Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
“You weren’t this proud when I got called up to the pros?”
She doesn’t answer.
Molly shifts in her arms.
“Mom. Let her go. I don’t think she can breathe.”
“I’m fine, Hudson,” Molly says, meeting my stare and practically begging me to shut the hell up. “Hi, Mrs. Wilde.”
“I already told you. It’s Mary.” She lets Molly go finally. “I have so many stories to tell you. And pictures to show you. I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.” My mom turns to me, narrowing her eyes. “I thought you’d be bringing a girlfriend home, not a wife. But this will do.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom. Happy to have your approval.”
“Shh, Hudson. Or there will be no death by chocolate for you tonight,” my mom fires back, making Molly laugh.
“What? No. That’s unfair.”
She places her hands on her hips and challenges me to continue.
Molly watches us like a person watching a tennis match, her gaze bouncing back and forth. “Stories, huh?”
Damn. She caught that.
“Only the good ones, okay, Mom?”
“No promises,” she says before giving Molly a once-over. “You’re even prettier than I remember.”
Molly blushes, stammering out a thank-you, and I feel a weird sense of pride swell in my chest.
“You guys go get settled in Hudson’s old room—”
“Mom, it might be better if Molly sleeps in the guest room since I only have a twin bed,” I say. While I’d love to sleep in a bed with Molly, I want her to be comfortable and sharing a twin isn’t ideal.
“Oh, about that…Don’t you remember. I turned the guest room into a craft room.”
I narrow my eyes but don’t say anything.
Since when?
Something tells me this is a new renovation…
One that happened just for us.
As the night winds down and the sun dips lower in the sky, I can’t help but stare at Molly.
She seems so much more relaxed than she did back in Redville.
It’s almost like the whole reporter debacle from earlier today never happened.
She’s laughing at one of my dad’s corny dad jokes, many about the farm, which I bet she doesn’t even understand, but she’s a good spirit about it all.
My mom busies herself clearing the table, swatting away any attempts to help.
“Hudson, grab the death by chocolate pie from the counter.” My mom motions to the kitchen.
“Yes, Mom.” I push back from the table and catch Molly’s eye. She’s already helping stack plates despite my mom’s protests.
She fits in perfectly.
It’s like she’s known them all for years.
I grab the pie, then set it down in front of her.
Mom starts serving everyone a slice.
Molly takes a seat at the table. “That’s . . . um. Too much.” Molly’s eyes are wide.
The piece takes up half the plate. Mom does love to cut the slices very generously.
“Trust me when I say it’s not enough. It’s the best dessert you’ll ever have,” I promise as Molly takes a small bite.
Her eyes widen. “This is incredible.”
“See, Hudson? At least your wife appreciates my baking.” My mom beams.
“I just called it the best pie she’d ever eat, Mom. Jeez.” I raise my hands in surrender. “Get off my case.”
We all eat in silence, other than the groan of appreciation that slips out of my dad’s mouth.
He’s really annoying when he eats Mom’s pies, but I don’t call him out since Molly is here.
After dessert, Molly stands to help clear the plates again.
“Stop helping,” Mom says. “Hudson, take Molly outside.”
I glance at Molly. “I’d like that.” She smiles.
“Come on.” I grab her hand and lead her toward the back door. “We’ll start with the short tour of the property.”
The gravel crunches under our feet as we cross the driveway.
Molly looks around, her gaze lingering on the horizon, where the sky glows in shades of orange and pink.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs.
“This is the best time of day,” I admit. “It’s peaceful.”
“It is.”
We walk toward the fields, the sky darkening as the stars begin to peek out. Molly stops every so often to take in the scenery.
She looks deep in thought, and I wish I could hear her thoughts and know what she’s thinking. Instead, I give her space.
After a few more minutes of walking in silence, I take her right hand in mine and lead her to the large oak tree at the edge of the property.
“This is it,” I say, stopping beneath the tree. “The place from your dream.”
As the words leave my mouth, I thank fuck that none of the boys from the team are here to hear me. I’m laying it on thick with cringe, but the thing is . . . Molly deserves it.
She looks up, her eyes softening as she takes in the wide trunk and the large branches that act as a canopy. “It’s perfect.”
“It’s almost perfect.”
Molly raises an eyebrow, clearly not understanding, but then I reach into my pocket and pull out a small thermos I snagged before we left the house.