Page 12 of Molly

I’ll never use the word no again if this is how she responds to a yes.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a minute.”

She returns with Evie trailing along behind her, carrying new mugs, two pieces of the most delicious looking chocolate cake I’ve ever seen, and a tray of sandwiches.

“So, tell me aboutyou, Molly. Why’d you and Penny decide to open this place? Why not just a plant shop if that’s your thing?” I ask once she’s sat back down, picking up a cheese and tomato sandwich and taking a bite.

“I don’t even know where to start,” she says, looking off to the side.

“From the beginning usually works.” I smile.

She laughs. “Uh, okay. So, when I was five, my mum decided she didn’t want to be a mother anymore and left me with my grandma. I moved to a new school in the middle of the year and met Penny. I was a really shy kid, but she noticed me straight away and took me under her wing. We’ve been inseparable ever since. When I was sixteen, my grandma had to move into a nursing home. She couldn’t really take care of herself anymore, and I wasn’t legally able to be her carer while I was still a minor, so Penny’s mum, Kristen, let me come and stay with them. She was a single mum, so it was just the three of us at home. In her spare time, she was always pottering around in her garden, and I took an interest in it instantly. She taught me everything I know about plants. She did the same with Penny and baking.”

I nod. “It’s pretty amazing that she did that for you.”

She nods enthusiastically, taking a bite of chocolate cake before continuing. “She’s great, kindest woman I know. When we graduated, Penny and I both worked at this horrible little cafe for a few months and then came up with the idea to open our own. Kristen met Garry, her now-husband, and they decided they wanted to travel, so they sold her house, bought a caravan and gave us some of the money they had left to buy this place.” She gestures around the room with her hands. “So yeah, we wanted to open a café. I love plants. Penny loves baking, and here we are. Coffee Leaf Cafe.”

“It’s awesome. You've done good, Mol,” I say, really meaning it. I hate that her childhood was full of rejection and uncertainty, but she’s made the best of a bad situation and come out the other side swinging.

“Place wouldn't run without Evie. She was the first person we hired. Took her on as a waitress. Poor little thing came in looking so lost. She was a foster care kid, aged out of the system. Foster parents had kicked her out, and she was living in her car, didn't know what to do with herself, so we hired her.”

“Evie?” I ask, bewildered. There’s no way. She fucking radiates confidence and happiness. How does a kid go from living in her car to being like that? I look at Molly and realise that’s how. I feel like with Molly at your back, it’d be hardnotto believe in yourself.

“Mhmm. Turns out she’s crazy smart. After a few months, she started doing all of our books and basically running the place for us. Never seen someone work as hard as she does. She lives with Penny now. We did all live together for a while there, but I moved into my own place just over a year ago.”

“She’s lucky she found you, Mol.”

“Nah, we’re lucky we found her,” she replies, smiling to herself as she lifts her mug to her lips.

“So, the three of you are pretty tight, then?” I ask, already knowing the answer by the way she talks about them.

“Yeah, they're my family. Don’t know what I’d do without them.”

I nod, thinking back on what she said before. “Where’s your grandma now, Mol? You still keep in touch?”

She looks down at the table. “Oh, uh, she passed away last year.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Shrugging one shoulder, she says, “She lived a good, long life. It sucked, but she’s off with my grandpa now, where she wanted to be.”

Fuck me. Of course, that’s her response.I reach forward and put my hand over hers, squeezing it. “I love that you see it that way.”

A slight blush covers her cheeks when she looks down at our hands. My chest tightens. I love that blush. I love that she’s telling me all of this. I soak it in and pray she’ll stay this way. Open, carefree, trusting.

For the next half an hour, she tells me about Penny’s baking mishaps and Evie’s dating horror stories.

“I swear, he asked if she’d let him spit in her mouth. She called me from the car, still laughing.”

“Poor guy, he probably thought she’d be totally into it,” I reply, chuckling at the thought. I’ve heard of some weird kinks, but spitting in someone’s mouth? Not my cup of tea, that’s for sure.

“She started this Instagram account calledTheSerialFirst-Dater. She’s slowly working her way through the men of Adelaide, one date at a time. She has so many funny stories.”

I shake my head, taking a sip of my coffee. “She gone on any second dates?”

She scoffs. “Not a single one. She’s waiting on herprince charming, apparently.” She continues filling me in on little fairies’ shenanigans, and I try to keep up. She talks like she’s on speed when she gets going and giggles at her own jokes. It’s fucking adorable. I tell her about a client that came in yesterday wanting me to tattoo his dick, and she chokes on her coffee from laughing so hard. I get up and round the table to pat her back while she splutters. When she stops and looks up at me, my breath catches in my throat.

I’m an artist. I’ve seen my fair share of beauty, but to this day, I’ve never seen anything as breathtaking as Molly Jackson.

---