Prosecco and Peonies Page 3
Antonio smiled. “Okay, okay. I’ll be quiet … after I tell you that he’s looking forward to seeing you, also.”
She nodded. Her heart was racing—maybe she was going to have a heart attack? It wouldn’t surprise her the way her heart had kept doing that for the last six months. Every time his name came up, every time she thought about him. She was stressing herself out, and she needed to stop it.
Mary Ellen had turned in her seat and was smiling at her. “I’ll change the subject for you, Molly.” She scowled at Antonio. “He needs to learn to let things go. He’s just not very good at knowing when he has to.”
Molly had to smile as Antonio landed a kiss on Mary Ellen’s lips. “But, bella, some things are too important to let go. Molly’s happiness and our babies are not things that should have to wait.”
Chelsea squealed. “Are you two trying for babies!?”
Antonio grinned and nodded his head emphatically.
“Not yet!” Mary Ellen tried to sound firm, but she couldn’t hide her smile.
“He’s right,” said Chelsea. “Why wait?”
Molly gave Mary Ellen a sympathetic smile. “It runs in the family. They don’t get it, do they? They think everything’s straightforward and that it can happen right this minute.”
Mary Ellen nodded. “I hear you. I do want babies.”
Antonio kissed the top of her head. “Lots and lots of babies.”
They all laughed as she pushed him away.
“But I have to get the timing right. I need to figure things out at work and—”
Antonio blew out a big sad sigh. “We must have a predetermined timeline, we must be organized. She must be in control.”
Mary Ellen smiled at him. “You’ve known this since we got together, you can’t start complaining now.”
“It is true. And you have known that I am Sicilian, and I want a big, loud family.”
Chelsea laughed. “So, you want a big, loud family, but you don’t seriously expect Mary Ellen to give up her job and be a stay-at-home mama, do you?”
Molly looked at Mary Ellen. She was laughing, apparently thinking that idea was ridiculous.
Antonio wasn’t laughing, but he was looking at her as he spoke. “No. I’m not stupid. I might hold some traditional values, but I was happy to let them go when they didn’t match my beautiful wife’s ideas.”
Molly turned to look out the window again. She was glad that Antonio thought it natural to put Mary Ellen ahead of his traditional ideas, but it only reinforced the difference between the way he loved Mary Ellen and the way Marcos had loved her.
The conversation moved on; they were talking about baby names and Antonio was joking about wanting ten children. She hoped for Mary Ellen’s sake that he was joking. Every now and then he’d catch her eye. She wondered what it was that he wanted to say but wouldn’t in front of the others. Mary Ellen didn’t know all of her history with Marcos. Chelsea did but seemed oblivious to how deeply she’d been hurt.
Grant leaned over from his seat across the aisle. He’d taken that seat so he could get some work done—even though Molly would have preferred he sat with Chelsea so she wouldn’t have been part of all the chatter.
“What are the plans when we get there?” he asked.
“Smoke has organized a minibus to pick us up at the airport and take us to the resort. We have this afternoon to get settled, and then we’re all meeting up for dinner this evening,” said Antonio.
Molly liked the idea of having the afternoon to get settled in. To her, that meant having the afternoon to herself. She loved these guys, but she needed some alone time before she faced Marcos again.
“And we’re staying at the new resort, right?” asked Chelsea. “Where the wedding is.”
Mary Ellen nodded. “Yep. It was tight. They had another large group booking this weekend, but I got us a block of rooms with enough for everyone.”
“Is that okay with you?” Antonio was looking at Molly.
She realized her disappointment must have shown. She’d only been to the lake once before, but they’d spent the night at the old resort. She loved it there. “Of course. Will we be going over to the Boathouse? I loved the food there.”
Mary Ellen nodded. “We will. Tonight, we’re all meeting up at the lodge where we’re staying, and tomorrow night is the rehearsal dinner, but we can go over there for lunch tomorrow.”
Molly nodded. Maybe it was just her nervousness about seeing Marcos again, but this weekend wasn’t sounding like a whole lot of fun. Being herded around in a group really wasn’t her thing.
Chelsea smiled at her. “I know you, missy. You’re wondering when you can wander off by yourself, aren’t you?”
She shrugged, not wanting to admit that she didn’t relish the prospect of spending every waking minute with them.
Mary Ellen smiled. “It’s all flexible. You can do as you please. My arrangements are only so everyone has something to do if they want it. If you don’t want, that’s fine by me.” She held Molly’s gaze for a moment. “You do whatever you want to do. I’ll email you the schedule of everything that’s planned, and you pick and choose. You don’t even have to go to the rehearsal dinner if you don’t want to.”
Molly felt bad. “I’m not saying I don’t want to hang with you guys.”
“I know. All I’m saying is you do what you want to … and don’t do what you don’t.”
“Thanks.”
When they landed at the little airport at Summer Lake, Molly looked around as she made her way down the steps. She loved this place. If she was honest, she loved this life. She could get used to flying around in a private jet, taking the weekend off to spend with her friends.
Smoke greeted them inside the building. She’d always liked Chelsea’s eldest brother. He greeted her with a warm hug—which took her by surprise since it wasn’t normally his style. She stepped back and gave him a puzzled look.
