by Quinn, Cari
Jazz, on the other hand, still wore the first piece of jewelry Gray had given her—the guitar pick necklace from a vending machine currently around her neck—and had pressed in a book the corsage he’d bought her for a high school dance. Every note or card he’d ever sent her was tucked into the diary she’d kept as a teenager. She had all of her old yearbooks and even her band uniform from the short time she’d tried to participate in an organized school activity.
Then there were all the other ways she was a sentimental fool. Crying during Hallmark commercials was now a part of her daily routine. She lavished toys and treats on her guinea pig, Ratt, and the kitten she’d bought on a whim from a kid selling them in front of the grocery store. She’d also foisted the other two kittens on Lila and Harper, whether they wanted them or not. Already she was itching to decorate her baby’s nursery—though they hadn’t yet bought a house—and she wasn’t due until the fall. She was a sap, pure and simple.
Yet another way she and Molly were absolutely nothing alike.
“You remember riding the carousel?” Jazz asked, unable to help herself. She was firmly stuck in sap 101, endlessly pursuing kinship with other secret saps.
“Yeah. That’s how I knew to come here. I remember Mama letting us have two rides each when we begged.” Molly stared at the revolving brightly painted horses for another moment. “I bet you can’t wait to put Dylan on one of them.”
Jazz couldn’t hold back a smile. “Actually, I was already thinking about that. Wait, how do you know his name is Dylan?” Then she sighed. “Gray. Your new best friend. Of course.”
“Best friend? Yeah, right. The dude hates me, as he probably should. I’ve been nothing been nasty to him.” She swallowed hard and dragged her attention from the carousel to Jazz. “And to you.”
Jazz didn’t reply, just watched the horses go round and round while excited kids laughed and hollered and grinning moms and dads hovered nearby.
Someday soon that would be her and Gray. Fretting over their child’s first words and first steps, applauding him for reaching the smallest milestones. Cheering him on every day of their lives.
“This is the kind of place parents should bring their kids. Mama didn’t do enough of that stuff with us, even in the early days.” Molly lowered her head. “I always figured that’s why you wanted to leave.”
Jazz nearly lost her grip on her wallet. She fumbled it back into her lap, then stared open-mouthed at her sister. “Wanted to leave? Are you crazy?”
Molly didn’t look at her. “It’s okay. I already know.”
“Whatever you think you know, whatever she told you, it was a lie. I didn’t want to go anywhere. I was twelve when she shoved me into foster care. I wanted my damn mommy. I wanted my sister.” Jazz blinked back the tears that rushed into her eyes right on cue, but she didn’t have a hope of stemming the tide. She’d been struggling against them for way too long. “God, I love you, Mol. I thought of you as my baby. I used to push you around in my doll stroller when you were small enough, then I’d carry you on my back everywhere when you got bigger. You’d always yank out my earrings and I’d laugh even though it hurt.” She wiped at her tears. “Do you remember any of that? Please tell me you do.”
“I remember,” Molly whispered, gazing down at her hands. “I remember everything.”
“I never would’ve left you on my own. I hated being away from you. For the first year, I wrote you letters every week. I had to save my lunch money to afford stamps. But you never answered them.” Jazz rubbed furiously at her damp cheeks. “You were too little, but I thought maybe you’d send back a drawing or something once in a while. But nothing ever came. Ever. I kept sending them every month anyway, right through high school. By then you were old enough to write back—”
Molly swiveled to face her, her eyes wide. “She never gave me any letters. Not one. I swear to you. If she had, I would’ve answered every one. Even if all I could’ve managed in the beginning was Strawberry Shortcake stickers and I love you.”
“Looks like we were both screwed over by dear ol’ mom yet again.” Jazz started to say more then realized Molly was sniffling. Her mascara was running from tears. Real ones, not ones used to manipulate.
Jazz tried to speak and found she couldn’t. All she could do was reach out to grab Molly’s hands.
“You said love,” Molly said, her throat working. “You said you love me, not loved. Not past tense.”
