Page 9 of Molly's Mr. Wrong
She had to assume he was. He was paying for the course.
Finn, the sports hero, had obviously not spent much time in English class and now he was suffering the consequences. That piper, which people spoke of paying, was now making an appearance in Mr. Culver’s life, and she was in the unhappy position of having to point this fact out to him.
She marked his paper, the last of the evening, and slipped her grading folders into her bag as the phone rang.Please, don’t be the plumber canceling...
“Molly? Hey.” She froze at the rich deep tones of her ex’s voice. “Molly?” he repeated.
“Yes.”
“How’re you doing in Big Sky Country?”
“I’m doing well, thank you.” If she didn’t make small talk, he’d get to his point and they could end this conversation all the sooner.
“I’m doing pretty good down here in Arizona, too, thanks for asking.”
She drew in a breath, but kept her mouth shut. “The season is winding down, but it’s been a good one.”
“What do you need, Blake?”
“I need the sale of the house to hurry along so I have some money to live on during the winter.” Twice the small house they’d shared had been in escrow and twice it had fallen through as the market fluctuated.
“And I’m supposed to do that how?”
“Would you let me borrow some money against the sale?”
“Are you kidding?” She used to be nicer about this. So much nicer.
“I need it.” His voice went flat.
“No.” Blake was still having trouble getting it through his head that she wasn’t in the make-Blake’s-life-easier club anymore. When he hit a wall, the first person he’d turn to, if he didn’t have a current girlfriend, was her. For old time’s sake. Because he’d made mistakes. Because he’d always loved her best.
Because he was a narcissist and she’d been stupid.
“Molly, I don’t have the resources to get through the winter.”
“Get a job.” She ended the call, then scrolled through her menus and blocked his number. There. Problem solved.
She should have done that the second time he’d called for a date. But no. She’d been blinded by his beauty, in awe of the fact that the gorgeous guy who sat next to her in English 405—an athlete, for Pete’s sake—wanted to go out with her. And he’d continued to go out with her. At first she thought he’d wanted help with his studies, but he did all right in his classes without her. That was when she’d given herself a good hard look in the mirror and realized that she really wasn’t that different from other women her age—she only perceived herself as different. As lacking in areas that other woman took for granted. Blake had even seemed charmed by her awkwardness and because of that, it had started to fade.
Her gift from Blake—a jump start to her self-confidence.
If she owed him for anything it was that, but not enough to lend him money. Especially when his behavior at the end of their short marriage had knocked her newfound self-confidence sideways.
She was still getting over a few of the knocks.
Molly pushed the thought aside. She’d moved back to the Eagle Valley because she’d been happy here. There’d been the usual high school traumas—cough, homecoming with Finn,cough—but in general she’d been a happily invisible nerd, with happily invisible nerdy friends. In Eagle Valley she’d found a sense of peace she’d never gotten anywhere else.
And it was a thousand miles away from Blake.
Yet still he called her to make things better.
She walked down the hall to her bedroom, glancing into Georgina’s room as she went by. One wall was stacked high with clear plastic bins that had become the temporary wardrobe solution. One bin sat on the floor next to her bed, which was scattered with the clothes she’d tried on before deciding on the perfect thing to wear for a Friday night out. Being as outgoing as Molly had been shy at the same age, she already had a circle of friends she’d met the first week of classes and had connected with two people she’d known when she’d attended third grade at Eagle Valley Elementary. Molly was in awe. To be born with confidence...what a gift.
But maybe if one had to fight to develop confidence, one appreciated it more.
And maybe they always had that tiny niggling fear that if they didn’t hold on to it with an iron grasp, it might just slip away.
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