“This week’s Yelp review for your bakery is going to bescathing,” the customer called out, wriggling away from Johnathan and approaching the counter once more. “One star for customer service, one star for—”
Molly gave up and left the man to his deserved fate. RIP, fancy mustache.
Before finishing her lunch, she needed to pee. Besides, the man and his facial hair weren’t truly in danger. Karl wasn’t violent. Just very fond of impractical verbal threats.
With a nod at Bez and Charlotte—the former appeared amusedby the ongoing confrontation, the latter resigned—Molly ducked into the work area again. By the time she emerged from the bathroom, all the shouting had stopped, and Charlotte was standing by one of the stainless-steel worktables, shifting from foot to foot.
Her hands twisted near her waist, and she met Molly’s gaze with pained blue eyes.
Why in the world did the young woman seem so nervous and unhappy? Unless—
“Did Karl actually assault that guy?” Holy shit. She’d never, ever have predicted that. “Let me get my bag, and I can cover bail or find a lawyer. Where should I—”
“No. Of course not.” The younger woman’s entire body had stiffened in affront at the very suggestion. “Karl would never hurt anyone.”
Whew. Well, thank goodness.
“That was what I assumed, but when I saw your expression...” Molly stepped toward Charlotte. “Are you okay?”
Charlotte’s pixie cut only emphasized the delicacy of her narrow features, and she wore no makeup. In her tee and jeans, she looked like the teenager she must’ve been not that long ago, vulnerable and heartbreakingly young.
“I don’t...” She paused. Seemed to gather her courage before continuing. “I don’t mean to interfere. I’m sorry if I offend you, but...”
Utterly perplexed, Molly waited for her to gather the right words.
“Karl would never hurt anyone,” she eventually repeated, and met Molly’s eyes directly. “Please don’t hurt him.”
Why in the world would Charlotte worry about that?
Molly shook her head decisively. “I won’t. I couldn’t.”
“You could,” Charlotte insisted, her voice firmer this time. Even though she was entirely wrong, for very obvious reasons.
Molly had seen the man maybe a half-dozen times in two decades, all within the past few days. Yes, he wanted her. Yes, he cared about her good opinion—enough not to act on that wanting until and unless she trusted him. But she couldn’t truly hurt someone who barely knew her. More importantly, she couldn’t truly hurt someone who wouldn’t open himself up enough tobehurt. All that distance he kept between himself and the world, the buffer reinforced by his gruff, vaguely homicidal manner, surely protected him from emotional damage. From her. From anyone.
Unless... that was why he’d donned his armor to start with. Because he was so easily injured. Because he had a heart too big, too fragile, to keep exposed to the world.
Maybe... maybe she’d misjudged him.
She’d concluded that he wouldn’t be willing to change his life in fundamental ways, even for the people he cared about. But wasn’t Charlotte evidence to the contrary?
Her little family could barge into his workspace in the middle of the day, no matter how busy he might be, without worrying about his reaction. A child could vomit down his back, and he’d only sigh in response and rub the kid’s back to comfort her. Even with his horrifying schedule, he made time to babysit Charlotte’s children. In short, he’d changed his life enough that she’d felt it fitting to name her son after him.
Sure, Karl hadn’t been willing to discuss certain important subjects with Molly, but again—they’d only met a handful of times in twenty years. Perhaps, despite his insistence that she trust him, he hadn’t had enough time to trusther.
And if she’d misjudged him, a single question could set her straight.
Molly swallowed hard over a dry throat. “Does Karl talk to you, Charlotte? About personal things? Important things?”
Because if he did, if he shared himself with his surrogate daughter—withanyone—that changed things.
“Well...” Charlotte’s eyes dropped, and her clasped hands started twisting again. “Yes. He’ll talk about my personal, important things. If I bring them up.”
Molly wanted to be absolutely clear about this. “But not his own concerns?”
Silently, the younger woman shook her head.
Ah. So he cared deeply about Charlotte and her family. Probably even loved them. But not enough to share himself.