“Of course I do. How could I not? You’re my baby sister. I loved you from the minute Mama told me she was pregnant with you. I had one of those I’m the big sister T-shirts that our grandma gave me and I wore it every day.” Jazz smiled through her tears. “I was so proud.”
Molly laughed then released her hands. Jazz tried to take it in stride, to remember that Molly was an independent sort and a few declarations, no matter how heartfelt, weren’t going to erase years of distance. Intellectually, that seemed reasonable. Emotionally, it hurt like hell.
She wanted her sister back, goddammit.
Before Jazz could figure out what to say next, Molly flung herself into Jazz’s arms, hugging her so hard that Jazz gasped. Molly immediately reared back and cupped her hand over her mouth. “Oh God, did I hurt you? Did I squash the kid?”
Jazz laughed. “No. You hurt my boob, not my belly. The kid’s fine.” She looked down at the slight rise under her maternity shirt. “Well, pissy about today’s breakfast of corn dogs, but other than that, perfectly healthy.”
“Corn dogs for breakfast? Seriously? See what happens when I take my eyes off you?”
Jazz went still as that beloved deep voice sent shockwaves over her skin. She glanced at Molly, who gave her an impish shrug. “Had to call and tell him when I found you. Figured I owed him that much since I drove you away.”
“You didn’t drive me away on your own. You both did,” Jazz said, lifting her voice though she still didn’t turn her head in Gray’s direction. She was no dummy. One look into those sexy gray eyes and she’d crumble like a day-old cookie. “How much did he offer to pay you to act like my sister for the day?”
Molly had the decency to seem chagrined. She ducked her head, her cheeks flaring pink. “Uh, we didn’t discuss an exact price.”
“Yeah, because I never intended to pay her a damn dime.”
Both Molly and Jazz shifted in Gray’s direction. He lifted a shoulder. “Sucks when you con a con artist, doesn’t it?”
Rather than getting angry, Molly shook her head and smiled. “Should’ve guessed you’d be a welcher.”
“I wasn’t welching. I know my girl. Anyone who spends five hours in her presence falls in love with her. I figured if you had a whole day to get to know her, you’d probably end up offering to pay me in gratitude.” He shrugged and gestured toward their linked hands. Jazz wasn’t even aware of Molly reaching for hers again, but she must’ve. “Was I right or was I right?”
Jazz set her chin. “You expect me to believe you made a deal to pay her that you never thought you’d have to pay because she’d decide she wanted to be my sister again, all on her own.”
“Yes.” He faced her squarely. “I knew all you two needed was time together, and the promise of paying her was enough to get her in your sphere for more than ten minutes. She wanted us gone as soon as we got to her apartment, in case you didn’t notice.”
“I did notice. Talk about a mixed-up signal. Come see me, then turn around and leave.”
“Because it all came flooding back when we were face-to-face. How you used to sing to me and play your guitar and write these goofy songs about playing in the mud.” Molly sniffled and lowered her gaze to their joined hands. “I couldn’t look you in the eye and try to become part of your life for anything but genuine reasons. And if I couldn’t get money out of you, I needed you gone.”
“You need cash that badly?” Jazz asked gently. Amazing how a few minutes of talking things out had smudged away the worst of the hurt. Now she was back in her natural protector mode.
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“Get a job,” Gray suggested.
Jazz narrowed her eyes at him. They’d so be having a conversation later.
“I have a job. I’m in a band. Didn’t you see my guitar? It’s in your damn trunk.”
He crossed his arms and lifted a brow. “Yeah, well, I’m in a band too, so I know how shitty they usually pay. I meant a real job with an actual income. Something you earn for yourself rather than relying on whichever guy strolls through the door promising you the world and delivering nothing.”
Jazz bolted to her feet. “Gray—”
“No, don’t.” Molly grabbed her hand. “He’s right.”
“He is?”
“I am?” Gray cleared his throat. “I mean, of course I am.”
Jazz couldn’t help grinning at the jerk. She also couldn’t help loving him even more for trying to give her a day with her sister, even if his methods were all wrong. “What is this, you trying your daddy training wheels out?”
