tie for the second time, sweat trickled down his back despite the coolness of the room. He sat on the edge of his bed and put his head between his knees for a moment, then went downstairs and made himself a slice of toast.
His father was late, no surprises there, but at least it gave Jake time to settle his nerves. More interested in home economics and art history than sport at the rugby-mad school—and often bullied because of it—Jake left just before his seventeenth birthday, swearing to never set foot on that campus again. And yet, with maturity came the knowledge that he couldn’t change the past, so he picked up his keys, locked the front door, and waited outside for his ride.
When they walked into the school hall, the place was packed. A large contingent of the thirtysomething crowd, all dressed to impress like they’d just walked the red carpet at the Grammys, sashayed about—champagne in hand and smiles firmly set—and despite his suit and tie, Jake felt hopelessly out of place. Still, it was rare for him to spend one-on-one time with his dad, and after a glass of wine, Jake relaxed as Henry introduced him to so many people that recalling their names would have been impossible.
Apart from a couple of his regular customers, Kristy Shapiro, and a guy from his year, Jake recognized no one. And while his father talked shop with a few of his golfing buddies, Jake strolled from one imaginative piece of art to the next, impressed not only by the quality of the works but also by the amounts tendered.
Tired and edgy, he was about to find his dad and tell him he’d grab an Uber home when he caught a glimpse of Molly through the crowd. In the same stunning black dress she wore to the bake-off after-party and surrounded by several people, including her boss, she gesticulated with her hands and laughed at the conversation around her.
She glanced his way, and as he smiled in recognition, a subtle longing surfaced. He watched her touch Winston on the arm as she leaned in to speak, then she turned and headed in his direction.
Jake rested his hands on her shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks. He longed to slip an arm around her waist and pull her closer, but the words “respectful” and “private”surfaced in his mind.
Her rules.
Molly tugged at the neckline of her dress, a light shimmer kissing the skin of her cleavage. “I knew if I wore this old thing again, I’d see people I knew from the wine and food festival.”
“It’s a stunning dress, so it deserves another outing. I’ve seen it in my dreams, many times, but my imagination doesn’t do it justice.”
“What?” she whispered.
“Just saying.”
“I didn’t realize you could be such a charmer.” Molly glanced around the hall, her face flushed beautifully and smile wide. “Amazing turnout. You went to school here, didn’t you?”
A few nights ago, he’d been deep inside her as she begged for more and whispered his name repeatedly. Now she seemed so carefree—unaffected—as if they shared merely a friendship. “Jesse and I both did. So did Dad. He dragged me along tonight, but I think I’ve about done my dash.”
She nodded. “I’m here with work, so I have to grin and bear it for a while yet.”
Jake glanced over her shoulder. “Speaking of my father, he’s heading this way.”
“Okay, I’ll make myself scarce. I should be networking anyway.”
Jake grabbed her hand. “Stay. I’m sure he’d love to meet you.”
Henry joined them a moment later. “There you are, Jake. I wondered where you’d got to.” He turned to Molly with a warm smile. “And who’s this young lady?”
