Page 22 of Til Death Do Us Part (Kornilov Bratva Duet 2)

The silence stretches out so long I’m sure she has hung up, but finally, Molly clears her throat. “Hannah would have to watch Theo.”

That isn’t a refusal. She’s willing.

“I’ll call the nanny to come back over, too.” I hope she can’t see my offer for what it is—distrust of her friend. “Just in case,” I add.

To my surprise and delight, Molly doesn’t argue or refuse. She tells me to pick her up in twenty minutes.

She meets me outside wearing a devastating pair of jeans and a low-cut gray sweater, and I whisk her towards my favorite lunch spot—a quiet Italian joint with flickering candles on the tables and soft music in the background. When I’m halfway there, however, I remember the night after the ceremony. The way Molly felt uncomfortable in the fancy environment of etiquette and gowns. The Italian place isn’t fancy, but it isn’t what she is used to.

On nothing more than a feeling, I turn away from where I was headed and casually scour the roads as we drive, searching for a suitable alternative. When I see a greasy spoon I’ve been to a few different times, I pull over and help her out of the car.

The booths are lined in red vinyl, neon lights wrap around the ceiling, and pictures of Elvis and Marilyn Monroe cover the walls. It is Americana in all of its glory. The menu is, too—nothing but hamburgers, French fries, and milkshakes. Given Molly’s recent penchant for onion rings, I know she’ll approve. The smile on her face as we are seated confirms it.

“I can’t believe a lunch with Viktor Kornilov involves paper cups of ketchup,” she says, dunking a French fry in the sauce.

“What did you imagine?”

“Silver serving trays and five-hundred-dollar bottles of wine.”

“Only five hundred?” I ask, brows pinched together in mock surprise. “You insult me.”

She laughs, and the sound of it rings in my chest, opening my lungs for what feels like my first breath of fresh air in weeks. This is what I want my marriage to Molly to look like. My entire life has been heavy. Death and drugs and crime. It is the life I’ve known and, there is no sense denying it, loved. But it feels good to balance that with Molly’s lightness. Her laugh and her ease. I worry every day that my darkness will drag her down with me, but I pray that isn’t true. I hope, once everything with Fedor is settled, she’ll pull me a little closer to the light.

“This is amazing, though. Really.” There is a soft emphasis in her voice, and she purses her pink lips together until I can’t think about anything other than leaning across the table and kissing her. It has been several days. Too many days. I miss her.

I ask her how classes are going, and she tells me she is as determined as ever to get the necessary certifications to become an interior designer. She wants to own her own company and have employees, and hearing her talk about her future makes me wonder if I’m part of her plans.

If we make our marriage official, she certainly won’t need a job, but I would never tell her she couldn’t have one. My brother derailed her life, and maybe this is just another instance of me wanting to clean up his messes, but I would like to help her put it back on track. I want Molly to accomplish all of her goals. I don’t want Fedor’s action to steal anything from her.

“You did amazing with Theo’s nursery at my place,” I say. She designed the room when she and Theo were living with me. “I’m sure you could have your own design business right now if you wanted.”

“Thanks, but that was just a small project,” she says. “With help from your designer. I don’t know enough to do it all on my own yet. But I will.”

She lifts her chin and pushes her shoulders back, and the confidence is sexy on her. It also doesn’t make my attraction to her any easier to ignore. I want to throw her over my shoulder, carry her to the car, and have my way with her in the back seat.

“Dessert?”

Our waitress is holding out a dessert menu, but Molly waves it away before I can answer and orders us a milkshake to share. It feels a little Happy Days to me, but I’ll do it. Especially if it keeps the smile on her face a little longer.

The waitress goes back to the kitchen to put in our order, and Molly opens her mouth to continue talking but is cut off by the sound of her own name.

“Molly?”

We both turn and see a thin blonde woman with fake lashes and bright red lipstick. Her arm is wrapped around the arm of a man with shoulders as wide as mine but a gut twice as big. It hangs over the edge of his pants a bit, and he has to keep adjusting his shirt to make sure it is covered.

Molly blinks in surprise. “Angela?”

The blonde woman smiles and rushes forward, arms open for a hug. “Holy shit. I haven’t seen you since … high school. Really? Has it been that long? Damn. How are you?”

Molly looks at me over the woman’s shoulder, stunned. When they pull away from the hug, she manages to arrange her mouth into a smile. “I’m good. How are you?”

“You had a kid, right?” Angela looks around like she expects Theo to come crawling out from under the table. “Right after high school?”

Molly nods. “Yeah, Theo. He’s four.”

Angela whistles. “I can’t imagine having a four-year-old. Man, that’s crazy. Who was the dad? There were rumors, but—”

“How are you?” Molly asks, cutting her off.

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