Chapter 748 Elliot's Early Marriage 2
Dusk had settled, the last light melting into the horizon as a polished Lincoln limousine rolled slowly up the long drive of the Windsor Mansion. Its headlights swept across the manicured lawn before it came to a smooth stop on the stone-paved forecourt.
On the front steps, Serafina and Diana stood with Abigail between them, waiting.
The moment Molly stepped out of the car, Abigail broke free and toddled toward her, arms wide. She wrapped her little hands around Molly's leg, tilting her head back with a dramatic gasp. "You're so pretty!" she declared with theatrical sincerity.
Molly flushed, caught between embarrassment and amusement.
Without missing a beat, Abigail reached for the bottle of milk someone was carrying. It was the dead of winter, the air sharp with cold, and Molly knew a chilled drink was not the best idea for a child. She gently took Abigail's small hand.
"Let's warm this up in the kitchen," she suggested.
But then she hesitated—this was her first time here, and she should probably greet Elliot's parents first.
Jacob waved off her concern. "Go on, take her. We're not that formal here. Elliot's with Oliver and Sarah."
Molly froze. Elliot was already home.
Suddenly shy, she decided against walking into the living room just yet. Instead, she carried Abigail toward the kitchen. The little girl clung to her like a kitten, murmuring sweetly, "I like you."
Molly's cheeks warmed again. She poured the milk into a small saucepan and heated it just long enough to take off the chill.
Under the warm amber kitchen light, Abigail's fine baby hair glowed like spun gold, her cheeks soft and pink, her clothes spotless, her curls bouncing with every movement.
Something in Molly's chest tightened. She bent down and hugged Abigail gently, as if holding the childhood she herself had never known.
A shadow fell over her.
She looked up—and there was Elliot. The light caught the edges of his face, throwing his sharp features into warm relief. For a moment, she simply stared.
Beside her, Abigail leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "Aunt Molly, isn't Uncle Elliot handsome?"
The flush returned to Molly's cheeks.
Elliot bent to scoop Abigail into his arms. "Come on," he said softly to Molly. "Let's go sit in the hall."
Abigail pouted. "I'm not done!" she protested, eyeing the half-finished glass of milk.
Elliot carried her off anyway, muttering something about it being too cold.
She balled her tiny fists and thumped his shoulder. "Bad Uncle Elliot!"
Molly followed, a strange mix of envy and gratitude curling in her chest. This place would be her home now. These people—her family. And maybe, someday, she and Elliot would have a child of their own.
As if reading her thoughts, Elliot glanced back with a glint of mischief in his eyes. Molly swatted his arm. "Stop looking at me like that."
He chuckled, one arm around her shoulders, the other still holding Abigail, and led them toward the main house.
In the great hall, Oliver's gaze landed on them—Elliot with Molly at his side—and his shoulders eased. At last, someone had managed to anchor his wayward son. Left to his own devices, Elliot might have stayed single forever.
Because of Molly's visit, the Windsor family dinner was unusually lavish. To show their welcome, Sarah had personally led Serafina and Diana into the kitchen for what was meant to be a display of home cooking. Serafina could at least manage a dish or two.
Diana, however, could barely hold a plate without incident.
Sarah herself was relying heavily on the chef hovering in the background. She leaned toward the girls and whispered, "Whatever you do, don't let Molly find out the chef made most of this. First impressions matter."
Diana teased, "Mom's getting ridiculous. Just like Dad."
Serafina bit her lip, trying not to laugh, and failed.
That was when Molly walked in.
Sarah, Serafina, and Diana froze like statues.
Molly, unfazed, stepped forward and picked up a tray of mushrooms. "These will be perfect for a cream of mushroom soup," she said with an easy smile. "I'll season the beef with just salt and pepper, then sear it until the edges turn golden and caramelized."
Elliot slipped a small apron over her head and moved to help, content to play her assistant.
Serafina went silent.
Diana went silent.
Sarah, on the other hand, was silently panicking. Why had she come into the kitchen at all? Why pretend to cook? What if Molly thought her future mother-in-law was a fraud?
But Molly didn't seem to mind. She loved cooking. She loved the warmth of a busy kitchen. And she loved the feeling of belonging here—with Elliot's family.
One by one, the dishes came together, filling the kitchen with mouthwatering aromas.
Diana was practically drooling. She stole a sip, then elbowed Elliot with a grin. "When you two get married, can I move in with you? I promise I'll behave. I won't bother you at night, I'll do your laundry, wash your socks, and be Molly's full-time assistant. Please?"
Elliot snorted. "In your dreams."
Molly's hands were too delicate for daily cooking—he'd never let her wear herself out. He told Diana she should get married herself if she wanted someone to cook for her.
The word made Diana pause.
Married?
Her mind drifted to someone she hadn't seen in a long time. She wondered where he was now, and if he ever thought of her.
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