I Wish You Were Mine (Oxford #2)(62)

“Knows what? That you’re shagging her ex?”

“Shagging? You’ve been on two dates with that British guy. A little soon to be picking up his lingo.”

“Pick up the phone. Let me see the dress. And no, I don’t think your sister has a clue. She’s far too self-absorbed.”

Mollie ignored her friend’s jab at Madison and picked up the phone, holding it out so Kim could see the front of the dress before turning her back to the mirror and holding the phone so that Kim could see the best part.

Kim whistled. “Damn, girl. That’s the one.”

“I know, right?” Mollie smoothed a hand over the dress. It really was perfect. Short enough to show her legs without risking any panty shots. The front covered her fully but hugged in all the right places, and the crisscross pattern of the back was even sexier on than it had been on the hanger.

Belatedly she looked at the price tag and winced. “Ouch.”

“Isn’t this what having a rich boyfriend is for?” Kim asked.

Mollie gave her friend a glare. “I’m hanging up now. Thanks for the help.”

“What? You just drop me the second you’ve found the one? You used me, Ms. Carrington!”

“Please. You begged me to do this stupid FaceTime thing.”

“And a good thing too. You would have bought that yellow one that matched your hair, and it would have been platinum banana city.”

“Remind me again why you’re my best friend.”

Kim blew her a kiss. “You love me. And I love you.”

“I do. But I’m still hanging up.”

“Fine. But text me the second the party’s over. Let me know if any of your guy’s hot friends are single.”

“I thought Mr. Britain was the one,” Mollie teased.

“A girl’s got to have backups. Especially since my mother actually used the phrase ‘peak fertility’ today.”

“Yikes.”

“Right? Okay, love you. Bye.”

Kim hung up, and Mollie smiled as she put her phone away, grateful that she had at least one constant in her life in the form of Kim.

She’d never needed a best friend so badly, with this thing with Jackson getting too intense too fast, and with her sister completely ignoring her…

Mollie paused in the process of hanging the dress back up on the hanger.

Maybe it wasn’t fair to give Madison so much crap for not calling her. Mollie hadn’t exactly been calling her sister nonstop either. Maybe there was miscommunication on both sides.

Ten minutes later Mollie had bought her dress and was walking the few blocks from Bloomingdale’s to Central Park. The afternoon was cool and crisp. Not exactly sit-on-a-park-bench weather, but Mollie wanted to talk to her sister before she got back home—it seemed weird to talk to her sister from the same place where she’d had sex with Jackson.

Mollie felt herself exhale the moment she stepped off Fifth Avenue and entered the park. Central Park was one part of New York that the movies got exactly right. It was everything she wanted it to be. The right amount of busy and quiet, of city and escape—a place where you could feel like you were alone even when you weren’t.

She found a vacant bench and, tucking the bag holding her overpriced dress against her side, pulled out her cell phone. Mollie blew out a long breath as the phone rang. And rang. And rang.

Madison’s voicemail came on, her voice low and smooth and to the point. “You’ve reached Madison Burke. Leave a message, and I’ll call you. Maybe.”

Madison Burke. Mollie had never thought much about the fact that Maddie hadn’t changed her last name back after the divorce, but she supposed it made sense now. Madison had always been shrewd. Perhaps on some level she’d always been thinking that Jackson would be her backup plan.

Mollie hung up without leaving a message. What could she possibly say? I love you…I need you…Please forgive me…None of those seemed right.

She sat there for several long moments, waiting for the hollow feeling to dissipate, but it didn’t. It just stayed there, lodged in her chest. Growing. Aching.

Maybe she should have talked to Kim. Kim could be a little bit abrasive and a lot flippant, but she was also a good listener when Mollie needed her to be.

But Mollie didn’t text Kim. She didn’t text her sister either. Because it wasn’t just Kim who had always been there for her. There was someone else in her life who had been there for her, even when her sister wasn’t.

Mollie texted Jackson. Can you talk?

She waited impatiently for him to text back, hoping he wasn’t in an hour-long meeting. She’d taken the afternoon off to get ready for the party, but when she’d asked if he was doing the same he’d merely stared at her and said, “Why?”

Men.

Jackson texted her back within minutes. Sure. What’s up?

No, I mean in person.

There was a long pause before he wrote back. Where are you? Everything okay?

Central Park. East side, about 60th. She didn’t answer the part about being okay. Didn’t really know how to.

Give me ten. I’ll call you when I’m close.

Mollie closed her eyes in gratitude. Thank you.

Jackson didn’t respond, and Mollie tapped her feet and pressed her hands between her thighs to keep them warm as she waited not so patiently for his phone call.