Page 37 of Love in the Lab (Delaneys in Love #2)

Chapter thirty

Jonathan

“ I ’m sorry, WHAT?” Molly’s youngest sister, Olivia, shouts from the other side of the couch as we sit in the Delaney home in Austin, Texas, after Molly introduces me to her family.

We arrived at the house a few minutes ago so we can celebrate Thanksgiving with them tomorrow.

Molly did not tell them I was coming, just that she was bringing a “friend.”

Nicole, the middle sister, holds a hand up toward Olivia.

“Okay, just hold on a minute,” she placates.

Nicole’s boyfriend, Adam, places his hand on her thigh in support.

Nicole turns her attention to Molly. “Mol, forgive me, but I thought you didn’t even like Jonathan? ” She grimaces at me in apology.

I can’t help but grin. “She thought she didn’t like me,” I say. Molly elbows me in the ribs.

“So now, what?” Olivia demands. “You’re dating this guy?”

Mr. and Mrs. Delaney are quiet, watching the scene unfold. Molly’s dad looks curious, but Molly’s mom looks smug.

“Actually…” Molly begins. I wrap my arm around her, and she leans her head back onto my shoulder. “Actually, we’re not dating. We’re married.”

“WHAT?!” Olivia jumps up from the couch. Molly’s dad stands too, his mouth agape. Nicole and Adam share a look that I can’t read. Even Mrs. Delaney looks stunned.

Molly takes a deep breath. “And,” she says. “I’m moving—we’re moving. To South Carolina.”

Everyone starts talking at once with a million questions. When did we start dating? Why didn’t Molly tell them? What’s in South Carolina? Why did we get married?

Nicole raises her voice over the din. “Wait. Everyone! Hold on.” The room quiets. I guess librarians really are good at shushing people. “Molly, start from the beginning.”

Molly regales them with the quick version of how our relationship transformed over the last couple of months, skimming over the more private or dangerous parts. I add my two cents when I feel the story might be lacking in color.

“Wait.” Olivia raises her eyebrows. “Is this who you were making out with on the sidewalk when I was there for the parade?”

Molly’s face turns bright red. I try to suppress my grin as I think back to that evening. Some of our finest work.

“You saw that?” Molly grimaces.

“I think everyone in New Orleans saw that,” Olivia says dryly.

Molly’s dad glares at me in a way that makes every “dad with a shotgun” cliché I’ve ever heard feel very accurate.

My urge to smile disappears. Adam shoots me a sympathetic look but snaps his eyes forward again before Mr. Delaney can see.

I get it, man. Save yourself. No reason to get dragged down with me .

Molly continues her story, ending with a description of our presentation, her job offer, and finally our sweet, elegant wedding ceremony.

As she does, my mind wanders back to Friday evening, also known as the best day of my life.

After Molly said “yes” that afternoon, the rest of the day moved quickly.

We shopped for rings and a wedding dress.

We changed our airline tickets so we could enjoy a short honeymoon in Las Vegas and then fly directly to Texas for Thanksgiving on Wednesday instead of going home to New Orleans first. We booked a room—just one!

—at a hotel a little farther down the Strip for our extra four nights.

Molly called the cat hotel back in New Orleans to extend Beaker’s stay with them.

From the way movies and TV shows make it look, you’d think you can just walk into any of the numerous wedding chapels in Las Vegas, and they take care of everything. Not so.

We first had to go to the Clark County Marriage License Bureau—which is open until midnight seven days a week, by the way—fill out an application, show our IDs, and pay the fee.

Quite a few steps, requiring quite a bit of mental energy.

How Ross and Rachel did all that while drunk out of their minds is something I really don’t understand.

I asked the clerk at the marriage license bureau about the whole pop culture, drunk Vegas wedding thing, and they said it’s played up for dramatic effect.

They won’t even issue a marriage license if either person appears visibly intoxicated.

It’s the long hours the marriage license bureau is open and the fact that there’s no required waiting period between getting the license and the actual ceremony that makes Las Vegas a destination for elopements.

