Page 98 of The Wild Card
“That’s good,” Pat says, just as Lindy says, “Definitely higher.”
My brother and his wife might think they’re having the most fun in the room, but it’sdefinitelyMolly and me. Especially when Lindy insists that we need some kissing pictures.
“Just to clear up any confusion in case anyone thinks it’s fake,” Pat says, reasonably.
“Why would anyone jump to that conclusion?” I ask, just as reasonably.
“You know how social media is,” Lindy says loftily, as though she, not Molly, is the expert in this area.
But it’s no hardship to kiss Molly, so I don’t protest any more. Would I prefer not to make out in front of my brother and his wife? Sure. But I’ll take any chance I can get to kiss Molly, so I’m more than happy to oblige.
Plus, it’s fun trying to makethemuncomfortable when they’re trying to mess withus.
“Uh, I think we’ve got enough of you kissing,” Lindy says at some point. I forgot for a moment that she and Pat are even here.
“Are you sure?” I ask, barely pulling my mouth away from Molly’s. “I think you need some photos to go along with the video. Just so we have a lot to work with. How about a few more?”
I dive back in for more, swallowing Molly’s giggle until it turns into a sigh.
Pat clears his throat a few moments later. “I’m pretty sure the people will be sufficiently convinced.”
“Isn’t keeping this secret fun?” I murmur in Molly’s ear before giving her earlobe a little nibble.
“Good thing we’ve had lots of practice,” Molly whispers back.
I think it’s the excessive kissing that finally makes Pat and Lindy so uncomfortable that they leave. Either that, or we inspired them to do some making out of their own—without an audience or someone taking pictures.
The moment they leave the loft, Molly and I collapse on the couch, laughing. “You were right,” she tells me, grinning. “Messing with them is excessively fun. As long as you promise they won’t be mad.”
“No one will be mad,” I assure her. “But I can’t promise we haven’t just started what might be a years-long prank battle.”
If she notices the fact that I so easily mentioned years, just assuming that we’d have many more to come, Molly doesn’t say anything about it. Neither do I.
Because, I realize, the idea of Molly being around for years, being part of my family’s prank wars, sounds very, very right.
“Since you’re not posting anymore, I guess now you just have an extensive private collection featuring us,” I say, swipingthrough the photos and videos Lindy took. I send most of them to my phone, fully intending to have prints made of several. Lindy didn’t do half bad.
Molly got quiet, and I looked up. “I can post them,” she says. “I don’t need to walk away yet. I said I’d help you and I want to do that.”
I shake my head, setting the phone on the table before taking Molly’s hand and kissing her knuckles. “You don’t need to do that. I promise.”
“But the first video did so well. A few more and?—”
“No. Maybe all it took was one viral video to help shift the tide of public opinion. Thayden’s been calling me all week, and I haven’t called him back yet, so it could be good news. But even if not, I don’t want you to postpone walking away if it’s what you want.”
“You haven’t talked to him yet? I was supposed to tell you that he said you better call him before he has to drive back over to Sheet Cake.”
“When didyoutalk to him?” I asked.
“Yesterday or the day before? It was just about the Brightmark contract. He looked it over for me.”
“And? Was everything okay?”
“Yep. It’s fine. Just a standard contract.” Her smile loses a little of its sparkle. “You should really call Thayden. What if it’s good news? What if you’ve got a buyer for the gym?”
I doubt it, and I don’t miss the way she changed the subject, though I don’t know why. There are a few topics I’ve noticed Molly hedging around. Her job at Brightmark is one. Her family—especially her father—is the other. I’m at least glad she admitted that she didn’t want to do social media anymore. My hope is that soon she’ll open up about whatever else she’s holding back.
Though I know she’s nothing like Liza, it does trip me up a little knowing she’s keeping things from me.Not lying, I tell myself.Learning to trust.
