Page 50 of Cabin Mate

I rub her hand between mine, trying to warm it up. “Don’t do this to yourself. It’s in the past. The future is what matters.”

She groans. “Yeah, but Brooks. That’s seven years of my life, wasted. On that … that … asshole!”

I gasp. “Mary Elizabeth Vanderbilt. Did you just curse?”

Molly huffs out a laugh. It’s small, barely even audible. “Yeah. Not gonna lie, it felt weird.”

I make a clicking sound with my tongue, admonishing her, hoping to make her laugh again. Or at least smile. “What is that, about 1.2 million in your mother’s swear jar?”

She quirks a brow. “It’s a swear vase.”

“Rare crystal?”

“Of course,” she deadpans.

I smile into the darkness, wishing I could see her face. Her voice sounds a little smoother now, like she’s no longer crying. “Thanks for making me laugh. I needed that.”

The bed moves, and I realize her shoulders are shaking. I think she’s crying again, but her shoulders begin to shake even harder … with hysterical laughter instead of sobs.

“What is so funny?” I ask her.

She’s laughing so hard she can barely breathe. “It’s just—” More laughter. “You look—” She laughs again. “Absolutely ridiculous.”

I start laughing too because she’s right. I do look ridiculous. Plus, I’m thrilled she’s laughing instead of crying. I don’t even care if it’s at my expense. My only complaint is, between the onesie and the flannel sheets, I’m sweating profusely here.

Molly flicks her lamp on just in time to watch a bead of sweat drip down my face. “I’m so sorry I forgot to ask my mother about the sheets. You might as well take that thing off or you’re going to die of a heat stroke.”

“Bless you,” I tell her, jumping out of the bed and stripping the unicorn onesie off my sweaty body.

“Oh my gosh, are those … logs?” I follow her gaze to my boxer briefs. Tonight’s are navy-blue and have logs printed all over them, along with the words, “timber loading zone.”

I grin. “Oh, yeah. They were a gift from Madden last Christmas.”

“What did Diane have to say about that?” she asks.

Chuckling, I get back on the bed, but not under the covers, and lean back against the headboard. “She was horrified, of course. It was awesome.”

She shakes her head in dismay. “Brooks and Molly, disappointing mothers everywhere since the day they were born.”

“Hey now, these were all Madden’s idea!”

Molly laughs, but there’s still sadness in her eyes. “Yeah, true. And your mom totally adores you.”

“She adores you too. You’re easy to adore, Molly.” I pause, thinking carefully about my next words. “I’m sorry you’ve been around people who didn’t show you that.”

She gives me a smile that’s so small and so sad, that right in this moment, I promise myself I will spend the rest of my days convincing her she’s the most beautiful, intelligent, witty, wonderful, sexy woman on the planet.

I am now Molly’s personal entourage, her protector, her goodtime boy.

My sole purpose in life is now making it known to the universe that Molly Vanderbilt is the cat’s meow.

The following morning, we head down to breakfast … a very silent, very awkward breakfast. Preston and Mildred keep glancing at Molly, waiting for her to acknowledge them, but she does an impressive job at ignoring them.

Finally, she turns her attention to her mother. “Oh, I keep forgetting to ask you. Do we have some sheets that aren’t flannel?”

Mrs. Vanderbilt’s eyebrows raise. “But the flannel ones are your favorite. I was sure to tell the maids to give you those exact ones.”

“I do love them. Thank you for being so thoughtful,” she says dryly, making me wonder if she’s completely over this trip already. “It’s just that Brooks's body temperature runs warmer than the rest of the world’s, and he’s burning up in those sheets.”