Chapter 751 Elliot's Early Marriage 5
On the stone steps in front of the villa, Elliot and Molly stood side by side to greet their guest.
Blake stepped out of his car, dressed with a sharp elegance that made Elliot frown on instinct. The man looked like he had walked out of a magazine spread. Elliot decided he would have to ask Molly later—purely for research purposes—whether she thought Blake was better looking than him.
Blake crossed the driveway under the fading light of dusk. Molly stepped forward and embraced him warmly.
After everything they had been through, they were like family now.
Elliot's jaw tightened. Did they really need to hug like that?
When Molly finally let go, Elliot stepped forward and opened his arms. Blake blinked in confusion, but before he could react, Elliot pulled him into a crushing hug, patting his back with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of him.
"You're leaving, and I'm actually going to miss you," Elliot said with exaggerated sincerity.
Blake stayed silent, his expression unreadable.
Molly covered her face, wishing she could deny any relation to this man. Years had passed, and he was still this childish.
Over dinner, Elliot remained the same—jealous, petty, and impossible to ignore.
Strangely, by the end of the evening, Blake found himself at peace with it. He realized that only someone like Elliot could bring real warmth into Molly's life. His own family had always been too small, his feelings for her too thin to withstand the long years ahead. Elliot, however, came with a whole army—siblings, parents, and an endless supply of noisy affection.
Blake clenched his jaw at the thought. He allowed himself that moment of bitterness. Just this once.
It was Blake's last night in Evergreen City. Tomorrow he would return to his hometown to fetch Serenity, and together they would leave for Andoria. They drank a little as the night wore on, and the tension between the two men eased. Blake even promised that when Elliot and Molly had their first child, he would return with a gift—though not for the wedding.
"You could always just not come back," Elliot teased, clapping him on the shoulder.
"I'm definitely coming back," Blake shot back.
Molly shook her head, half exasperated, half amused. Later, when Blake was too drunk to drive, Elliot insisted he stay the night—and then claimed the guest room bed for himself, leaving Blake no chance to have a quiet talk with Molly.
"Best Actor, you're surprisingly warm to sleep next to," Elliot mumbled as he wrapped an arm around him.
Blake tilted his head back, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, and thought with the last shred of his sobriety, 'Elliot's tolerance is ridiculous.'
In the middle of the night, Elliot stirred, overheated. The moonlight revealed the man in his arms, and the memory of the evening came rushing back. He rolled out of bed without a sound and padded toward the master bedroom.
Molly was still awake, curled up on the sofa in her bathrobe, a script open in her lap. She looked up when the door opened.
"You're back? Why?" she asked.
Elliot crossed the room, leaning over to glance at her script before meeting her tired, reddened eyes. "How much longer are you going to read?"
He had never asked her to give up her career. When he said he would take care of her for a few more years, he meant giving her freedom before children came into the picture. He respected her work, even if it didn't make much money—often funding her charity projects himself.
He crouched so his gaze was level with hers.
Molly reached out and touched the bridge of his nose, her voice soft and teasing. "You're being unusually sweet tonight."
"When am I not?" he murmured, settling beside her and leaning against the arm of the sofa. "Blake's a good man. I hope he finds someone in Andoria who makes him happy."
Molly kept reading, absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair. They stayed like that for a long while. He didn't tell her to rest—she was an adult, and when she was tired, she would come to bed. But when she did, he would treat her like the most fragile thing in the world, coaxing her to sleep, kissing her cheeks.
Eventually, the house went dark, one light at a time.
By morning, Elliot reached out and found the space beside him empty.
Molly?
He searched the villa from top to bottom, his pulse quickening. Standing in the driveway in nothing but a shirt, he was seconds away from tearing Evergreen City apart.
A white BMW rolled up the drive.
It was Molly's car.
Elliot jogged over, pulling open the door like an eager retriever. "I thought you'd run off with Blake."
Molly shot him a look. "He drank too much last night. I drove him to the airport this morning, then stopped by my old apartment to pick up my car. It's easier for me to get around."
Elliot had given her a car worth over twenty million dollars, but Molly preferred her own modest one—less attention, more comfort.
She glanced at his thin shirt, half annoyed, half amused, and pulled a cashmere scarf from the car to wrap around his neck. He slipped an arm around her waist.
"You really do take care of me," he said.
Molly sighed, shaking her head as they walked inside.
"Remember," Elliot said, trailing after her, "the two weeks around New Year are ours. Shopping for clothes, buying gifts, walking in the park, watching fireworks—every couple thing on the list. And we're spending New Year at the Windsor Mansion."
He was clingy, but Molly's heart softened. Her childhood had been quiet, almost cold. She needed this noise, this warmth. Elliot was her noise now, and one day they would have children. Her life would be full.
She cupped his face in her hands. "Alright. I'll do everything with you. But this afternoon, come with me to the cemetery to visit my grandmother, okay?"
He pulled her into his arms. Molly rested her head on his shoulder, thinking with a faint smile that he was still wearing her scarf.
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