We weren’t in any rush, though, so after getting the license, we went to dinner.

After dinner, it was back to the hotel to figure out which wedding chapel to use.

Molly’s requirements were “not tacky and not expensive.” My only requirement was Molly as the bride.

We ended up asking the hotel concierge for a recommendation.

He suggested a newer place up the Strip differentiating itself as elegant and reasonably priced, and open to walk-ins.

I must have asked Molly if she was sure at least twenty times that evening.

Standing in front of the marriage license bureau: “Are you sure this is what you want?” At dinner as we made plans for the wedding: “Are you sure?” Getting in the rideshare to drive to the chapel: “It’s not too late to change your mind. ”

Finally, she smoothed the back of her hand over my cheek. “Are you the one who wants to change your mind?” she asked, her eyes tender, maybe a little apprehensive.

She had to know how much I love her. “I’m 100 percent in, Molly. Forever and always. I just don’t want you to regret this tomorrow.”

She smiled and took my hand, blinking back tears. “In thirty years when we come back to Las Vegas to celebrate our anniversary, I still won’t regret marrying you.”

I grinned as the car pulled up outside the chapel. “In that case, let’s go check another thing off the bucket list.”

High-pitched coos shake me from my memories. Molly is showing her family pictures on her phone, and apparently her mom and sisters love her dress.

Mr. Delaney watches quietly as his wife and daughters squeal at the photos. Finally, his soft voice breaks through the chaos. “My first daughter to get married,” he says, his eyes drooping as he focuses on Molly’s face. “I wish I could have been there.”

Molly instantly moves to sit next to him. “Daddy,” she fusses, throwing her arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry you feel left out. Our decision to elope was just something we needed to do. Besides, you know I would have hated any kind of big wedding where I’d have to be the center of attention.”

Mr. Delaney—who has not yet invited me to call him by his first name—sniffs as he returns his daughter’s embrace. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make this about me.” He pulls away and smiles at Molly. “It’s just one of those things girl dads look forward to.”

“Oh, Ben!” Mrs. Delaney hugs his other side and presses a kiss against his cheek. “Don’t worry. We still have two more.”

Molly and her dad laugh as Nicole’s eyes go wide—she’s doing her very best not to look at her boyfriend—and Olivia nearly chokes.

I decide to curry favor with my new sisters-in-law, while potentially further damaging my chances with my new father-in-law, by taking the pressure off them. I join the group hug, flinging my arms around Molly and her parents.

Molly’s mom laughs, her cheeks turning red as she swats me away. Mr. Delaney glares at me, the arrangement of his face so familiar that I grin. I can see that Molly came by her angry stares honestly.

“Welcome to the family, Jonathan,” Molly’s mom says, patting my cheek.

“Thank you, Mrs. Delaney.” I turn on my most charming smile. In my peripheral vision, I see Molly roll her eyes.

“It’s Amy,” she corrects. She turns to her husband.

“I’m still deciding,” he grumbles.

“I totally understand, sir.” I can win him over.

I’ve got time. From all Molly’s told me about her dad, he’s a teddy bear who only wants his daughters to be happy.

It won’t take him long to see that she’s happier than ever, though that’s mostly her own doing, not mine.

I probably deserve a little credit, though.

The relationship between a father and a daughter is special. I see it firsthand with my dad and Tamara all the time. But father-son relationships are also important, and I know Molly and I need to tell my family about our marriage soon, too.

Molly and I step into the gorgeous, tree-covered backyard that extends into a forest beyond and settle onto the patio love seat to call my family. Even though the holiday isn’t until tomorrow, I know Tamara will be at my dad’s house tonight helping with the prep.

At Molly’s insistence, we do a video call. Tamara picks up and smiles. “Hi! Jonny, I’m so glad you called because if I have to devil another egg, I will go insane. Hey, Molly!”

Molly waves as I clear my throat. “Tams, are you with Dad?”

“Yeah, I’m at his house. Why?” She leans her face closer to the screen. “Where are you guys?”