“I’m glad you’re here, Molly.”
Oh. Smoke and Marcos had been close when they were in high school. She had to wonder what—if anything—Marcos might have said to him about her.
“Are you okay?”
She held Smoke’s gaze for a moment longer. “I don’t know. I want to be, but I’m not sure that I am.”
He smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. “I hope you will be, and I know someone else who hopes you will, too.”
She nodded. She didn’t know what to say.
~ ~ ~
Marcos sat at the bar inside the Boathouse. It was a beautiful day outside, but the brightness and the sunshine felt like hope and happiness, and he didn’t know if he dared allow himself that.
“Can you cheer your face up?”
He couldn’t help but smile. Kenzie, the bartender, was quite a character.
“There, that’s better. What are you looking so down about anyway? I thought all your people were arriving this afternoon. Shouldn’t you be all happy and eager to see them?”
“I am.”
She laughed. “If that’s your happy face, I’d hate to see you pissed off. What can I get you?”
“Just an orange juice.”
She came back and set his drink down in front of him. “I thought you Italians were supposed to drink wine all the time.”
“We are. I don’t always do what I’m supposed to, though.”
She smiled. “Good man. What are you going to do about this Molly?”
Marcos put down the glass that had been halfway to his lips and stared at her.
“Sorry, sugar, but working here, I get to know everything. I’ve done polite conversation with you for the last few weeks, but now the time’s here, I need to know that you’re not going to fuck it up.”
Marcos continued to stare at her. Part of him wanted to get up and walk away; part of him wanted to tell her it was none of her damned business, but the part of him that won out was the part that was scared he was going to fuck up all ov
er again and wanted any help he could get.
He blew out a big sigh. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I need to talk to her. I need to explain why I did what I did. I need to tell her how wrong I was and how much I’ve regretted it every day since.”
Kenzie curled her lip. She looked as though he was something that smelled bad.
“What?”
“I get that you’re all remorseful and everything, and I don’t know this Molly chick, but can I make a suggestion?”
He nodded, wondering what she might have to say. He was hardly going to take her advice seriously, was he? She was a bartender. He liked her well enough, but she was hardly his kind of person.
She leaned on the bar and looked him in the eye. “Sugar. You’re all focused on hitting her with the past and with everything that you did wrong—”
“Because that’s what I need—”
One raised eyebrow was enough to make him shut his mouth.
“Exactly. If you’re going to focus on what you need and what you want, what’s that doing for her?”
He shrugged.
“You haven’t been with this chick for what, ten years, more? You hurt her—did a number on her, by the sounds of it. Don’t you think you might be better off showing her how good it could be—now and in the future? Why rub her nose in what happened and in all the hurt? She knows all about that. What she doesn’t know is who you are now and how good the two of you can be together. Why not give her a taste of that before you drag her down some shitty memory lane? Let her know how being with you now could be—and make it good. Wow her, romance her, give her the best sex she’s ever had.”
Marcos turned as someone sat down on the stool beside him. It was Kenzie’s husband, Chase. She leaned across the bar and planted a kiss on his lips.
“How did the two of you get together?” asked Marcos.
Chase smiled. “She was stuck in a painful past when we met, and I convinced her that we could have a great future.”
Kenzie smiled at Marcos, and he had to smile back.
“So, it worked for you?”
She chuckled. “Hell, yeah.”
“What did?” asked Chase.
“I was just telling Marcos that when he sees his ex, he should show her how good they could be together now. He thinks he should start off by rehashing the past and everything he did wrong.”
“Not rehashing so much as explaining and apologizing.” Marcos had felt uncomfortable enough that Kenzie knew his business and was offering advice. He hoped her husband wasn’t going to wade in.
Chase met his gaze.
Marcos blew out a sigh. “I’m a very private person. This is excruciating for me. But, yes, go on, say whatever it is you’re thinking.”
Chase held up a hand. “Hey. I don’t want to stick my nose in where it’s not wanted.” He winked at Kenzie. “My wife does enough of that for the both of us.”
Marcos chuckled. “No. You have to tell me what you think now. She cracked me open. I’m willing to hear it all.”
Kenzie chuckled. “It’s not all my fault. There’s something in the air here that makes people change—open up.”
Chase nodded. “And if you do want to know what I think … I’d say Kenzie’s right. Sure, you need to explain yourself, and you need to apologize for whatever you did.”
Kenzie fixed Marcos with a hard stare, but he shook his head. He appreciated their attempts to help, but he wasn’t about to tell them what he’d done back then—just how stupid he’d been.
“But,” continued Chase, “if you want to stand a chance of another shot with her, then you’re going to have to make her want it. Don’t keep her focused on how bad things were or how much you hurt her—I mean, yeah, you need to own it and tell her you’re sorry—but don’t stay there. Do something fun with her. Show her how good you can be together now and show her how great her future could be with you. Make her want to be with the man you’ve become and help her forget the boy who hurt her.”
Marcos nodded. It made sense. “Thanks.”
Chase shrugged. “I hope it helps. And if there’s anything more practical we can do to help, just tell us.”
