Page 95 of Breaking Emily's Rules
But unless she was kidding herself, he did seem a little more relaxed around her these days. Occasionally she’d glance his way to catch him staring at her before he’d quickly looked away.
“How often are you getting that baby, Molly?” Conchita asked, pouring conditioner in her hands.
“Three times a week. I’m seeing her this afternoon.” Molly patted Luanne’s hair and wrapped it in a towel.
“Why only three times a week?” Conchita asked. “You’re that baby’s mother.”
“I’m letting Dylan call the shots for now,” Molly said. “Soon enough, I’ll be able to watch her while he works.”
“What kind of nonsense is this?” Conchita scowled. “You mean you’re not even good enough to babysit? He has to be there when you visit her? Like supervised visits?”
Conchita didn’t know the details. Didn’t know the full story. But apparently, because she had a hundred grandchildren, she considered herself an authority.
“They’re not supervised. He leaves the room and sometimes works in the garage or in the backyard. I’m alone with her a lot.”
“She’s your daughter. You’re not the babysitter.” Conchita said.
She had a point. So far Molly hadn’t made any mistakes, and damn it, she’d been the one to take care of Sierra on her own for six months. She could take care of her own daughter, thank you very much.
“You’re right. I’m going to talk to him about this.”
* * *
Sierra didn’t usuallywantto be held unless it was bedtime, or if she wanted to reach the window so she could watch Dylan at work in the backyard.
Molly picked her up and Sierra pointed to the window. Her little legs kicked in joy.
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.”
Most of the time, Molly couldn’t blame Sierra. Like today. Dylan was working on pruning the apple tree and had pushed up a ladder to get to the tallest branches. He’d pulled his shirt off, and the sweat glistened on his back, making his muscles stand out. He was all man, that one, and he didn’t make it easy for Molly to forget it. Almost like he threw it in her face, sometimes—making her regret she’d left.
Today they were going to talk about their little arrangement, one way or another. But when she’d arrived this afternoon, it was clear Dylan had mapped out the day as usual. So she’d played with Sierra and fed her a peanut butter sandwich. WatchedBeauty and the Beastwith her and tried to distract her from the windows. But Sierra, it would seem, couldn’t be dissuaded too long from seeing her daddy. It didn’t help that he was in the backyard, one of her favorite places on earth.
Molly opened the window. “She wants you, Dylan.”
So did she, for that matter, not that he cared.
“Hi, Daddy! Hi! Me out.” Sierra squealed.
“Not now, sweetie. Keep her inside, Molly. I’ve got too many tools lying around. She could get hurt.”
“All right.” Molly shut the window and put Sierra down, who whined. “Let’s go see if there are any more of those cookies.”
It would have been so much easier had she been allowed to take her daughter out of the house. The park would do it, for sure. But she wasn’t allowed to take Sierra anywhere. Even though it had been two weeks since she’d started coming over. Sierra still wasn’t calling her Mommy, even though Molly encouraged her frequently.
Molly had her speech prepared. She’d tell Dylan that while she appreciated everything his mother had done for Sierra in the past few months, Violet’s babysitting services would no longer be required. Violet could take a backseat now and be grandma for a while. As long as Molly started out by acknowledging the way Dylan’s family had pitched in, the rest might be well received. It sounded like something Emily would approve of, so it had to be good.
An hour later, Molly had read every book in Sierra’s bedroom, and Dylan still hadn’t come inside. “Let’s see what your daddy is doing.”
Molly wandered over to the window, where she saw Dylan on the ground, appearing to inspect his leg. But the way he sat on the ground, one of his legs crooked, didn’t look natural.
Molly opened the window. “Hey, Dylan? Are you almost done?”
“Call nine-one-one. I broke my ankle.” Dylan said the words easily, but they caused a cataclysm in Molly’s heart.
She picked up Sierra and rushed out the back door, phone in hand. “What happened? What did you do? Did you climb up there and fall down?”
“Calm down. You’re upsetting Sierra,” Dylan said, his face ashen gray. His pant leg was covered in blood. “Don’t look. It’s a compound fracture.”
