CHAPTER TWO

MOLLY

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Atlas Stupid Montgomery. I do not want to see him.

Ever.

Again.

But he's my best friend's soon-to-be brother-in-law so I have no choice. As tempting as it is to stay in London, I have to return home to the United States.

My world has changed.

My grandfather, who I loved dearly, passed suddenly. Well, as suddenly as anyone who is in their eighties could. He was such a strong and healthy man, then his heart just decided it was time to stop.

Mom was a mess, so when Dad returned to Philly, I chose to stay behind with her to help sort out the estate. After all, my work contract had just ended, and Grandpa left me a nice amount of money, so I had some thinking to do before going home.

It certainly isn't the kind of money Atlas has.

Not many people do.

His family are billionaires. I know that because Payton is marrying Knox Montgomery. He's the love of her life and father of her unborn child.

I'm really happy for her.

I just wish they would elope.

Then I wouldn't have to see Atlas again.

My experience that night was very different from hers. As far as Payton knows, I watched too many reruns of The Simpsons and then his driver took me home.

Only part of that story is true.

I was stoned off my ass and sprawled—and I mean sprawled—out on his sofa like a hussy. While The Simpsons softly played in the background I opened my legs to him, and he literally feasted on me.

Ugh.

Just thinking about it makes me hot. Not hot as in sexy hot—okay yes, that too—but mostly embarrassed.

I shouldn't have done that.

His words are seared inside my memory and will be for life.

What was I thinking?

As if a guy like Atlas would be interested in a girl like me. Not even for a quick dirty night. I mean I turned up at his million-dollar penthouse in a fifty-dollar dress and offered myself to him.

Dumb.

Dumb.

Dumb.

Then he started with the pity I'll call you tomorrow.

Jesus.

My parents would be so ashamed of me. Not that I would ever, ever, tell them. Of course. It's hardly dinner conversation.

Atlas messaged me a few times while I was in London. I guess he wanted me to keep what happened between us private given Payton and Knox are marrying.

He has nothing to worry about.

But I secretly liked that he might be squirming.

Then as more messages came through I felt a little confused. I landed on the belief that he was just looking to finish off what we started.

Let's chat. Sober. I'd love to see you again.

Translation: I don't fuck drunk, stoned women.

Ugh.

If I wasn't Payton's bridesmaid I'd never have to see him again. Instead the universe is punishing me. I'll be spending a long (and I mean long!) weekend with the Montgomery family over Thanksgiving.

Which is in three days.

Perhaps Atlas wants to clear the air and make sure there won't be a repeat performance. I can reassure him that over the past two months I have not thought about him at all.

Liar.

Then I realize he might have a girlfriend who didn't attend his birthday. I've had nightmares imagining all the beautiful wealthy women who might be at Payton's wedding. After all, she is marrying one of the wealthiest bachelors in the United States.

Atlas himself another.

Payton comes from a wealthy family—her father is a judge—so it makes sense she would fit right in with the Montgomery's.

Me? Not so much.

I come from a very middle-class American family who thinks getting takeout on a weeknight is luxurious.

I'm so out of his league.

No wonder he sent my stoned, dunk ass home.

I shouldn't have done that.

Did he have to say that right after having his tongue in my pussy, making me come harder than any man ever has?

If that wasn't embarrassing enough, the fact that his words triggered me was almost sobering. They were the same words my ex-fiancé said to me after breaking off our engagement.

While he was already married.

No wait. Don't judge. I didn't know. That's the horror of this entire story. For a year I had no idea Steve was married.

The shame I felt then echoes how I felt when Atlas showed me his regret.

While my juices glistened on his lips.

Goddamn him. Why do I choose the wrong men, time after time?

It was impossible to not be attracted to Atlas. He's tall, extremely gorgeous with his dark mussed hair and a permanent shadow on his jawline. And those damn blue eyes.

But I think it's his strong solid shoulders that had me weak in the knees from the moment he blasted me with his billion-dollar smirk.

I blame his friends for getting me stoned.

I probably could have left with my pride intact. Instead of dropping my damn knees open. For the record that's not how I usually behave. I've tried dating since Steve, but normally I don't want to see them again.

I know I have trust issues.

Trusting myself is the hardest part.

How could I have not known Steve was married? It's a question my mom and dad have asked me several times and I don't blame them. He embarrassed all of us.

You see, Steve didn't want an engagement party. I know why now, but at the time he told me it was because he was busy with work and would rather wait a year.

At twenty-four, I thought that was reasonable.

I was in no hurry to walk down the aisle and we'd only been dating for a year.

