Page 9 of Joy to the Girls (She Gets the Girl #2)
For the hundredth time today, I can’t help but think about how pretty Molly looks underneath the twinkling Barnwich lights zigzagging over our heads.
She glances at her phone as we walk down the crowded street with our shopping bags, probably worried about how much time we have left, before she shoots me a sideways look, eyebrows rising. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
“Yep. Huge glob of strawberry pancake. Right cheek.”
Her eyebrows shoot up in alarm. “Alex.” She whacks me. “It’s been like an hour since we ate! Why didn’t you tell me—”
“Maybe even a little syrup? Just above your—”
“I’ve just been walking around town this whole time—”
When I start laughing, she skids to a stop, realizing I’m joking.
“Very funny.”
She storms ahead, and I grab her hand to stop her from getting too far.
“I was looking at your face because you look exceptionally pretty today, Molly. Not that you don’t every day.
” She softens juuuust enough to kiss me on the cheek before we resume making our way through the crowd, past the long line of people waiting to see Santa and a delicious -smelling roasted nuts stall run by a disgruntled elf.
Glancing up, I see a charming coffee shop, BARNWICH brEWS spelled out on a swinging blade sign, a bar with stools looking out at the street. An apartment sits just above it, a piece of paper taped to the second-floor window reading FOR RENT .
It feels like a sign, telling me to finally test the waters a bit. Taking a deep breath, I catch Molly’s eye and nod up at it. “There you go, Mol. What do you say we move to Barnwich? Together?”
Molly shakes her head emphatically. “No way. Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas. But a girl has her limits.”
I nod but can’t help wondering if she missed what I was getting at or purposely avoided it. I think about digging a little more, trying to find the answer, but I don’t have the guts.
She tugs on my sleeve and points to a group of kids making an enormous snowman about halfway down the block.
They’ve somehow managed to get his car-tire-size head on but are attempting, and failing, to form a human pyramid to stick his carrot nose into place.
I watch the tiny elementary schooler on top begin to sway as they reach out and then…
tumble into the snow as the whole group comes crashing down.
“Let’s go.”
I pull Molly over, holding out my hand to the kid, whose blue eyes turn into two perfectly round little orbs. “Carrot?”
He nods and holds it out to me. I give it to Molly before meeting her gaze. “Ready?”
She nods and I stoop down, wrapping my arms around her legs before lifting her up.
“A little to the left!”
“No, no! The right!”
The kids call directions out to us as they dust themselves off and stand.
“Just stick it in,” I grunt to Molly. “A little crooked will give it some character.”
Molly snorts before jamming the carrot into the head, and the group erupts into a cheer. When I put her down and look up, I see it’s perfectly placed, the only way Molly Parker knows how to do things.
“We saved Christmas,” I say, and Molly laughs as we wave goodbye and head off down the block. Feeling a little better now, I refocus on our destination and corral Molly toward it. A glowing sign reads PINBALL ARCADE .
“Pinball, Alex? Really?”
I wave off her skepticism as we push inside, the place an explosion of lights and sounds, and yes, pinball machines as far as the eye can see.
“How much of your gift-buying time did you spend playing pinball?”
“The half I didn’t spend annoying you,” I answer honestly. “At the Simpson’s game in the corner, which just happens to be next to…”
We come to a stop in front of an old photo booth, and finally Molly’s face breaks out into a big smile.
She pulls me inside, and we crowd onto the seat, Molly on my lap. I pull a pile of crumpled tip money out of my jacket and insert a few dollars into the machine, making sure to select two copies of the picture strip.
The countdown starts, and Molly pulls me into a kiss, her lips cold from the Barnwich chill. It makes me remember our very first kiss, her fist balling into my shirt in the library stacks.
And then our second one. And all the kisses in between, some just like this, some rushed as we head off to class, some slow and sleepy, our eyes barely open on a Sunday morning.
I want it to last, but there’s no time. We pull apart, laughing and smiling, to make bunny ears and silly faces for the final three photos, the camera flashing away.
When it’s done, the machine starts to chug and the screen tells us to pick up our pictures from the slot outside.
I’m about to get up when Molly pulls me closer for another kiss, and the two of us fade into each other.
Her hands tangle in my hair, everything about her so warm and cold at the same time, her fingers, her lips, her breath.
But something about its intensity puts me on edge. It feels… different from all those other kisses. It makes me wonder if…
Something might be going on with Molly.
For a moment, beneath my eyelids, I see her talking to Cora at the coffee shop back in Pittsburgh, see her shoving her phone out of view while she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
But I don’t have time to think more about it because our phone alarms start to blare in our pockets, and we pull apart, fumbling to silence them as the gift-buying hour expires.
“Time to meet Cora and May,” I say, my hand on her waist as we pull back the curtain to leave the booth.
Outside it, she stoops down, frowning when she pulls a single strip of pictures out of the machine.
“Only one printed.” She sighs, her head bouncing against my shoulder.
“The curse of the lucky socks continues,” I say guiltily, and reach out to pluck the strip from her hands. Very carefully, I tear it right down the middle, pocketing two pictures before handing the other two to Molly with a smile. “ Parent Trap style.”
She laughs and laces her fingers through mine, and then we book it out of the arcade and across Barnwich to meet Cora and May. As we run, I can’t help but wonder if I was just reading too much into the kiss. Too much into everything.
When Molly smiles back at me, I’m sure I must have been.