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Molly kept feeding her tiny bites, and was still feeding her by the time I’d completely cleared my plate. I fucking loved my mom’s pot roast. It was my favorite—probably the reason she’d made it.
“Baby, you gotta eat, too,” I reminded Molly as she put another piece of meat in Reb’s mouth.
“I’ll just eat when she’s done,” Molly replied with a smile.
“Food’s gonna be cold.”
“It’s okay, I’m used to it.”
She was smiling about it—but it bugged the hell out of me.
“Here, I’ll take her,” I said, reaching for the baby.
I stuck my hands in her armpits and lifted.
“I don’t know if she’ll go to you,” Molly warned as I pulled Rebel onto my lap.
“She’s fine,” I replied as Reb reached up and patted my beard. “Now eat.”
“Reb still has to eat,” Molly argued, lifting another bite to Rebel’s mouth.
“I’ll feed her. You eat.” I took the fork off my plate and speared a carrot that Molly had already cut up, waiting for Rebel to finish chewing before I gave her another bite.
“See? Eat,” I ordered.
“Will says you’re a nurse, Molly?” my dad said, interrupting our conversation.
Molly’s entire body tensed. “Yes, at the hospital.”
“You like it?”
She nodded. “Yes, I do.”
“Eat, baby,” I reminded her softly, just as she was setting her fork down. She picked it back up, glancing at me then back to my dad.
“What kind of nursing do you do?” my mom asked. “I always thought it would be cool to work in the maternity ward.”
“Labor and Delivery is fun,” Molly answered, relaxing slightly. “I work all over the hospital, but I don’t get up there very often.”
“You were Will’s—” Tommy started to say.
“Not discussing that tonight,” my dad interrupted with a pointed glance at Rose and Lily.
“Molly’s best friend is seein’ Rocky,” I told my parents, changing the subject. “You remember Melanie Connor, Mom?”
“Aw. Yeah, I do! She was full of piss and vinegar—reminded me of Farrah,” Mom said with a smile.
“Good—maybe he’ll finally divorce that woman,” my dad said casually, cutting into his pot roast.
“What?” Molly asked, glancing at me as she sat up straighter in her chair.
“Christ, Dad,” I mumbled, shaking my head as I put another carrot in Rebel’s mouth.
“What? Ain’t a secret. Kid’s been married since he was old enough to fuckin’ shave.”
“Rocky’s married?” Molly hissed at me.
“Not our business,” I warned.
“The hell it’s not!”
“Molly—that’s between them.”
“She doesn’t even know!”
“You sure about that?” I asked, making Molly’s mouth snap shut.
She turned her head away and stiffly began to eat. My mom pulled her into conversation and they discussed all sorts of shit, but the entire time we sat there, Molly refused to look at me. It was blatant, and had Tommy watching me in amusement as I tried to get her attention.
“I’m going to go get the dessert,” my mom announced after a while, hopping out of her chair. It only took her a second to grab the cake pan off the counter, and then she was back, cutting up my favorite pineapple upside down cake. Shit, she’d made my fucking birthday dinner—down to the cake. All we needed were some candles.
“Do you make that from scratch?” Molly asked my mom, a tentative smile on her face.
“Yep—this is my Gram’s recipe, too,” Mom answered proudly.
“Cool,” Molly said with another smile. “I’m just going to go clean Rebel up. You guys eat without us.”
“You don’t want cake?” my dad asked, like Molly was insulting my mom.
“Um.” Molly’s face grew a little red as she glanced at me. “Rebel can’t have milk.”
“Will, why didn’t you say something?” my mom scolded, snatching the cake back off the table.
Fuck. I felt like such an asshole, as Molly sat there red-faced. She was embarrassed and had tried not to make a big deal out of it, but my parents wouldn’t let shit go.
“I didn’t know,” I said uncomfortably.
“That’s okay, Will,” Molly said softly.
“She allergic or something?” my dad asked, because he couldn’t just fucking drop it.
“No, she has a skin condition—”
“Contagious?” Dad cut in.
“Jesus Christ,” I spit out, getting to my feet. “Does it goddamn matter?”
Rebel jerked as I got to my feet, but wrapped her arms around my neck as soon as she got her bearings.
“Will,” Molly called, embarrassed. “It’s fine.”
I looked down at her hand on my hip, then met her eyes. I was making it fucking worse.
“She has eczema,” Molly told my dad, her fingers curling into my belt loop as I stayed on my feet. “It’s not contagious. And she’s not allergic to milk, but once I stopped giving it to her, the eczema stopped flaring up as much.”
“She can’t have any?” my mom asked. “Not even when it’s cooked in? Or cheese?”
“I haven’t tried.” Molly shook her head. “It’s been so nice not having her scratching at her skin until it bleeds that I haven’t wanted to chance it.”
