Page 53 of Pity Present
I barely resist the temptation to tell her what’s going on in my head. “I have an interesting story for you.”
I don’t elaborate quickly enough because she drops her fork and commands, “Go on.”
“My mom and dad used to be best friends.”
“You mean they aren’t anymore?”
“I mean,” I tell her, “my mom dated my dad’s roommate in college. They were together for a full year until one day Mom realized she didn’t like talking to her boyfriend nearly as much as she enjoyed talking to my dad.”
“Oh?”
Nodding my head, I tell her, “Yup. Mom told Jake that she wanted the two of them to go away for a weekend so they could really get to know each other.”
Molly is intrigued. “What happened?”
“They went to the Wisconsin Dells and spent two days and two nights.”
“And?”
“When they returned, they were no longer a couple.”
“Wow, okay. Why are you telling me this?”
I open one of the cloth napkins and situate it on my lap, before saying, “I’m telling you this so that you understand how seriously I take friendship.”
Molly blushes charmingly. “Are you saying that you’re always friends with someone before you date them?”
“Not always, no.” Her eyes begin to water, and she blinks rapidly to keep excess moisture from leaking out. She’s breaking my heart. “I’m saying that friendship is very important to me.Friendship can always lead to something more, and if it does then that something more would be very special. Don’t you think?”
She opens her mouth like she’s going to answer, but then she simultaneously picks up her fork and knocks the glass of orange juice over. Molly jumps up and lets out a shout as the cold liquid rolls down the table onto her legs.
In the past, I would have never thought this to be the case, but it turns out my perfect woman might just be a world class klutz.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MOLLY
Of course, I just spilled my orange juice all over myself. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I act like a normal person in front of Blake? Running into his bathroom, I use a clean towel to wipe myself up before grabbing another one to soak up the wetness from the carpet.
Hurrying back into the room, I tell him, “I’m so sorry. I know you’re not going to believe this, but I’ve never been this clumsy.”
The smirk on his face indicates that he doesn’t believe me. And why should he? Not only do I trip nearly every time I seen him, but I jabber on like a lunatic. It all started when I told him I wasn’t a lumberjack, and then escalated from there like I’ve been trying to outdo myself at every turn.
While I clean up my mess, Blake removes my french toast plate. It’s swimming in orange juice as well. He replaces it with his omelet. “You can have my eggs.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I ask. “I stormed in here like some jealous girlfriend, and then I ruined your breakfast. You shouldn’t even be talking to me.”
“I’m nice to you because I like you, Molly.”
“Because we’re friends?” I say this as though I mean the exact opposite—mortal enemies.
“Aren’t we friends?” Chills erupt at the base of my neck and shoot across the expanse of my head.
“I guess.” But I didn’t agree to come to these singles gatherings because I was looking for another friend. I came because Blake caught my eye in a big way, and I was hoping he might be open to something more.
Although, the story about his parents was kind of interesting. Maybe Blake wants to start out his next relationship as friends. Maybe he thinks that way it might lead to something permanent.
His phone rings which causes him to jump up and run across the room. Blake looks at the screen before saying, “I need to take this.” Then he literally sprints toward the bathroom.
