Molly - Sarah Monzon Page 0,24

room.

Jocelyn stuck a needle into the collar of the dress she was working on. While we both tended to use the machines for the majority of our projects, Jocelyn preferred to give a lot of her collars a ladder stitch by hand. “One would think we put alcohol in our drinks by a comment like that.”

“But the sugar releases dopamine, one of the chemicals in our brains responsible for happiness.” I pressed my foot to the pedal of the serger and fed the material through. When I finished, I looked up to find my friends staring at me. “What? I’m going to be a teacher. I have to know things.”

Jocelyn clucked her tongue. “Girl, I have a master’s degree, but you don’t see me spouting off about brain chemicals on a Wednesday evening, do you?”

“It’s got to be the doctor.” Nicole set aside her skirt pattern. “A certain physician that our normally chatty Molly has been suspiciously mum about.”

“Yeah, why is that I wonder?” Betsy leaned forward.

Heat infused every inch of my body as I stared at the kittens in my hand. Tabby, Siamese, Calico. I studied them all, refusing to lift my gaze. One look at any of these three ladies and I’d be pounced on like one of these felines on a fat mouse.

My phone rang from my purse, and I scrambled for it. Call me Kelly Kaposki, I was saved by the bell. “Hello?”

“Molly? This is Ben.” Pause. “Reed. Chloe’s dad.”

Did he really think I didn’t know who he was or recognize his voice? I turned my back on my friends. “What’s up, Ben?”

“Did she say Ben?” Betsy chirped behind me. “Isn’t that the doctor’s name?”

“Yep,” Jocelyn confirmed with a smile in her voice—one that said the cat had gotten the mouse.

I waved my hand at them to be quiet.

“Chloe seems to have misplaced her stuffed unicorn. The white one with the rainbow mane and tail. I was wondering if maybe she left it in your car?”

Sniffling sounds came through the phone, and I pictured Chloe in Ben’s arms, crying for her stuffy while he tried to comfort her.

“Let me go check.” The blender turned on as I opened the front door and walked on tiptoes out onto the hot driveway. I sucked breath through my teeth, doing an Irish jig to keep the concrete from burning my bare tootsies.

A flash of white in the backseat grabbed my attention, and I hobbled a few more steps to make sure it was the unicorn. “Yeah, I have Princess Sparkle Cupcake. Want me to bring her over?” I sprinted back to the house to give my scalded soles a break.

A sigh of relief made crackling sounds over the line. “I can pick her up.”

CRASH!

My head whipped toward the kitchen.

“Sweet blitz conversion kick safety field goal!”

I rushed into the kitchen, followed by Nicole, Betsy, and Jocelyn. Amanda clutched her shin, random football terms spewing from her mouth like expletives from a sailor.

“What happened?” Ben shouted in my ear. I’d forgotten he was still on the line.

“I dropped the blender.” Amanda peeled back her fingers from her leg. Blood oozed from a nasty slice along her shin.

“That’s a lot of blood.” Jocelyn clutched at her stomach as Nicole ripped a long line of paper towels from the rack on the counter.

“Blood? Molly!” I heard Ben but was more worried about helping Amanda than about answering him.

I lowered to my haunches and inspected the gash. “That doesn’t look good.”

“What doesn’t—you know, never mind. I’ll be right there.” The line went dead.

I looked up at Amanda, her brow furrowed in pain as Nicole returned pressure on the wound. “Hang in there, a doctor is on the way.”

With one arm around my shoulders and the other around Betsy’s, Amanda managed to hop to one of the dining chairs. Jocelyn hovered in the background, close enough that her presence was known, but far enough away that she didn’t have to see or smell the blood.

Amanda winced as she readjusted her leg. “Did you seriously call 911 for this? It’s just a cut.”

I met her gaze. “One that will likely need stitches, but no, I did not call 911.”

“But you said a doctor was coming.”

Betsy emerged from the pantry with a mop. “Not a doctor, her doctor. She was on the phone with him when you dropped the blender.”

Amanda’s eyes widened at me. “Your doctor makes house calls?”

Why did they keep saying my doctor? Ben wasn’t mine. My employer, yes, but not my personal physician, and