“He’s right,” Molly said again, tightening her hold on Jazz’s hand. “I tend to trust the wrong guys. I…well, I guess I shouldn’t be trusting any guys right now, period. They only want one thing.”
“Especially don’t trust guys in bands,” Gray added. “They’re fuc—freaking horndogs.”
“Exhibit A,” Jazz agreed solemnly, kicking her foot in his direction.
“Smart ass.”
Jazz glanced at Molly and gave into the urge to stroke her silky curls back from her face. She’d always been beautiful and had only become more so with age. “You should focus on school right now, and yes, a part-time job would be good. The boy thing can wait.”
“Um, I’m not exactly in school at the current time.” Molly bit her lip. “I’m done.”
“What do you mean you’re done? It’s not the end of the school year yet. You shouldn’t be graduating until next year.”
“I dropped out.”
“What? Why?”
“Sit down,” Gray said, nudging her back on the bench without waiting for her opinion on his directive. “You’re all flushed. It’s too hot out here to raise your blood pressure.”
“It’s not hot, and I’m not flushed, and my blood pressure is fine. Mol, why aren’t you in school?” she demanded.
“I dropped out after Mama split last year. School is so fucking lame.”
Jazz sighed and shook her head. “Guess I found one way that we’re alike after all. It’s not a good thing to have in common. I hated school too. Skipped all the time.”
“Really?” Molly’s baby blue eyes lit up. “And you turned out fine. See, school isn’t even necessary. It’s just a big waste of time.”
“I’d like to point out that she just swore in front of Dylan and you said nothing. I detect bias.”
Jazz ignored him. “I turned out fine because I ended up taking college classes and trying again even when I didn’t want to. School is important for your future. You can’t just assume the band thing will work out. The odds aren’t in your favor. They aren’t in anyone’s favor.”
“You did okay. Both of you did,” she said, shifting her head to include Gray. “With an amazing example like yours, why wouldn’t I think I could make it too?”
“Con. Artist,” Gray said under his breath. “A good one, I’ll give you that.”
“You could practice with us now and then, if you wanted. Get a feel for how a working band operates. Maybe come to a show or two. If you wanted,” Jazz said again, hating how tremulous she sounded.
“Really?” She glanced from her to Gray, her cheeks pink with excitement. “That’d be amazing. You’re cool with it too?” she asked Gray.
He sighed heavily. “Yeah. Sure. Why the hell not.”
“Thank you. This is so incredible.” She hurled herself at Jazz again, who was a bit more prepared this time and managed to catch her without losing feeling in her left breast. “I’m sorry we got such a rocky start yesterday. I never should’ve believed Mama,” she said next to Jazz’s ear, low enough for only her to hear.
“It’s okay. We’ll figure it all out.” Jazz patted her back. “We have time.”
“Yeah. We do.” Molly pulled back and aimed a sly grin at Gray. “Guess y’all want some alone time now. I’ll just go look at the giraffes or something til you’re ready to go.” She gave Jazz a sheepish look. “I can catch a ride back to the hotel with you guys, right? My fundage situation is kind of sketchy at the moment.”
“No kidding,” Gray said. “Yeah, we’ll find you.”
“Great. Thanks.” Molly bounded up and probably would’ve kept on going if Gray’s voice hadn’t stopped her cold.
“Wait a second.” He crossed his arms over his chest again, doing his best irritated parental unit imitation. Jazz had to hand it to him. He was kind of a natural. “I believe you have something else to confess to your sister. Involving me.”
She blinked at him, all wide-eyed innocence. “I do. What?” Then her face clouded and she waved her hand. “Oh. That. Yeah, we already talked about how I tried to kiss you. She’s cool. You’re cool, right?” she asked Jazz.
“Well, I wouldn’t say cool exactly, but I’m not murderous about it, so I guess we’re all good.”
“You’re not angry?” Gray asked, clearly perplexed.
“Nah. She won’t do it again.” Jazz looked to Molly for confirmation. “Right?”