Marcos couldn’t help but smile. They were so kind. He wasn’t used to that. He’d barely known them a few weeks. They were friends of his friends, but they cared, and they wanted to help. He nodded, but he didn’t trust himself to speak. There was a lump in his throat that he could only put down to this being an emotional time. He was on the verge of getting his second and last chance with Molly. He was bound to feel a little emotional. Still, he wouldn’t just tear up at the kindness of strangers. That wasn’t who he was.
Kenzie laughed. “If I could make one last suggestion, it’d be to take the stick out of your ass and relax! You’re amongst friends here. We’ve got your back.”
He had to swallow. It was ridiculous, but he could feel tears pricking behind his eyes. What the hell was going on with him?
Chase grasped his shoulder. “She’s right. Relax. And let your feelings show if you want to. You’ve got a built-in excuse—you’re Italian, you’re supposed to be passionate.”
Marcos smiled and nodded as a single tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. Maybe Chase was right; maybe it was time for him to finally allow himself to feel again. He’d let what he thought was logic steer him away from Molly when they were kids. That hadn’t turned out so well. Maybe it was finally time to listen to his heart—and at least admit he had one—and it was a soft one, even if he didn’t wear it on his sleeve.
“Thank you, thank you both. I appreciate it more than you know.” He looked at his orange juice. He didn’t want it. He wanted to go back to the house, spend some time getting his head together before he saw her. Antonio had texted him to say that they’d landed and were heading over to the lodge at Four Mile Creek. He had to decide if he wanted to go over there to join them all for dinner tonight or if he should wait until tomorrow and seek Molly out by herself.
Kenzie smiled at him. “You look like you’re ready to get out of here; you need to wrap your head around it all, don’t you?”
“I do. What do I owe you?”
“Nothing. It’s on me.”
He smiled at her and then at Chase. “Thanks. You two are the best.”
Kenzie nodded. “We do our best. I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed for you.”
“Thanks.”
When he stepped out of the bar and back into the bright sunshine, a feeling of hope washed over him. Maybe he could make it right with Molly. Molly? It was. It was her. She was walking up the steps to the reception area—with Smoke, who was carrying her bag. He hurried after them and then stopped. What was he going to say? He wasn’t ready.
When they reached the top of the steps, Smoke held the door open and let Molly go in ahead of him. Before he followed her, he turned and spotted Marcos and waved a hand at him gesturing for him to come
Marcos froze. Now he had to go up there. Ready or not. He sucked in a deep breath, then slowly blew it out as he made his way up the steps.
Smoke greeted him with a grim smile and handed him Molly’s bag. “Here’s your chance.”
Marcos stuffed down the panic that was threatening to rise in his chest. “What do I say?”
Smoke shook his head. “That’s up to you. You’ve had twelve years to think about it. I’m not going to come up with anything in the next few seconds. Get after her before you have a chance to overthink it.”
Marcos hesitated.
“This is me gone.” Smoke grinned and trotted back down the steps.
Marcos stepped through the door at the same time that Molly turned around—no doubt wondering what had happened to Smoke.
Her eyes widened when she saw him. She shook her head as if in disbelief.
He couldn’t believe they were face to face again either, but he wasn’t going to be foolish enough to waste the opportunity.
Chapter Three
He smiled.
Her insides melted, and she closed her eyes for a moment as a warm rush of happiness bubbled up inside her. He was still there when she opened them, so perhaps it was time to say something. “Marcos.”
“Molly.”
“What are you doing here?”
He smiled again, making it hard to focus on his words. “I have something that belongs to you.”
She bit her bottom lip. Did he mean her heart? He couldn’t know that he still owned it, could he?
He held up her bag.
“Oh.” She let out a little laugh—at her own stupidity more than anything. “Thanks.” She stepped toward him to take it, but he held it away from her.
“I can bring it if you want? I assume you’re checking in, though I don’t understand why.”
“I am. There weren’t enough rooms over at Four Mile Creek, so I volunteered to come and stay over here.”
“Why?” He looked so hopeful.
“We came here a few weeks ago, and I love it. This is much more my style than the fancy new lodge.”
“You haven’t changed, then?”
She shook her head, trying not to remember all the weekends they’d spent in cottages and cabins when they were together—all of them quaint and quirky to suit her taste. She looked over at the reception desk where a girl was sitting watching them. At least she had the good grace to turn away.
“Come on, then.” She made her way to the desk. Whatever they were going to do from here, she needed to get checked in first.
She struggled to focus while the girl took her information and apologized for the overbooking at the new lodge. She was acutely aware of Marcos standing just a few feet away from her. He looked different—in a good way. When she’d seen him at Antonio and Mary Ellen’s wedding, he’d looked older, tense and stressed—understandably so, given his circumstances at the time. It seemed the last six months had been good to him. He was nervous, there was no disguising that, but she knew that was down to her. He had a different air to him. Maybe she just hadn’t had time to notice it at the wedding. Maybe this was the man he’d become. Anyone walking in here, she was sure, wouldn’t notice any nervousness. They’d just see a handsome, obviously wealthy, man who was at home in his own skin.