Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
“You really think that?” she whispers.
“You’re eighteen,” I say as gently as possible, even though the thought of losing Molly makes me want to carve my insides out.
She bites the inside of her cheek. “Nana and Grandpa were sixteen and twenty when they met. And she said she knew she wanted to marry him even then.”
The corners of my mouth turn up. “I know. He also wanted her to finish college before they got married.”
“I’m going to college.” She picks up the spatula and thrusts it into the enchiladas, scooping two and dropping them on a plate. She dishes out another one, grabs both plates and returns to the table.
I grab the silverware and join her. “That’s all I get?” I wave my fork at my dish. “Two?”
“You can have as many as you want.” She stabs her fork into her food and touches the tip of her tongue to a small amount. “It’s hot,” she cautions.
“You’re hot,” I mutter, digging into my own food.
Her lips quirk but she keeps her gaze focused on her plate.
The food’s so good, for the next few minutes, I just concentrate on shoving it in my mouth, then grab seconds.
“You can take the leftovers to work if you’ve got a microwave there,” Molly says.
“Leftovers?” I snort. “You better grab what you want now before I eat it all.”
“You like it?”
I wave my fork over my almost-clean-again plate. “Ya think?”
She coughs and waves her hand in front of her face. “I might’ve dumped too much Frank’s in it.”
“Never too much hot sauce.” I turn and open the fridge, then pull out a can of seltzer and a can of Coke.
“You keep black cherry seltzer here?” she asks.
I shrug. “I drink it from time to time.” Because it reminds me of her.
She pops the tab and takes a quick sip. “Thanks.”
When we’re finished, we stare at each other for a few beats.
Molly jumps up and grabs the dishes. “I don’t want to leave you with a mess.”
“Stop.” I stand and take the plates. “You brought the food and made it. I’ll take care of this.”
“I’m going to run to the bathroom, then.” She slips her sweatshirt off the back of her chair and shrugs it on.
By the time I finish clearing the table, she still hasn’t returned. I find her in the living room, pacing in front of my couch.
“What’s wrong?”
Her gaze snaps to mine. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you tell me about the show before. Will you tell me now?”
We’ll make it through this. She understands. “Yeah, Muffin. I’ll tell you what I know.”
A brief smile flickers over her lips.
I lead her to the couch, and she drops into the corner, turning her body to face me. Shit, some of this I’m really not supposed to tell anyone. “I had to sign a thing saying I wouldn’t disclose any details, so you can’t talk about it to your friends.”
Her eyes widen for a second, then she nods. “Okay.”
I explain everything I can from the moment Diane found me at Strike Back Studio to the trip I took to the city to sign some papers. I leave out the part about seeing Hope for a will, since I’m still not sure how I feel about it myself.
Molly’s quiet and doesn’t interrupt but she slowly pulls away from me. She crosses her arms over her middle, shrinking herself into a tight ball.
“That’s it,” I finally finish.
“You…did a lot and never said a word about it.” Her brows knit together. “Jerry will be okay with you taking the time off of work?”
“Yeah, he’s kinda psyched I might be on TV.” As I say it, her frown deepens. Fuuuck, he’s another person I told before her. “I had to explain it to him to ask for the time off.”
“Do you know where you’ll be filming?” she asks in a small voice.
“I think it’s a house. Sounds like downstate somewhere. Maybe Long Island? They won’t tell me, yet.”
“And you don’t know who else will be living there with you?”
“Not yet.”
“Are you nervous?”
I stare at her for a few seconds. “Honestly?”
She nods.
I reach over and rest my hand on her ankle. The time for acting cocky and putting on a good front is over. Molly deserves the truth. And she’s probably the only person I can share this with. “Yeah, Muffin. I’m nervous as hell about the whole thing.”
Her tense expression softens. She unfolds her arms and reaches for my hand, linking our fingers together.
“You’re the only person I’ve admitted that to,” I add.
“Remy’s worried about you too.”
I cock my head. “Really? Afraid I’ll get my ass kicked on television and ruin The Castle’s rep?”
“No.” She scowls but shifts closer to me. Her gaze weighs heavily on my skin. “He’s worried the people who run the show will try to fuck with your head. He says that’s what they do.”