Molly nodded with all the sincerity of a Girl Scout. “Absolutely not. It was just a random drunk moment. You know, total beer goggles.” She waved at them and started heading toward the bright sunshine beyond the exit of the carousel building.
Jazz frowned at Molly’s retreating back. “Wait a second. Beer goggles? You were drunk?”
“See ya later, sis,” Molly called, disappearing into the crowd.
“Dear God. I’m not ready for this.” Jazz buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking from laughter or disgust or hell, maybe even joy that she might, just might get her sister back again for real.
“Exactly what I said.” Gray dropped to the bench beside her and stretched his arm along the back. “So how’s my baby?”
“Still irritated at you.”
“Even the fetus is? That’s pretty impressive. I didn’t realize they were capable of—” He laughed when she hit his arm. “Watch it, slugger. I’ve had a long day.”
“You have? What about me? I thought you two were plotting against me.” Saying it out loud drove home how dumb the whole thing was. Molly was still a little bit of a wild card—okay, a lot of one—but she knew Gray, heart and soul. He’d never do anything to hurt her unless he had absolutely no choice.
No one was arguing his methods needed some serious improvement. But the motivation behind them couldn’t be faulted, ever. Not when one glance into the eyes she knew so well told her how much he loved her.
She might still have a case of heartburn from hell, but she was a lucky, lucky woman.
“Plotting, yes. Against you? Never.” He sucked in a breath. “Though now’s probably as good a time as ever to tell you that I hatched another scheme yesterday, and I suppose it serves me right that it’s not going to happen.”
Jazz frowned. “What do you mean the wedding’s not going to happen?”
“Look at the time. We’re running out of it. We still have to—” He broke off and locked his jaw. “How do you know about the wedding?” He slapped a hand against his forehead. “Christ, why am I even asking? The motormouth from San Jose, right?”
“Nope. It wasn’t Molly.” She shouldn’t feel smug that he’d guessed wrong. Besides, she shouldn’t even be having this conversation. Harper had sworn her to secrecy.
“Then who? Lila?”
“No way. Lila’s like a drill sergeant. She never violates protocol.”
He rubbed his jaw. “Well, then, how the hell—” He groaned. “Fucking Harper. You damn women can never be trusted.”
“Hey, hey, hey.” She cupped her stomach. “Little ears.”
He laughed, s
haking his head. “See? Biased.”
“No bias. It’s just the baby knows your voice. In fact, I’m pretty sure—” A sudden ripple through her stomach made her stop and rub her belly. “Huh. Weird.”
“What weird? What? What’s wrong?”
She grabbed his hand and placed it where hers had been. “Feel that?”
From the wrinkle between his brows, she knew he was concentrating hard. He heaved out a breath and shook his head. “No. I don’t feel anything. What’s happening?”
“I think the baby just kicked. Either that or I’m never eating corndogs again, because I think one’s alive inside me and trying to get out.”
He laughed again and slid his hand down over the slope of her belly. “No. Nothing. What did it feel like?”
“It’s hard to explain.” She shrugged helplessly and guided his hand back to where she’d felt the first sensation. “It feels like…that,” she said triumphantly when it happened again.
“That’s a kick? That ripple?”
“Well, I haven’t been pregnant before, but from my reading it seems possible.”
“It’s early.”
“Tell your son that,” she said drily, nudging him back. “Anyway, if we’re running late, we better get a move on. I’m not doing this twice.”
But he wasn’t paying attention to her any longer. He dropped to his knees between her legs and slid his long-fingered hands over her stomach, sculpting the small bump. “Hey Dylan, it’s your daddy. Your mom thinks you’re just a corndog. Kick her again and prove her wrong.”
“Watch it,” she said, but she couldn’t help laughing. God, he was so cute and she was so ridiculously in love with him, no matter what bonehead moves he made or silly stunts he tried to pull off.
Except their wedding. That was no stunt. This was the most important day of her life.
“I think you’re trying to let us know that you don’t approve of us fighting or worse yet, your mom walking out without talking to me and making me practically sick with worry all day. So sick that I spent your college fund on bears and bouquets and enough chocolate to fill the Titanic.”