“With Molly’s family in Texas. Can you go get Dad? I want to talk to both of you.”

Tamara’s image on the screen bounces as she walks through the house to find Dad. When she does, his face appears on screen alongside hers, then the image flips to landscape view and Sharon is there, too.

I open my mouth to go full bratty kid and insist on talking to my dad and sister alone.

As if she’s reading my mind—or maybe has just gotten good at reading my expressions and energy—Molly puts her hand on my knee and squeezes.

With just that one touch, she communicates support, love, and acceptance, making me rethink my reaction.

At least 30 percent of it might also be that I’m hesitant to be at my worst in front of my new wife.

Maybe save that for when we’ve been married for at least a week.

I take a breath and turn on my smile. “Thanks, Tams. Hi Dad, Sharon.” I try to keep my expression as neutral as possible. “This is Molly. Molly, this is my dad, Pete, and his fiancée, Sharon.”

Okay, that was good. I’m proud of myself so far. I can tell Tamara approves, too, because she nods at me through the screen. I can be an adult about this—a mature, married adult.

My dad grins, waving a hand clumsily at Molly. “It’s good to meet you, Molly, after everything I’ve heard about you.” Mostly from Tamara, I’m sure.

“Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Stanch,” Molly says, clutching my arm a little tighter. “And you, too,” she adds, looking at Sharon.

“Please, call us Pete and Sharon,” Sharon says with her pinched smile.

I clear my throat. “So, anyway, Molly and I wanted to tell you that … we eloped last week. We’re married.”

“I knew it!” Tamara shouts.

She must drop the phone because our view shifts to flashing colors and then black, as if the phone is face down on the floor. It means I can’t see how my dad reacts. Or Sharon. Although I’d like to see them try to disapprove of my marriage while still trying to get me on board for theirs.

I realize I’m holding my breath waiting to see what my dad will say. Finally, Tamara retrieves the phone and holds it back up. My family comes back into view.

My Dad is smiling. “Congratulations to the both of you.” Sharon nods her agreement next to him.

“Thank you. Wait, Tamara, what do you mean you knew it?” I narrow my eyes at my sister.

“Please. You’ve been obsessed since, I don’t know, at least September. You told me you were going to Vegas for a conference ,” she makes air quotes with her fingers here, “and I figured you’d come back married.”

I can feel Molly’s body shaking next to mine. I glance at her to find her almost doubled over with laughter.

I turn my attention back to the phone screen so I can fact check my sister’s little speech. “First of all, we were at a conference, presenting very important research because we are very important scientists—”

“Aw. Of course you are, sweetie. Now, I believe Molly is a very important scientist. She just has that, like, glow of intelligence around her. But you, Jonny?” Her eyebrows are raised, the slight furrow communicating her incredulity.

Her mouth is a thin line quirked to one side, showing a hint of amusement.

“Don’t forget I know all about how you cheated in order to beat me in Scrabble growing up. ”

“That was one time!” I sputter. “Are you serious right now?”

Molly pats my knee. “Of course she’s not serious, Jonny .” She winks. “She’s just doing her big sisterly duty and giving you a hard time.”

“See, Molly gets it. Told you she was smart.” Tamara smirks at me through the phone.

I risk a glance at my dad. He’s chuckling, his eyes soft and bright.

“In all seriousness,” he cuts in, leaning into the phone camera so his forehead takes up half the screen, “We are so incredibly proud of both of you. Molly, we’re so happy to have you join our family. I want to meet you, in person, soon.”

“Maybe for Christmas?” Sharon asks hopefully.

I pretend I don’t hear her. “Thanks all. Molly’s dad is calling us inside now, so we have to go. Love you all! Bye!” I press the button to end the call and stare at the blank screen.

When I finally look up, Molly’s watching me, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“What?” I ask.

She reaches up her hand and smooths my hair, moving a curl off my forehead. “Your smile,” she finally says, “it’s the same as your dad’s.”

She drops her hand to my knee, squeezing it before she stands up. She leans in, quickly kissing my lips, then disappears inside the house, leaving me alone with my thoughts.