Molly

By the time I’ve finished checking everything for Nic and Ethan’s reception, I’m exhausted, but I know my mind is buzzing too much to let me go right to bed when I get to Brayden’s. I’m happy with how the banquet hall turned out with all the tables set for Nic and Ethan’s reception and the decorations in place.

And then there’s Brayden. Brayden, with his dark eyes and searching gazes. Brayden, who wants to be . . . who is my boyfriend.

The word fills me with schoolgirl giddiness as I lock my office door and head out to lock up the kitchen. I’ve never cared that I missed out on that. Sure, now that I’m older, I wish I’d handled things differently when I was a teenager, but though I could see the appeal of someone to call my own, I never actively longed for it outside of a practical standpoint. So many nights I’d pick up Noah from daycare, and we’d get home and my other job was waiting for me. Not the caring for him—no, that never felt like work—but the household stuff. Making dinner, doing dishes, keeping up on laundry, paying bills. There were many nights I wished I had someone to share the burden of running a household. But until Brayden, I never dared wish for more.

I lock the walk-in coolers and freezers, and when I turn to hit the kitchen lights, there’s Brayden, waiting for me in the hall with his arms crossed, that endlessly patient smirk on his face. My chest warms at his presence. He came here for me.

“I thought you were heading home from the bar.” I approach slowly, suddenly feeling shy.

“I played DD for Levi and Ellie, but I thought I’d come for you next.”

“I haven’t been drinking,” I say, smiling. I had a beer with Shay at dinner, but hardly enough to call for a designated driver.

His mouth splits into a grin. Damn. That smile. “I figured.” He leans down and grabs the bottle of champagne and two glasses I hadn’t noticed by his feet. “Shall we remedy that?” Before I can react, he pops the cork and fills the champagne flutes. The bubbles climb toward the rim of the glasses as he hands one to me and takes the other for himself.

“What are we toasting?” I ask quietly.

“Nic and Ethan, of course.”

Clinking my glass to his, I nod. “Of course.”

“He risked getting hurt again for that love.”

I meet his eyes, and my heart aches a little as I see there what so many miss—the tenderness, the desperate need to be enough, the scarred pieces of a man who gave everything to the woman he loved and only got a broken heart in return. “Yes, he did.”

“Here’s to courage,” he says softly, and I know he’s not talking about Ethan and Nic anymore. He’s talking about us. I say a silent prayer that, for him, I can be brave.

I clink my glass against his. “To courage.”

He takes a sip and lowers his glass. “May I see it?”

I know what he means, and a swell of pride fills my chest and makes me smile. I turn toward the banquet hall and crook a finger over my shoulder for him to follow. I hold my breath as I open the door and turn on the lights.

This space has never looked so beautiful, and I couldn’t be happier about how it turned out. The white chair covers are wrapped in red cloth bows, and the crystal centerpieces sit nestled in a nest of red and white roses, sprigs of holly, and pinecones. The artificial arrangements look fresh, and I know I’ll get a ton of use out of them.

My staff spent the afternoon draping tulle across the exposed beams on the ceiling and carefully framing the dancefloor with pots of red poinsettias and stark white hydrangeas. Tomorrow, we’ll light the candles in the centerpieces and turn off the overhead lights for the dimmer, softer light of the wall sconces, but it looks romantic even now, with the moonlight flooding in through the wall of windows at the far end of the space.

“Wow,” Brayden says softly behind me. I hear the awe in his tone before I turn to see it on his face. “I knew your ideas would come together, but this is . . . magnificent.”

I smile. “Nic and Ethan deserve the best.”

He nods, his throat bobbing as he swallows and scans the room again. Is he thinking of the long journey his brother had to take to get here? Of the man’s grief after losing his wife? Of the joy I’m told Nic brought back to his eyes? “They really do.”

“The band will be on the stage,” I say, motioning toward the elevated platform on the dance floor. “And we have bars set up on either side of the room. We have high-top cocktail tables set up around them so people will move toward the dance floor after the meal is over.”

He shakes his head, taking it all in. “No one will ever know this is your first wedding.”

“I wouldn’t be happy with my work if they did.” I scan the space, looking for missed details and finding none. “Thank you.” I turn to him. “For giving me this opportunity.”