Steve has a big job—which was a cover for his wife and kids (yup, and he has fucking kids!)—so one day when Mom and I were out shopping she was asking me when we would be announcing our engagement.

"He's busy, Mom. Don't pressure him."

"Then why did he propose?" She side-eyed me.

"Maybe because he loves me. Not everyone has to have an engagement party. Maybe we will elope."

"You will not," she cried, stopping in the street.

Guilt sliced through me, and I realized this wasn't just about me, but my parents too. I'm their only child and they deserved to celebrate the engagement of their daughter.

"What if—" I started.

"Let's surprise him," Mom finished, reading my mind. "We'll do all the planning and Steve can just show up. I know he travels a lot."

She was beaming and the thought of being able to share my news and wear my ring—which I'd been expecting any day...but spoiler, it never arrived —was exciting.

So I agreed.

Between the two of us, we created a gorgeous event and treated it like a surprise birthday party.

In hindsight, what bride-to-be should have to do that?

God, the shame.

I'm so sick of feeling shame. The weight of it is so heavy to carry around.

The night of our engagement party, Steve returned from his work trip— aka being at home with his wife and family—and I asked him to take me out for dinner.

"Molly, for fucks sake, I'm tired." Steve undid his tie and tossed it on the sofa. "Let's eat in."

Talk about freak out.

Everyone was at the restaurant waiting for us.

After thirty minutes of moaning, I finally got him out of the house and walking into the party.

Everyone called out surprise and the look on his face will forever be engrained in my memory.

Horror.

The blood literally drained from his face.

Mom, while holding up her glass of champagne as streamer filled the room, met my eye and I think that was the moment we both knew.

On some level.

Yet good old Steve went along with the whole thing. For three long hours we accepted congratulations and answered questions about where my ring was.

"I'm getting it made." Steve smiled down at me time and time again.

Lies.

All lies.

Halfway through the night, Dad asked Steve why they couldn't reach his sister Stephanie, and he told us she was in Norway.

Norway? WTF.

By the way, Stephanie doesn't exist.

He made up his entire life.

Steve lives in Washington with his wife of five years. He travels to Philadelphia each week where he works in their office and apparently has fake relationships with innocent women.

Meaning me.

His company provides an apartment which I was told was his home. I just thought it needed a woman's touch.

Nope. It was a furnished apartment.

Eventually the night ended, and Steve was so moody by the time we got home that he stomped off to the bathroom and left his phone unattended.

Something he never did.

I was upset by his behavior and had sat on the sofa waiting for him to finish his shower so I could ask him what was wrong when I saw his phone ringing.

Caroline Henry calling.

Henry? That was his surname. Without thinking I picked it up and swiped to answer.

"Hello," I said quietly.

Silence.

"Who is this?" Caroline asked sharply.

"Molly. Steve's fiancé," I replied, wondering if this was a family member. A cousin. A sister. A... but I knew.

I knew from the moment I saw her name on the screen. Sometimes the heart needs time to let the head see the truth. Nevertheless my armpits had prickled, and my temperature rose as the conversation continued.

"Fiancé? Is this a joke?" she yelled.

Why did I feel guilty?

This man was my fiancé. The man I had loved for over a year and here I was feeling like the other woman.

Because I was.

My eyes closed as reality began to sink in. Tears pooled in my eyes as I'd begun to shake.

My dreams were shattered.

"Where is he? Put Steve on," Caroline demanded.

Oh god.

"He's in the shower," I'd stammered out emotionally, my heart shattering into pieces.

How could he have done this to me?

Caroline began shrieking in my ear just as Steve stepped out into the living room. It's weird how people know even when they have all the information. As I sat there with his phone against my ear, tears pouring down my face, he yelled at me.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

I dropped the phone and curled my legs up under me, reaching for a cushion to hug while Steve launched for the phone.

"Caroline," Steve said into the phone as he glared at me. "Sweetheart, wait!"

Sweetheart?

Tears poured down my cheeks as he continued speaking to her with a level of care, love, and comfort he didn't afford me.

He left me sitting there, shaking and in shock.

When the call ended, Steve stood in front of me, the phone hanging from one hand, a towel wrapped around his waist and stared at me in anger.

"What the fuck were you thinking answering my phone!" he screamed.

What?

That was all he had to say?

Not I'm sorry I lied to you.

I look back now and know I was in shock because the words I said next were not the ones I'd say now. Nor did I know it was the only opportunity I'd ever have to tell him how I feel.

"You proposed to me," I cried, confused. "You asked me to marry you!"

Steve nodded. "I know. I shouldn't have done that."

I shouldn't have done that.

The same words Atlas used the night of his birthday.

Then Steve left.

