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“I’m sorry, Eric,” she continued, her words rushing together. “I don’t want to mess up your life like I’ve messed up my own.”
“Molly, you’re not messing up my life.”
“But I don’t want to get you in trouble with your girlfriend.”
“You don’t have to worry about my girlfriend.”
“She’s understanding, then?” Molly asked anxiously. “She knows we’re just friends?”
He shook his head. “You don’t need to worry about my girlfriend because I don’t have one.”
Her slim shoulders slumped, as if she was relieved. Was it just because she felt she had no place else to stay?
“But you have a fiancé,” he reminded her.
She reached for the veil that Eric had dropped on the counter and knotted her fingers in the lace. A square diamond glinted on her left hand. “I don’t anymore.”
“Does he know that?” Eric wondered.
“He’s a smart guy,” she said. “I think he probably figured out our engagement was over when I went out the window.”
The thought of perfect little Molly slipping out a church window had a chuckle rumbling in his throat. “You really went out the window? You—Molly McClintock?”
“You don’t need to sound so shocked,” she protested, sounding offended.
“Going out a window is something Abby Hamilton might do.” He referred to another member of their group of friends, the one who had always gotten into trouble. And had occasionally gotten the rest of them into trouble, as well. He glanced down at the tattoo encircling his arm. Getting ‘tats’ had been Abby’s idea, yet she was the only one of the friends who hadn’t actually gotten “inked.”
“She’s back, you know,” Molly said, her eyes glimmering with happiness.
“That’s great. I can’t wait to see her.” Abby Hamilton had left town eight years ago, and she hadn’t returned once to Cloverville. But since then Eric had visited her and her daughter a couple of times in Detroit and Chicago.
“You would have seen her and Lara if you had come to the rehearsal dinner last night.”
But then he would have had to see Molly’s fiancé, too. Not that he hadn’t seen Dr. Josh Towers before. The plastic surgeon was on staff at the hospital in Grand Rapids where Eric often brought patients, via ambulance or aeromed helicopter. Eric had skipped the rehearsal because he hadn’t wanted to see Towers with Molly, holding hands, kissing. Whatever people in love did.
He had never really been “in love.” He didn’t count the crush he’d had on Molly in the second grade and for most of the following years. But even with his limited experience, he doubted that people in love climbed out windows and left their beloved alone at the altar, humiliated in front of the entire town.
“It’s not like you to take off this way,” Eric pointed out. “And Abby’s not been back long enough to be a bad influence on you again.”
Despite the tattoo, Eric had considered Abby more good influence than bad; she had taught them all how to have fun. But Clayton, Molly’s older brother, had always considered her to be nothing but trouble.
“Who was really the bad influence on whom?” Molly asked as she flashed a smile. “Abby doesn’t have a tattoo.”
Eric closed his eyes as he remembered where Molly had gotten hers—not that a shoulder blade was a particularly sexy spot, but she’d had to strip down to her bra so that the artist could tattoo an open book onto her skin. Because she’d been in pain, she’d wanted Eric to hold her hand.
And that was why she’d come to him now—because she was in pain. He wouldn’t push her for answers she didn’t have. He would just hold her hand. He reached for her fingers and linked them with his. “It doesn’t matter what you did or why, you’re always welcome here.”
She stared up at him. “You really don’t mind that I stay?”
“You can stay however long you want,” he assured her.
Molly rose from the stool and pressed her body against his, sliding her arm around his back to hold him tight—as if she needed someone to hold on to to keep herself from falling over or falling apart.
His body tensed as she clung to him. One of her curls tickled his chin as her soft hair brushed his ear and his neck. He resisted the urge to pull her closer yet and press his lips to hers.
“Thank you, Eric. I knew I could count on you.” She slammed the heel of her hand against his shoulder. “Even though you bailed on me. You never said why you backed out of standing up for me.”
He couldn’t tell her; he couldn’t add to her burden. She already had one man in love with her whom she apparently didn’t love back—or hadn’t loved enough to marry. Not that Eric was really in love with her, but old crushes died hard. At least that was the way it was with his crush on her.
“Molly, I—”
“If it wasn’t because of your scar, why did you change your mind about being in my wedding party?” Her dark eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You knew, didn’t you? You’ve always known me so well. You knew I was making a mistake and you didn’t want to be part of it.”
“It all seemed kind of sudden,” he admitted. She’d certainly taken him by surprise. He hadn’t even realized she was dating anyone when she announced her engagement.
“Too sudden,” she agreed as she pulled herself from his arms to pace back into the living room.
“So that’s why you went out the window?” Because it was too soon and not because she didn’t love her fiancé?
The phone jangled again, but this time Eric let it ring.
“You’re not going to answer it?”
He shook his head. “It’s one of them—Colleen or Abby or Brenna.” Brenna Kelly, the maid of honor, had been perhaps the most upset of Molly’s friends and family. She’d always been the mother of their group of friends.
“I asked them to leave me alone, so I could think,” Molly murmured.
“You left a note.” Abby had told him about the note pinned to the wedding dress, which had been addressed to her and not the groom.
“I just need some time. Thanks for letting me stay here until I sort things out.”
Despite his dry throat, he swallowed hard and repeated his earlier question, “How long?”
She lifted her slender shoulders in a slight shrug. “I don’t know…”
“You’re going to need some things.” Like a lock for her bedroom door, in order for him to maintain his sanity. He cleared his throat and offered, “Do you want me to swing by your house and get your mother to pack you a bag?”
She shook her head. “No. Then everyone will know where I am.”
He gestured toward the phone just as the persistent ringing finally stopped. “You don’t think they already know?”