He looks into my eyes, but I’m not sure what he’s looking for. “You’re welcome. It’s a shame you did all this work and you’ll be too busy managing the staff to enjoy the party with us.”

I shrug. “I don’t mind.”

“There’s no chance I can talk you into letting someone else take the reins tomorrow, is there?”

I snort and press my hand to his chest. “Hi, Pot, I’m Kettle.”

He grins and grabs my hand before I can pull it away. “If I don’t get to dance with you tomorrow, I’ll just have to do it tonight.”

Before I can protest, he takes my champagne glass and puts it on the floor with his.

He taps the screen of his phone until the opening chords of Prince’s “I Would Die 4 U” fill the room. I laugh, a sound that’s half joy and half disbelief. He remembered.

Grinning, I let him pull me into his arms. I drape my arms around his neck. “You’re crazy. No one slow-dances to this song.”

“Says who?” His gaze drops to my mouth and his smile falls away. “You’ve really never had a boyfriend?”

I shake my head and swallow. “I’m the girl guys take home for some fun, not the one they take home to Mom.”

Something dark passes over his face, but he exhales and it’s gone. “Strange, because my mom thinks you’re the best thing ever.”

My heart squeezes. “Your mom is awesome.”

“Next time one of my siblings gets married, let’s make sure you have a reliable number two who can run things so I can keep you in my arms all night.”

The next time . . . “Who else is engaged?” Levi and Ellie are barely back together, and last I knew, they weren’t rushing things.

He shrugs. “Nobody at the moment, but I’m sure someone will be hitting us up for the family discount in the next year or two.”

I lean my head against his chest to hide my face and swallow hard. Year or two. He still expects me to be around then.

“You okay?” he whispers, so soft I can barely hear him over the music.

I’m afraid to speak, so I just nod. I’m so good.

Brayden

Molly fell asleep on my lap, and I can’t stop staring at her. She mumbles incoherent words for the third time since she drifted off, and I smile. She’s a sleep talker. I shouldn’t be surprised. She always has so much to say, so why should it be any different in sleep?

I turn off the TV—I’ve barely looked at it all night—and brush her blond hair from her face. When we got home, I told her to change into pajamas and meet me out here.

“Is pajamas code for slinky lingerie?” she asked. “Because all of mine’s in storage.”

I recommended flannel pants and a T-shirt, and she laughed like I’d lost my mind. Maybe she doesn’t understand what I see when I look at her. That I was never drawn to her because of her cleavage or flirtatious smiles. She’s beautiful, but beautiful is easy to resist. It’s everything beneath the gloss and curves that made me fall in love.

If we didn’t both have such a big day tomorrow, I probably would have danced with her until sunrise. We’ve danced around what we want for so long, and tonight we both found the courage to say we wanted more. Truthfully, I didn’t want to come home. I’m afraid she’ll wake up tomorrow and panic about our relationship, about what this change means.

Molly shifts in my lap then opens her eyes, stretching her arms over her head. “Shit. I fell asleep.” She rubs her eyes, leaving a streak of mascara across her cheek. “I guess your masterful efforts at seduction failed.”

I laugh. “Who said I was trying to seduce you?”

She pushes up on the couch and shakes her head, yawning. “The champagne, the dancing . . .” She cocks a brow at me. “The snuggling on the couch with your fingers stroking across my stomach?”

I grin. I’ve never smiled as much as I do around her. “Nope. Not a seduction. Just spending time with you.”

She stands and stretches her arms over her head. “If you say so. Good night.”

When she heads toward her bedroom, I follow and catch her before she hits the stairs. I turn her around, trapping her between the wall and my body and putting a hand on either side of her head. “Sleep with me.”

Her gaze drops to my mouth, and she groans. “You’re so painfully tempting, but I’m dead on my feet. I’m afraid I’d fall asleep in the middle and shatter that fragile male ego of yours.”

I laugh. She can hardly keep her eyes open, and she thinks I’m asking for sex. “Not sex. Sleep.” I lower my mouth but give her only the faintest brush of my lips against hers. “I want you in my bed.”

She searches my face for so long that I’m convinced she’s trying to come up with a polite way to refuse me. “Are you real, Brayden Jackson?”

I chuckle and kiss the tip of her nose before sweeping her into my arms. “I could be a dream. Better sleep next to me to make sure I’m still here when you wake up.”