Page 17 of Molly

“I will.”

“And I won’t be home too late. We’re just going to have a drink at Ryan’s before I come home.”

She laughs. “Okay, Mol. Don’t rush. I’ll put Em to bed and veg out on the couch ‘til you get here. Hell, if you come home and I’m asleep, just leave me here.”

“Okay, will do.”

“Love you,” she says and then hangs up before I get a chance to say it back.

I put my phone back in my clutch and look up at Ryan. He’s holding the car door open for me, waiting for me to climb in. He looks fucking delicious in his black slacks and maroon collared shirt, and I’m so busy checking him out that it takes me a minute to realise he spoke.

“Sorry, what?” I ask.

He grins, obviously aware of what caused my brain to malfunction. “I asked if we’re still good to go back to my place or if you want me to drop you home?”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, I’ll come back for a drink. Evie said it’s all going fine.”

“Molly, I don’t mind if you wan-”

“No,” I cut him off. “I want to come back to your place, Ry. I promise.” I slip past him and sit down.

“Perfect,” He replies, slowly undressing me with his eyes before closing the door and rounding the car to climb into the driver’s seat.

As we head towards his house, his hand finds its way to my thigh, and he draws circles with his index finger along my skin. I have to fight the urge to squirm in my seat. He has a little smirk on his face when I look up at him, but his eyes remain on the road. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You look so beautiful tonight, Mol,” he says, squeezing my thigh.

I feel my cheeks redden and choke out a thank you. Penny came by earlier and picked out my outfit. I’m wearing a strapless, tight black dress. It comes down to my knees, so she assured me it was appropriate for dinner. I didn’t have to wear a bra with it either, so it was a win in my book. Comfort over fashion, always. She straightened my hair and then curled it so it waved nicely down my back, and even though my makeup is more than I’m used to, I love it. She contoured the shit out of my face, applied a dark nude lipstick and winged out my eyeliner. I feel sexy for the first time since having Emma.

Ryan squeezes again, sending a tingle through my body. I rub my lips together and play with the ends of my hair, avoiding his heated gaze. I’m turned on enough by his hand simply making contact with my skin. No need to add fuel to the fire.

The drive only lasts ten minutes, and once we’re inside, Ryan pours me a glass of Moscato and grabs a beer for himself. He asked me what I like to drink yesterday while we were messaging and must have picked up a bottle to have in the fridge for me.Cute.

We sit down, sprawling out on the couch, talking about the food we ate and the full sleeve tattoo he’s doing tomorrow. Somehow, my legs end up over his lap, and his fingertips begin to trace along my inner thigh, under my dress. My skin tingles every time he moves.

“Tell me more about Emma,” he says before taking a sip of beer.

I grin, thinking about my baby. “She’s incredible, always smiling and laughing. She’s so smart it blows my mind. She started crawling really early and took her first steps just before she turned nine months old. She basically came out of me wanting to move. She loves dolls and most things girly and pink, but she gets out in the dirt with me and gets messy without blinking. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, hands down...”

He nods, his eyebrows drawing together. “Where’s her dad, Mol? You haven’t mentioned him.” His voice is low and cautious.

I bite my bottom lip nervously. I knew we’d have to talk about this eventually. “I uh, I met Emma’s dad at the pub one night with Penny and Evie. Lachlan was older, sweet, charming. I was a nineteen-year-old virgin who had spent all this time thinking I’d meet the perfect guy, fall in love and only ever be with him. Silly, I know...”

“Not silly, baby,” he says, a sympathetic smile on his face.

I nod and continue. “I’d been dating this guy, Declan, for a while, and when I wouldn’t sleep with him after a month, he broke it off. I was pissed, so the girls took me out to drink my sorrows away. When I met Lachlan, I was just drunk enough to not care anymore. Lost my virginity in the back of his car in a dimly lit pub parking lot.” I look away, refusing to make eye contact with him, scared of what I’ll see if I do. “I found out I was pregnant with Emma about eight weeks later. My periods have always been weird, so I didn’t notice how late it was. I tried to find him, asked at the pub, looked up his name on Facebook, but because I only knew his first name, it was impossible.” I pause, taking a deep breath. “Five months later, I saw him at Foodland. He didn’t even recognise me. When I told him I was pregnant, he laughed in my face, called me a slut, and told me if I was, it wasn’t his.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry, baby,” he says, taking my hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

I nod, feeling my lip tremble from the memory. “When I went into labour, Evie and Penny were with me. We were all still living together at that point. They held my hand through it all, helped me raise her. She’s never even been in day-care. If I’m at work, one of the girls has her. That’s why I take random days off. We all sort of swap around so that Emma is taken care of.”

He smiles at that and tilts his head slightly. “Maybe one day he’ll want contact.. want to meet her?”

I shake my head. “He died.” He sucks in a shocked breath, eyes wide, and I continue. “Penny had been talking to one of his friends the night we met, so she recognised him when he came into the cafe. Emma was about four months old at the time. She asked him about Lachlan. He told her he was an alcoholic, been in and out of rehab, but it never seemed to stick. He’d gotten drunk one night and ran his car straight into a tree.”

“Molly...” he whispers.

I lift my head, looking at him. “I don’t even know his last name. Couldn’t put him on Em’s birth certificate when she was born because I couldn’t even tell them his full fucking name.” An angry tear rolls down my face, and Ryan stops it with his thumb, rubbing it up and down my cheek. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain that to her when she asks about him...” I look down at the floor, ashamed of myself.

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