Page 51 of Molly
“You’re not my doctor.”
No, I wasn’t. And good thing, because a doctor should never be having thoughts about his patients like I was having about Molly. Even sick she was beautiful—fire in her eyes and a rosy hue to her flawless skin. A need to feel the softness of her, the revitalizing strength she seemed to possess, overcame me. I wished I hadn’t found the thermometer so I could press my lips to her forehead in a ruse to feel for a fever the way my mother had done with me as a child. But the yearning fanning the heat in my middle bore no resemblance to parental affection and every likeness to that of a man longing for a woman.
“I don’t want you to get into trouble,” Molly said.
Trouble? Would it be trouble to finally give in to the hunger that caused my belly to ache when I looked at her? I tried to recall the reasons I’d given Drew as to why I couldn’t pursue a relationship with this woman, but I came up blank. All I could remember was how right it had felt to have her lips pressed against mine and how much I wanted her back in my arms.
“What about my mother?”
My insides shuddered as though they’d just been doused in cold water. “Your mother?”
She nodded. “Would you be more comfortable if I called my mom and asked her to come over? She could take care of me, although I don’t need it, and Chloe as well, since you think I’m not capable in my current state.”
Molly swayed, and I reached out to catch ahold of her arm to steady her. I pinned her with a look. “I’m not saying another word until you lie down.”
She huffed but lowered herself back to the couch. I tucked the blanket around her, my fingers twitching to stroke her silky hair. Instead, I curled each digit into my palm.
“Happy?” Sarcasm laced her question.
Hardly. Not with her inches away. So close but still so far out of reach.
I glanced over at Chloe playing contentedly by herself with a few stuffed animals. The doctor had turned veterinarian as she gave each cotton-filled pet a check-up. We were a packaged deal, her and I. She would be a factor in every decision I made, and that included any romantic relationship I might one day open my heart to.
Did Molly realize that?
I was a father. I didn’t have the luxury to just “see where things go.” I had to have the finish line in sight before I even toed the starting line. There had to be some sort of commitment from the onset, a safety net, before I’d jump with Chloe beside me.
And to know all that, I’d need to have that conversation with Molly that I’d been putting off since that much-too-short kiss in my kitchen (which has since become my favorite room of the house).
“I’m not sure asking your mother is the best solution.” Selfishly, I wanted to take care of her. And if I didn’t head to the hospital, maybe we would have time to talk.
“If you’re worried about her catching whatever it is I have, don’t worry. She gets a flu shot every year with Dad.”
Logic said her idea made sense. “I don’t know.”
She laid a hand on my arm. My skin beneath her palm recognized her touch. With that single motion she seemed to be sayinglet me help.You’re not alone. She’d touched me this way before. The first time had been in the hospital when she’d brought me my lunch. I’d been too distracted with all the stress to see her as clearly then as I saw her now.
“Benji.”
She said my full name, and for some reason I didn’t hate it on her tongue. It sounded almost…intimate coming from her. All my resolve fled me. “Okay.”
Lydia Osbourne arrived thirty minutes later like a whirlwind. Her knock on the door sounded loud and firm, and when I opened it, she strode in with the resoluteness of a general taking over command at the front lines.
The glimpse I got as she blew past me was of a replica of Molly, only a couple of decades older. Same light complexion and strong set of the jaw but with light crow’s feet lines around her eyes. However, where Molly was softened by her approachability and gentle spirit, her mother appeared rigid with a take charge kind of attitude.
“Chloe, I’d like you to meet my mom, Mrs. Osbourne,” Molly introduced.
Chloe shook Lydia’s hand, then turned to Molly. “I thought you were royalty like me.”
I imagined Lydia’s curious expression mirrored my own as we both looked at Molly, whose cheeks were darkening even beyond that of a feverish flush. “She’s talking about Princes William and Harry and how they, uh, also lost their mother and were raised by a single father.”
So she’d realized she wasn’t the only one in the world without a mom. Chloe rarely brought up Laura. She’d had a picture of her on her chest of drawers, but it had kept getting knocked over, so we’d put it in Chloe’s box of treasures. I should’ve brought the photo out more often. Talked about Laura with Chloe to keep her memory alive. Let my baby girl know she was doubly loved and fill up any hole not having a mother had left in her life.
Molly smoothed a hand over Chloe’s hair. “Not everyone can be a princess like you.”
That seemed to satisfy Chloe, and she resumed her place among her stuffed animals.
Lydia set a pair of canvas bags on the kitchen island. “I’m going to make some chicken soup.”