After throwing up and crying for days, I finally had to tell my entire family, friends, and colleagues that the engagement was over.

Only my parents knew the truth.

That was two years ago and my while my heart is healed, I'm left with a strong sense that men can't be trusted.

A few months after Steve left, I met Payton and we became fast friends. I never told her the truth about why my engagement ended because I was ashamed and wanted to move forward with my life without all that baggage.

I suppose I thought that if people didn't know, then I could also forget about it.

It sort of worked.

I haven't ever stopped thinking about it, but when Atlas said those words to me the night we hooked up, it was like, hello shame, my old friend. Welcome back.

I swore I'd never let anyone make me feel like that again.

And Atlas Montgomery did.

So I do not want to see him.

But I will show up for Payton and be the best bridesmaid she could dream of.

She's three months pregnant, and I feel terrible that I was away so long. However, Grandpa saved me in a way. His death, as heartbreaking as it's been, was a distraction from stupid men.

It forced me to do some self-reflection.

When I land in Philadelphia, I'll return a new woman.

I've started a business.

For the past few years I've been working at marketing agencies gaining valuable experience. I've always imagined working for myself but thought it would take another ten years. With Grandpa's money, I was able to create a website, start running some Facebook ads and now I have two clients.

And enough cash to tie me over for at least twelve months.

I don't want to let him down.

Grandpa always told me I could be anything I dreamed of. He encouraged me to go to college and study whatever made my heart happy. So I did and that's what led me to marketing.

After weeks of mulling over the decision of whether to put a down payment on a house or take the risk of running my own business, I chose the latter.

It was a big decision.

Mom and I were walking through Hyde Park one morning when I told her what I wanted to do.

"You know he believed in you. And Molly, just remember what Grandpa always said: failure is as much part of success as success itself is." Mom told me.

We both smiled sadly at the memory of him.

"So you think I'll fail?" I asked tearily.

She laughed. "No, sweetie, I think you will learn from whatever you do and honor your grandpa on your journey."

I'm still questioning my decision, but I figure that all business owners must do that in the beginning.

All I knew, as I worked with the team who built my website and the designers who created my logo, was it felt like the right thing to do.

Brand Alchemy was all mine.

I grip the arms of my seat as my plane lands in Philadelphia.

Welcome to the United States of America someone says behind me, and I smile.

I'm home.

Having made good time at the luggage claim and customs, I'm soon in an Uber heading toward my apartment. My flight arrived super early, so I told everyone I was happy to make my own way home.

I fire off a message to Payton.

I'm home! Get ready for the best sober bachelorette party ever.

My phone rings.

"Why are you awake?" I ask.

"Just threw up." Payton sighs.

Gross.

"When will it stop?" I cringe.

"Any day now they tell me." I hear her walking through the apartment. She moved in with Knox almost immediately when they got together, and I've made enough video calls to her to feel as if I've been there.

It's showy.

He is a billionaire after all.

All the furniture is expensive and the style is minimalistic. At least it was until Payton moved in. Although her focus has been the baby room and their wedding, I've heard him complain about the colorful cushions and throws that don't match anything.

His words, not mine.

"I'm the creative, not you. They match," Payton replied, and I snickered.

He's been extremely protective of her and the baby, which is adorable. As her best friend, I approve. I mean, the two of them were never not going to be together in my opinion.

Now they are getting married and having a baby.

"Well, I'm sure it will be worth it when you hold your bundle of joy in your arms." I watch the streets of Philly come to life as we drive through the city.

"Yeah, yeah." She giggles and I hear the crunch of what I assume are water crackers.

"Come back to bed," Knox growls in the background.

"I'm talking to Molly," she replies. "So, what are we doing for the bachelorette party?"

I smile.

I've been planning it for weeks.

"It's a surprise. Knox knows everything. Just wear your favorite dress and I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Knox had strippers. I want strippers." Payton crunches some more.

"I didn't ask for strippers!" he yells out and we both giggle.

"Do you really?" I ask just in case.

"No," she whispers. "But I'm going to make him think I do. Keep him on his toes and all that."

"You are not having strippers. Molly! Call me," Knox demands.

Damn, he's bossy.

"Okay I'm not touching that conversation. Go sort out your soon-to-be husband." I laugh.

"Wait, before you go. What happened with the English guy?" she asks.

Oh.

That.

Greg.

"I'll tell you later," I reply. "We're pulling up to my place. I need to get unpacked and sleep off this jetlag."

When I hang up, I bite my fingernail.

Greg wasn't Atlas.

That's what happened.

Mostly.

Anyway, my priority now I'm back home is Brand Alchemy. I'm committed to making it a success.

Not men.

Not relationships.

They suck.