Page 70 of Molly

“Where were you last night, Ryan?” she hisses through her teeth, narrowing her eyes at me.

“What?” I ask, completely taken aback by her question. What the hell does she mean where was I last night? I was at her house when I got the call about the break-in. I messaged her at fucking 4:00AM...

“Answer the question,” she snaps.

I take a step towards her, and she takes one back, maintaining the distance between us. I don’t like this one fucking bit. “Molly, what’s going on here? You knew I was going to the shop last night. You were there when I got the call. I messaged you before I crashed on the couch.”

“No, you fucking didn’t! Were you with her?” she asks again.

“Baby, calm down. Please. Explain to me what’s got you so worked up. Was I with who? Spell this out for me.”

She throws the t-shirt at me, and I catch it without thinking. “Well, you see, your friend Jess came into the cafe this morning to return your shirt. And I’m sure you can understand that after spending the night worrying about you and waiting for you to respond to me, I was a little thrown to learn that you spent the night with her, instead.”

“Come again?” I ask, taken aback.

“You heard me.”

I shake my head and reach out to grab her, but she jerks away from my touch. “Molly. Stop. What the fuck are you talking about? I spent my night cleaning up the shop. I’ve got cuts all over my hands from the broken glass to prove it. I crashed on the couch at 4:00AM because I was too fucking tired to drive home. I haven’t seen or spoken to Jess since she came into the shop a few weeks back, you know that.”

She shakes her head, her bottom lip trembling slightly. “She still calls you constantly.”

“I’ll block her, I would have already, but you told me not to.”

“Because she’ll just rock up at the shop, or your house, or somewhere else if she can’t call!” she snaps.

“Molly...” I whisper.

A tear trails down her cheek. “You’ve hidden things before. About her.”

I groan. “I did that because I didn’t want you to be upset, baby, not so that I could run around cheating on you.” She sucks in a deep breath and turns her head away from me, hunching her shoulders. “Molly, you have to trust me. You can call Beckett if you want, ask him. He’ll tell you I was there.”

Her eyes slowly turn back to me. “That’s the problem, though, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have to call him to confirm where you were. I should trust you...” her voice trails off, and she stares at the wall, her expression blank.

“Baby, come and sit down, have a coffee. Let’s talk about it. My brain's not even functioning enough to process this right now.”

She shakes her head. “There’s nothing to process. You didn’t come home. Jess returned your t-shirt and said she spent the night with you. End of conversation.”

“Right,” I snap, getting fed up with this conversation already. I storm down the hallway, snatch my phone off the bedside table, turn it on and march back towards her. “Here, look. I messaged you right before I-”Fuck. I didn’t press send.I sigh and look up at her, my heart breaking a little from the look on her face. As tired as I am, I can see she is too. “Look, baby.” I pass her my phone. “I didn’t press send, and I’m sorry about that, but I wrote the message. I thought I let you know I was okay... last night was a shit show, to say the least. I was exhausted. I’m sorry you worried, but I promise you, I was there all night. I don’t know why Jess would say that, Mol. It’s not true. I would never cheat on you.”

She nods and hands my phone back before wiping her face with both hands. Her eyes focus on my lips, and she whispers, “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“Me. You believe me.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not that simple.”

I step forward and take her face in my hands, tilting her head back, forcing her to look me in the eye. “I love you, Molly. Don’t do this.”

Her bottom lip trembles, and her beautiful green eyes bounce back and forth between mine before she nods. “I just, I need a minute. A breather. Give me a couple of days, and we’ll talk.”

“Molly, please...”

“I just need to think about this. My head is a mess. Please, give me that,” she pleads.

“I’m afraid of what that means for us...” I whisper.

She nods. “Me too.”

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