Page 6 of Protecting What Is Mine

3

Mollie

“I don’t know. Wouldn’t that make me seem like a crazy person? Like I’m stalking him or something?”

Sam smirks. “Maybe you have to be a little crazy now and then if you ever wanna be happy. Otherwise, wouldn’t life just become the same, monotonous, rinse-and-repeat? Day in and day out.” She throws her arms up in exaggerated despair. “Oh God, it’s almost too depressing to think about.” She nudges my elbow with hers. “Come on Mol, you know I’m right.”

The thing is, I don’t know that she’s right. If I was forced to make a snap decision this very second, I’d say she was the crazy person. Crazy for even suggesting such a…a…crazy idea. Hank and I haven’t gone out yet. Like, ever. And here she is trying to convince me to show up at the hospital, where his brother is hanging on for dear life. Unannounced and uninvited. Cr—aaa—zy.

Undeterred by my silence, Sam skips the next several levels of manipulation and goes straight to the nuclear option, calling in reinforcements. “Vanessa dear, would you come here for a second?”

Not cool, chick. Not cool.

Her small voice calls back from the bedroom. “Coming, Mommy.” A few moments later, Vanessa comes into view, happily skipping down the hallway with her ponytail bouncing behind as she goes. “Yes, Mommy?”

I glare at Sam to make clear my disapproval of such dirty tactics, but she pretends not to notice and continues unabated. “Honey, we both love Aunt Mollie more than just about anything, don’t we?”

Vanessa looks at me with her big blue eyes and nods.

“And because we love her so much we want her to be happy, right?”

The girl smiles and nods again.

“And if seeing that nice man who had to cancel their date last week is the thing that would make her happy, then there shouldn’t be any harm if she goes to visit him, should there?”

“Nope.” Vanessa smiles again. “Aunt Mollie, does he not want to see you? Because I don’t think he is a very nice man if he doesn’t want to see you.”

“Oh, my precious angel.” I pull her into my lap, wrap her in a hug, and glare at Samantha over her shoulder. “I guess I don’t really know. See…his brother had an accident. That’s why we weren’t able to go out on the Fourth of July.”

Vanessa pulls out of the hug just enough to look me the in eye. “Is his brother okay?”

I smile, touched by her thoughtfulness. “Well, that’s the thing. He was hurt pretty bad and he’s still in the hospital. And my friend—his name is Hank—he’s been staying there to keep an eye on him ever since. So, I don’t really think it would be appropriate for me to interrupt that right now.”

While Vanessa contemplates my words, Sam interjects. “Well, I think after a week of sleeping in a chair he might really appreciate an interruption as wonderful as Aunt Mollie. Don’t you?”

Any way you slice it, this is dirty pool. “Well, I think that he and his family already have plenty going on, and I should just be glad that he finds the time to text me as often as he does.”

Sam continues swaying her daughter toward her side of the argument. The two of them, piling reason on top of reason why it’s a good idea.

* * *

I shouldn’t be here. It’s not like I don’t realize it. I do. The question I keep rolling over is, how did I allow myself to be talked into this? Answer—she’s six years old and has me wrapped firmly around her little finger (probably all of them).

I sit in the waiting area, nervously gripping the basket in my lap while trying to decide how much longer to wait—and what it is I think I’m waiting for. Did I honestly believe he would just magically walk by and notice me? Did I really think I was going to walk straight up to Chet’s hospital room and knock on the door? Just let myself in? Because why? Because I brought lunch?

Should I get up now and run out of here before I make a complete fool of myself? Common sense finds its way to the party and tells me, yes. Yes, I should do exactly that. And I should do it right now.

I stand to leave. But after a grand total of three steps I’m stopped by the sound of someone calling my name.

“Mollie? Is that you?”

Oh my God! If I just keep walking and don’t turn around, maybe he’ll assume he was mistaken. Please, let him assume he was mistaken.

“Hey, it is you. What are you doing here?”

I stop, spin on my heel, and paint on my best fake smile. “Hey, Hank. You know…Belle’s Diner likes us to go the extra mile for its best customers.” I awkwardly hold up the basket in my hand and pray for the best.

Hank pauses, raises a brow, and nods as he lets out a hearty chuckle. “Well, with all the stress right now, the family will certainly be heartened to know where we stand with the diner.”

---