Despite the sudden silence Molly continued to stare at the phone—as if waiting for it to ring again. “I’m sorry, Eric,” she said, her voice heavy with regret. “I’m so sorry that I’m dumping all my troubles on you.”
“Quit apologizing, Molly.”
She smiled. “You hate contrition. And gratitude. And pity. Is there anything you don’t hate, Eric?”
Her. He could never hate her, not even when she’d been about to marry another man. And he’d tried. “I’m a miserable old grump. Are you sure you want to stay here?”
She nodded. “I don’t have anyplace else to go.”
“Oh, Molly, that’s not true. Your family loves you and will always support you.” Her family had struggled for quite a while to deal with her father’s death eight years ago, but they’d recovered and were stronger than ever. Because they’d been there for each other. Just as his uncle had been there for him.
He added, “And you have so many friends.”
She pressed her palms over her eyes. “I can’t face them. I let them all down—I let everyone down.”
“Molly, that’s not true.”
“Don’t,” she said, her voice as hard as her gaze when she shifted her hands away from her face. “Don’t lie to me. You’ve never lied to me.”
Never to her. Only about her, to himself. “Then believe what I’m telling you. No one is angry with you.” Except maybe Brenna, who had worked hard on the wedding since Molly had been too busy with medical school. “They’re only worried about you. They want to be certain that you’re all right.”
On cue, the phone began to ring again.
Molly closed her eyes as if trying to retreat inside herself, to hide.
He sighed. “Maybe if I tell them you’re here and you’re okay, they’ll stop calling.”
“I don’t know, Eric,” she said, her voice quavering with uncertainty. “I don’t know that I’m okay. But I don’t want you to lie for me, either.”
“What do you want from me?” he asked, his breath burning his lungs as he held it—waiting for her answer.
She lifted her gaze to him. “Probably too much…”
His heart rate quickened. “What do you mean?”
She gestured toward the cordless phone, vibrating with each ring on the countertop. “I shouldn’t put you in this position, of having to hide me. They’re going to keep bugging you.”
“I can unplug it,” he offered. But he’d do more. He’d always done whatever she asked of him—except once.
“No. They’ll give up.” Still the ringing persisted. “Eventually.” Her lips lifted in a stiff smile.
“Since you don’t want me to turn off the phone, what can I do for you?” Could he hold her hand? Kiss her?
“I have a suitcase in the trunk of my car, with enough things packed for two weeks.”
Two weeks. “Your clothes for your honeymoon?” He bit his tongue to hold back a groan as he imagined a sexy assortment of lingerie and bikinis.
She chuckled. “Yes. Looks like I’m going to be spending my honeymoon with you.”
That dream—of a honeymoon with Molly McClintock—had fueled his adolescent fantasies and kept him alive during his years in the Marines.
Now he realized why people always warned you to be careful what you wished for. That fantasy of spending a honeymoon with Molly was going to be a dismal reality, since she’d be crying on his shoulder over another man.
Chapter Two
A honeymoon. The thought of spending one with her fiancé had scared Molly as much as the marriage itself. She hadn’t shared anything more than a few chaste kisses with Dr. Joshua Towers. Despite his good looks, he hadn’t inspired any desire in her—no quickening of her pulse, no rush of heat. But the mention of a honeymoon with Eric instantly shortened her breath. She pushed her trembling hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt.
“You’re shaking,” Eric said.
She wasn’t surprised that he noticed. Nothing ever escaped his attention. Apparently he’d known she was making a mistake before she had.
Unwilling to admit to another weakness, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “It’s on vibrate.”
“You should shut it off,” he advised.
She nodded. “You’re right.” Of course. He was always right. But she’d already shut off the phone. Now if only she could shut off her tumultuous emotions—guilt being the predominant one. “I wish you had told me.”
“What?” he asked, his brow furrowing with confusion.
“I wish you’d told me that I was making a mistake,” she clarified.
“No one else told you?”
Her head still pounding from Abby’s lecture the night before at her bachelorette/slumber party at her mom’s, she admitted, “Abby might have said a thing or ten about my rushing into this marriage.”
His gray eyes brightening with humor, he asked, “So did you listen?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Without a wedding band on her finger; without having committed herself to a man she didn’t love.
“So Abby talked you out of marrying this guy?”
She shook her head. “No.” She’d come to her senses on her own. She only wished she had done it sooner. For example, before she’d accepted Josh’s proposal.
“Then how could I have talked you out of it?” Eric asked.
“I would have listened to you.”
“But would you have heard me?” His mouth slid into that endearing lopsided grin. “Come on, Molly. I’ve known you a long time. I know you have to make up your own mind.”
Have to. But could she? She already knew she wasn’t getting married, but that was all she’d figured out about her life—about her future. She shrugged off the tension tightening the muscles in her neck and shoulders. She had time—at least two weeks—to figure out her next move.
She forced a challenging smile. “Are you calling me stubborn?”
His grin widened. “I didn’t say you were the only one.”
“I’m not. You did something none of us could talk you out of doing.” Enlisting in the Marines.
She fisted her hands as they began to tremble again, old fear echoing in her heart. She had been so terrified she would lose him, just as she had lost her father. But Eric hadn’t backed out—not even for her. And she’d begged him not to go. Their other friends had always teased her that Eric was in love with her, but they’d been wrong. If he had loved her, he wouldn’t have left her when she needed him most. He wouldn’t have put her through the terror of losing someone else important to her. Someone she loved.
She drew in a shuddering breath. “At least I came to my senses before I did something stupid.”
Almost absentmindedly he stroked his knuckles across his scar. His voice hard with pride and his memories, he insisted, “It wasn’t stupid.”
She knew he spoke of the Marines, not her near-miss marriage. “I’m sorry, Eric.”
“What did I say about apologizing?” he reminded her. “Quit it.”
