Not Pretending Anymore, Ward, Penelope [books that read to you TXT] 📗

she got home. I didn’t want her rushing back and taking time away from her dad.

Declan: No, all good. Enjoy your time with your father.

An hour later, I was zipping my last suitcase closed when I heard the front door open. I’d meant to go out into the living room and greet her so we could talk before she noticed all my luggage, but she came to my room before I could finish.

“Hey, what do you say we…” Molly’s voice trailed off, and her brow furrowed as she took in the suitcases on my bed. “You’re packed already?”

“Yeah.”

She walked over to an open, empty dresser drawer and shut it before opening the one underneath.

Empty.

She quietly shut it and moved on to the one underneath that.

Again empty.

“What’s going on, Declan? You didn’t leave any clothes out.”

She’d asked the question, but her face told me she already knew the answer.

I sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to me. “Come sit.”

During the months I’d lived here, there were probably half-a-dozen times I should’ve lied to her—like when I’d admitted Julia and I had fooled around, or better yet, when I’d told her I had feelings for her. But I’d been mostly honest. So the bullshit words I spoke now tasted extra sour coming out of my mouth.

“There’s been a change in plans. The guy working with our Wisconsin client had an emergency. So my boss told me I need to be there sooner.”

Molly looked panicked. “When?”

I swallowed. “Tonight. I’m booked on the last flight out of O’Hare. It leaves a few minutes before eleven.”

“But…but…that means you have to leave for the airport by, like, eight thirty?”

“Eight fifteen, actually. I have a car coming for me.”

“Oh my God, Declan. No! That’s too soon. We didn’t get to spend any time together.”

I looked down and nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Molly looked at her watch. “Why didn’t you call me or text me earlier? I would have come home instead of going to see my dad tonight.”

“Your time with your dad is important. I didn’t want you to rush.”

“But my time with you is important, too.” She reached over and took my hand. It felt so damn right, which made what I was doing even harder.

I cleared my throat. “Come on. Why don’t we go out to the kitchen? I made you dinner and have water boiling. Let me feed you one more time before I have to go.”

Molly and I were both quiet as I led her out of my bedroom. I’d changed my plans from making appetizers to making fresh gnocchi, so they only needed to boil for three to four minutes. The water was already simmering, so I turned it up to a boil before starting to heat the cream sauce.

“It’ll only take five minutes. I picked up some of the wine you like. You want a glass?”

Molly sat down at the table. Her face was glum, but she nodded and attempted a smile, though she failed miserably.

“Here you go.” I set a glass of her favorite white in front of her.

The mood in the room was somber as I pulled together dinner. I made two plates and placed them on the table.

“Eat up,” I tried to joke. “This could be your last good meal for a while now that you’ll be cooking for yourself.”

Molly pushed the pasta around with her fork. Finally, she looked up at me. “What were you going to do if I didn’t get home?”

“What do you mean?”

“I told you I’d be home around seven thirty. But what if my train got stuck or something? Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?”

I hadn’t poured myself any wine, but I changed my mind now and filled a glass. “I don’t know. But you made it home. So it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Molly surprised me by raising her voice. “Yes. It does freaking matter!”

I put my hands up. “Okay…okay. I guess I would’ve called you to say goodbye then?”

She shook her head. “Really? After the last few months you would have just walked out the door—without even saying goodbye to me in person?”

I dragged a hand through my hair and shook my head. “I don’t know, Molly. It didn’t happen like that, so I can’t really be sure what I would’ve done.”

Molly pushed her chair back, the bottom of it scraping against the tile as she stood. “Yes, we can be sure. Because you just told me you would’ve left without saying goodbye!” She turned and marched off toward her room.

“Where are you going?”

“To be alone. Since you don’t care if you say goodbye to me in person, we don’t need to spend this time together.”

“Molly, wait!”

Her response was a door slam—so hard it made the walls in the living room shake. I closed my eyes. Fuck.

I sat in the kitchen for a few minutes. But then I caught the time on the microwave and a wave of panic hit me. Nineteen minutes. I had nineteen goddamned minutes left with Molly, and whether she was pissed off or not, there was no way in hell I was going to spend them alone. So I walked to her bedroom, knocked gently, and waited.

No answer.

So I knocked a second time and creaked open the door. “Moll—”

“Go away.”

The hurt in her voice was palpable.

“I’m coming in.”

I gave her ten seconds to stop me, but when she didn’t, I opened the door the rest of the way.

Fuck. She was crying.

I shut my eyes and swallowed before walking over to the bed and sitting beside her.

“Molly, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just…I have no idea how to do this. I don’t know how to say goodbye to you. These last few months you’ve become such an important part of my life.”

Her shoulders began to shake a few seconds before the sound came.

“Come here…” I turned her and wrapped her in my arms. Stroking her hair, I spoke softly. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Please don’t