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Tears clouded her eyes and she blinked, trying to chase them away.
When she reached to put her mug in the dishwasher, Scott caught her around the waist and pulled her toward him.
“Hey, it’s going to be great,” he said, kissing her neck. “That’s what you always tell me.”
“I know.”
“It’ll be good for me to get out of the way,” he added. “You two need to create your own relationship, right? And you’ll be better at helping her make friends here than me, anyway.”
Molly agreed with him on that count. Before Scott had settled in Durango four years ago, he’d lived a strange sort of nomadic life, traveling across the country working odd jobs, he and little Ella living out of his old VW Westfalia, now parked in the driveway out back. Molly figured this was a result of growing up an only child, then losing his parents in college and his first wife at the age of twenty four. He was making progress.
“Is there anything I can help you with as I finish unpacking?” she asked as he prepared to leave.
“I’ll get to it,” Scott said. Like he’d been saying for the past week.
Molly was getting a teensy bit impatient with him, since his unpacked boxes were scattered through their bedroom and her office. She wanted the house looking fully lived-in for the party tomorrow.
“I can go through some of your boxes for you,” she said. “Organize—”
“I said I’ll get to it, Molly.” His voice turned hard, and her skin prickled.
“Okay,” she said, stunned. “I’m just trying to help.”
He turned to face her, arms folded, jaw tight. An expression she had gotten to know well over the first few months of their relationship. She hadn’t seen it for a while, though.
“I know.” His voice softened. “I’ll get to them when I get back. All right?”
“Sure.” Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. She was being a nag, just a few weeks into their marriage. Never mind her good intentions; this was the sort of thing that could grow and fester and eventually ruin a relationship. She tried to smile, to mentally transmit to him that she wasn’t that kind of wife. To convince herself that this marriage would last.
Scott took three giant steps toward her, wrapping his arms around her. She relaxed and let his lips wander over her face and neck. Let her hands do a little wandering, too—enough to cause a small, gratifying groan from his throat.
“I need to go,” he said, but didn’t pull away.
“So go.”
“I can’t seem to.” He kissed her again, ran his palms down her ribs. “I’ll be back Sunday.”
“I’ll be counting the hours. Be careful.”
He pulled away and winked at her. “I’m always careful.”
And then Molly was alone in the kitchen, facing an empty weekend.
An hour later, Molly parked her car on Main Avenue. She smiled at the tourists walking down the sidewalks and thought, I am not a tourist anymore. She was now a Durango local. She belonged in this blue-sky college town and year-round recreation destination. This was where she would put down roots, make a home, and build a life.
“I can’t wait to see my awesome cupcakes!” Chloe was saying to Ella in the backseat. Shouting, really. “They’re gonna be unicorns with tiny little golden corns. Mommy said so.”
“Horns,” Ella corrected gently. “Unicorns have horns, not corns.”
“That makes no sense,” Chloe said.
Molly smothered a grin. “You two stay here, okay? I’ll get the cupcakes and be back in two minutes.”
As she headed down the street to the bakery, Molly made her daily check-in call to her new assistant.
“Are you seriously calling me with your actual voice?” Brookelle asked after she picked up. “I haven’t done this in, like, five years.”
Brookelle—whip-smart, scarily sarcastic, and eight years younger than Molly—hated talking on the phone, saying it was for grandmas and poor people, like bar soap. For the most part they communicated via text, but Molly didn’t have time for that as she hustled down the sidewalk to the bakery.
