Brayden, Melissa - How Sweet It Is

Once Jordan collapsed back onto the bed, Molly crawled up beside her and traced the outline of her jaw softly. “Hey, you,” she said quietly after a few moments.

“Hey, yourself.”

“That was incomparable.”

Jordan turned onto her side so she faced Molly more fully. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

Molly laughed. “Me neither. We’re crazy.”

“I think I love being crazy.” Jordan began to absently play with her hair. It was soothing, and she lowered her head onto Jordan’s shoulder and settled in. She could easily fall asleep to this.

“What made you stop by and, you know, throw things at my window?”

“I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, us, earlier.” It was nice to hear she hadn’t been alone.

“The funhouse,” Molly said.

“The funhouse,” she agreed. “I’ll never look at one of those things the same way again.”

Molly absently traced a pattern on Jordan’s stomach and squinted to better make out the numbers on the digital clock next to her bed. “Geez, it’s late.”

“Should I go?”

It was an important question.

They hadn’t established anything. Discussed what it was that they were doing. It had been all action with very little logic. But regardless of what the future did or did not hold for them, when she looked at Jordan, Molly felt genuine affection. They had a history. They were friends. Friends who were apparently more than a little compatible in bed, which brought up a lot of questions. “No, you’re welcome to stay. I just made the comment because I have to be up at four thirty. Baker’s lot in life and all.”

Jordan looked at her skeptically. She sensed Molly’s unease. That much was clear. “You know what? It’s probably better that I’m not missing in action when morning rolls around at Tuscana headquarters. Fewer questions, you know.”

But in actuality, she wouldn’t be missed. They both knew the doctors would be too focused on their morning rituals and getting the clinic up and running to check in on Jordan. It had always been that way. They were loving parents, just not always hands on.

“Jordan, you don’t have to—” But Jordan was already up and gathering her clothes one piece at a time. Molly pulled on a robe and followed her silently down the stairs. She waited patiently in the darkened entryway as Jordan pulled on her shirt.

A space had opened up between them. The mood had shifted.

It wasn’t carefree and fun, the way it had been just minutes before. The air was full of uncertainty, protocol, doubt.

From the doorway, Jordan held Molly’s gaze for several seconds before she said anything. “Tell me we’re not going to pretend this never happened.” She stared skyward as she continued. “Because I don’t think I could handle that.”

She looked so entirely vulnerable that Molly closed the distance between them. She lifted a hand to Jordan’s cheek, stroking it with her thumb. It was meant to convey how much she cared and that what they’d just shared mattered to her. “You know, I don’t think that would be possible even if I tried.” She brushed Jordan’s lips with hers. “Sweet dreams.”

Jordan nodded solemnly and headed off down the sidewalk.

Molly went back inside and sat at her kitchen table, alone with her thoughts. And there seemed to be a lot of them. Her mind became very active, and with lust out of the way, the volume of what she’d just done hit home with staggering candor.

It had been good between them that night, more than that even. But what would this mean for their already established relationship? And where exactly was it that they were heading? Because quite honestly, she didn’t know. She reminded herself of the bottom line here.

Jordan lived in Chicago.

She was just a kid.

And she was Cassie’s sister , she told herself for the five hundredth time. The facts were against her, no matter how much fun she’d had or how wonderful Jordan felt beneath her touch.

Her thoughts drifted more fully to Cassie, which unleashed so much more on her already delicate psyche. As she sat there, flashes of their life together played across her mind like the images in a film. She saw Cassie’s smile, which radiated, heard her laugh. She relived the first moment she fell in love with Cassie, after the Homecoming football game their sophomore year. The quiet nights they’d spent watching their favorite TV shows together. Popping popcorn for Cubs games. All of it.

Their life together had been everything to Molly. Tears sprang into her eyes right before the first sob tore from her throat. She covered her mouth, but they continued to wrack her body. Relentless.

The guilt, the overwhelming guilt at what she had done, was simply too much.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the air around her. But this time, it felt like there was no one there to forgive her.

Chapter Sixteen

When Jordan woke the next morning, nothing felt the same.

And really how could it? The night before was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, and she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face if she’d tried.

As she showered, she recalled each moment she and Molly shared in explicit detail. She couldn’t get past how well they’d fit together. Then there was how hot it had been. But that wasn’t even the best part. With Molly, she’d felt excited and secure all at the same time. It was the most wonderful combination, and she knew it was because they had their friendship, their history to build on.

They still did.

But there’d been a lot unsaid, and it concerned her.

She’d left when she did because she could tell that would make Molly the most comfortable. If there was even a chance of anything between them, and she knew it was slim, it was going to have to be in small steps. She could do small steps. She’d welcome any kind of step where Molly was concerned because she mattered too much to screw this up.

And while there was nothing she wanted more in life than to pick up the phone and call Molly, or even one better, take a little morning trip to the bakeshop, the Molly she knew would require space. Time to process the new level of intimacy between them. And she could give her that. She’d give her whatever she needed.

She studied herself in the mirror, deciding to leave her hair down today. She applied a tad bit of cranberry lip gloss and grabbed her messenger bag. She was due at the clinic for her volunteer shift in ten minutes. She swung open the door and—“Whoa.”

“Hey there, sexy kitten.” George grinned at her like the Cheshire cat he imitated on a regular basis. Her mind scrambled, because he was supposed to be in LA. It was just like him to show up unannounced on the doorstep of her childhood home, but damn it, he was a sight for sore eyes so she hugged him anyway.

“What in the world are you doing here?” she asked as she squeezed him tight.

“I missed you. Plus, you told me I was welcome anytime. It was a lie? You lied to me? What kind of best friend are you?” He feigned shock. Always the drama queen.

“I didn’t lie. You’re welcome here.”

He placed his hand over his heart. “I should hope.”

“Wait, what about my cat? You’re supposed to be taking care of Francis Ford Coppola until I get back.” She took her cat most everywhere with her, but with her dad’s allergies, she’d had to set up a caretaker for the trip.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s so pretentious when you call him that.”

“Fine. Frankie. Where’s Frankie, George?”

“Your next-door neighbor agreed to feed him. I left him the key to your apartment. I hope that’s okay.”

“Seriously? Paul? That guy’s had his eye on my place ever since he moved in. He’s probably taking measurements as he plans my accidental drowning.” She locked the door behind them.