Page 39 of Failure to Match

Cleared her throat.

“Molly,” I said.

“Yes, dear?”

“Would you like to sit down?”

“Well, sure. If you insist.”

I bit back a smile as she plopped down on the couch and reached for a porcelain cup, blowing on it delicately.

“So.” I took a seat beside her. “How was dinner?”

“Oh, fine, fine,” she answered, her tone trying a bit too hard to remain nonchalant. “More lively than usual, I suppose, but that’s better than the alternative, isn’t it?”

I hummed as I picked up my own cup, cooling it before sipping. Chamomile with a touch of honey. Yum. “Do you all eat together often?”

“Every night. Unless one of us is indisposed. Jackson especially, what with all the business trips and client dinners…”

“And dates,” I supplied. Two nights a week for eight months added up.

She hesitated, looking away. “Well, we still set a place for him on those nights.”

My brows rose. “He eats two dinners?”

“No… not quite.” She suddenly seemed very interested in the subtle ribbons of steam curling out of her cup.

“You know,” I said, “any conversation you and I have over nighttime snacks doesn’t have to be on the record.”

That got her attention. “Really?”

“Really. Also, you should know, I’mgreatat keeping secrets. I mean, it’s partly because my memory is horrible, but still.”

She let out a warm chuckle, her shoulders relaxing. “Wait until you get to be my age. Some mornings I’ll be staring right at my feet, trying to recall if I’ve put on my shoes.”

I smiled into my cup. “Thank you for this, by the way. I’m a big fan of nighttime snacks.”

Ria had made it a thing for us. At least once a month, she’d sneak into my room with a bag full of goodies and a bottle of wine, and we’d go to town, chatting and gossiping about anything and everything.

I missed having her around so much that if I thought too hard about it, it made my throat thick.

Not that I wasn’t happy for her, because I was! It was just… we’d lived together forten years. Maybe that was why I hadn’t complained at first when my hours at Charmed increased. The apartment was very quiet after she left. It took some getting used to.

Molly sighed. “I do apologize for showing up unannounced. Truth be told, I’m not supposed to be here. The staff has been given very specific instructions by Young Master Sinclair. We’re not supposed to speak about him with you, you see. At all.”

She wouldn’t be the first member of his staff to break that rule. Bensen had done it yesterday when he’d defended Jackson. So, either they weren’t necessarily afraid of the consequences, or whatever they were trying to achieve via these conversations was important enough to be worth the risk.

I picked up a pistachio éclair and bit into it, waiting.

“Mabel doesn’t know I’m here either,” she went on. “She’d never agree with me betraying the Young Master’s trust in this way. She’d have my head if she knew, believe you me.”

“And what about Jackson? Wouldn’t he be angry if he found out?”

“Yes, I suppose he would. But it’s different, isn’t it?”

“How so?”

She twisted on the couch to face me full-on, her hands curled tightly around her cup. “You’ve misjudged him.”

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