Brayden, Melissa: How Sweet It Is

“I’m a work in progress. This is not news to me.”

“And thus, you’re here. To regain your bearings, to steady the ship—”

“To spend time with the people who are important to me,” she said seriously and inclined her head to Molly as an example of that. “Whom I never should have stayed away from for so long.” She hesitated before pressing forward because it was a delicate subject matter for both of them. “When her plane went down…I didn’t know how to be here anymore. Nothing felt right.” Molly nodded solemnly, her eyes a little haunted at the topic shift. “I think it was a way to cope with losing my sister, but in hindsight, it was so incredibly selfish of me that I can’t stand myself for it. I mean, my parents, you.”

Molly got up and moved toward her. “Don’t do that. Everyone deals with grief differently. I stopped eating for eight months. Your brother felt the need to fix every broken appliance in a twenty-mile radius. And the town erected a commemorative plaque. So you took some time away from us all, I don’t think anyone holds it against you. I, for one, don’t. There’s no manual for dealing with loss, and we all had to find our own way through it. But you know what? You’re here now and it’s pretty great. Why don’t we leave it at that?”

The sentiment alone, the fact that Molly understood, infused her with such gratitude, such relief that it was all she could do to nod mutely and fight the damn lump in her throat. They stood in silence for several moments, each lost in thought. Finally, Molly looked at her tentatively as if trying to make a decision. “Can I tell you something?”

Jordan tilted her head. “You can tell me anything.”

“I’ve decided to start dating again.” She ran a nervous hand through her hair. “What do you think about that? And you can be totally honest. Even if it’s to tell me I’m insane.”

Jordan paused with the information before offering Molly her most encouraging smile. “I think that’s great, Mol. Sincerely.”

“You do? You’re not just trying to make me feel okay about it? Because the prospect of telling your parents is more than I can process at this point, and it was one thing in theory, but now that the day is here, I’m having all kinds of doubts and thinking maybe I should just call her and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down, tiger.” Jordan grabbed Molly by the shoulders and steered her back to the steps where she sat them both down. “First of all, breathe. That would be step one.”

Molly took a deep inhale. Probably more than she actually needed which was endearing.

“You good?”

She nodded. “Better.”

“Then let’s back up a little bit. When is this date you speak of?”

“Tonight. Eden’s friend set it up. I work with Eden at Flour Child. I don’t think you’ve met her yet. She’s pretty wonderful. And Southern. Totally Southern. I’ll introduce you.”

“I can’t even wait. Stop stalling.”

“You’re good.” A pause. “So…I’m supposed to meet this woman .”

“Your date.”

“Right, my date, for dinner tonight. She sounds incredibly accomplished, put together, and from what Eden says, attractive, so I’m pretty sure she’s going to hate me.”

“Because you’re the opposite of all of those things.”

Molly narrowed her gaze. “I see what you did there. Very slick.”

Jordan took Molly’s hand. “Just try and have a good time. Keep it simple. You never know.”

Molly seemed to mull things over. “When did you become the smart one between us?”

“Can I have that in writing?”

Molly briefly considered this. “Definitely not.”

She headed inside and Jordan spent the next hour gathering the supplies she needed from her parents’ garage a few blocks down and set to work power washing, then sanding down the shutters to remove any chipped paint. She was losing light and contemplated calling it a day when Molly emerged from the house once again, and the image sucked all the air from her lungs. Molly stood there in a simple midnight blue cocktail dress, nervously clutching a handbag. Her hair was partially clipped back and the rest shimmered loosely down her back. She wore subtle heels and a small solitaire necklace. She looked, in a word, beautiful. No. More than that. As Jordan stared, time seemed to stand still, which was strange, and at the same time ridiculous, because when did time ever stand still?

*

Jordan was staring at her oddly, which made Molly start to doubt the evening all over again. Clearly, the dress was all wrong, and who was she kidding? She was trying too hard. She wanted to turn back around and call the whole thing off, but that would be rude and she hated to be rude. “Is it too much? You should just tell me if it is. Say it. Say it’s too much.” Damn it all. Why was she so nervous?

Jordan set the sander on the ground, the odd expression morphing into a puzzled one. But she still hadn’t said anything because she was probably working on a really crafty arrangement of words that wouldn’t hurt her feelings. “It’s not too much.”

Molly narrowed her gaze. “Don’t humor me. These are desperate times.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. It’s a great dress. Trust me, Molly. I vote yes.”

“What if she goes for casual? Then I’ll look ridiculous in comparison.”

“Valid concern. Where are you having dinner?”

“The Lodge in Andersville, one town over.”

Jordan whistled low. “That’s a five-star restaurant. Jeans wouldn’t exactly cut it. Trust me, you’re good.”

Molly exhaled, feeling somewhat better and for the first time since coming outside, took in the scene in her front yard. Supplies were scattered across the lawn, her now naked shutters were laid out in a smart little row, already undergoing surgery. In response to the temperature, Jordan had pulled her dark hair into a ponytail and stripped down to just a tank top, a hint of perspiration dotted her chest. Molly shook her head slowly, taking her in. “You look like you should be in a calendar right now. A sexy one. I’d hate to see this go to waste. Should I take a photo for your Facebook page and your adoring fans?”

“If you do, I’d have to kill you. Besides, I was going for sweet and unassuming. Is there a calendar like that?”

“Oh, unassuming is not a word I would use to describe you, Jordy.” Her eyes widened in realization. “But you do look thirsty, and damn it, I made you lemonade. Forgotten lemonade. I’m a bad person. Hold that thought.”

“I was hoping you’d find a way to reward me,” Jordan called after her happily.

Molly raced back into the house and poured a full glass of her homemade lemonade, added a handful of ice cubes and topped it off with a fresh strawberry from her garden in back. She raced back outside and presented the glass to Jordan, who was now waiting on the front porch and dabbing the back of her neck with a bandana. “Voila. All is now right with the world.”

“You are an angel. Thank you.” Jordan took three generous swallows of the lemonade before staring longingly at the glass, mystified. “Are you kidding me? Did you make this too?”

“Guilty. It’s not like I’m going to serve instant.”

“You’re like Martha Stewart on crack; you realize this, don’t you?”

Molly placed her hand over her heart. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Continue to regale me with your confectionary genius and you might find yourself surprised at some of the things that’ll come out of my mouth.”

“Such a tease.” Molly checked her watch. “I hate to cut our time short, but I have to leave you here and go on an honest to goodness date. Is that okay?”