This Thing Called Love: A Novella ✔️

Twelve - Molly

"Oh my God, I have nothing to wear!"

As I  tear through the remnants of my half-empty closet, the situation at hand grows bleaker by the minute. Not one thing I own is suitable for a Saturday afternoon with the family of my fake fiance.

"Don't you have any sundresses?" Willa Mae asks from the doorway. She's leaning against the wooden frame while Sonny snoozes at her feet.

My eyes narrow as I glance over my shoulder. "When was the last time you saw me in a dress?"

"Every woman should own at least one outfit that can be worn at a casual gathering during the day, and be spiced up later for a sexy night on the town," she says with a sassy twist of her shoulders.

I turn away and let out a huff. "Well, thank you, Ms. Fashionista. Where did you hear that?"

"Instagram."

I slide my final two options into the Absolutely Not pile and bite back a curse. "Well, it's official. I can't go to the twins' birthday party."

"Come on, it can't be that bad." Willa Mae crosses the room and peers over my shoulder as her dark eyes assess every depressing morsel of my wardrobe. A disapproving whistle hisses past her lips. "Good Lord, child. Where did you get your fashion sense? Sure wasn't from your mama."

"I'm a construction worker. I never saw a reason to own a dress."

She scoffs. "And look where that logic got you."

"That's it," I declare, throwing my hands into the air. "I'm calling Leo and canceling."

When I pluck my phone from the pocket of my robe, Willa Mae snatches it away. "You will do no such thing. You're going to this cookout, and you're going to enjoy yourself."

"But I don't want to."

"Like hell you don't! For the past two weeks, all you've done is talk about Leo. How funny he is, and how sweet. That boy's a keeper, and you know it."

I tilt my head at her. "There's just one problem with that: he's not mine to keep. Besides, I'm sort of engaged to his cousin."

Willa Mae shakes her head, her curly black hair billowing around her face. "You are digging yourself into a hole you're not going to be able to crawl out of."

"Don't you think I know that?" I swallow past the lump forming in my throat. "I'll figure it out, don't worry. In the meantime, I'm not going to the party."

"Wait a minute, I have an idea. If I give you back your phone, do you promise to put it away?"

There's a determined expression on her face. When I reluctantly agree, Willa Mae hands over my cell, and I let it sink back into my pocket.

"Now hear me out before you say anything, okay?"

My chest rises as I suck in a sharp breath. "Why do I feel like I'm not going to like this?"

"Probably because you're not, but it's the answer to your prayers." Willa Mae's face softens. "Let's take a peek inside your mama's closet. I bet we'll find something there."

A rush of panic claws at my chest, and I can feel the color drain from my face. "Oh, no. Not that. No way."

Her voice is gentle when she speaks. "Molly. It's been two years. It's time to start dealing with your loss. Your mama would hate what you're doing to her memory."

I shake my head, my breaths punching in and out of my lungs in rapid succession. "I can't. I'm not ready."

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. "I'm gonna let you in on a secret, sugar: no one's ever ready, but they do it anyway because that's how they heal."