“Alfie, I can’t. I—”
“You really don’t have any options at this point,” I said. “I don’t think you really want to face the disaster back at the church, do you?”
Her face scrunched up unpleasantly. “No. Not really.”
“Well, here’s your key to get out of here. Get in t
he car and drive to the house.” When she still hesitated, I added, “I’m not expecting anything from this if you are wondering about that.”
“I wasn’t thinking that at all,” she said, shaking her head. “Someone has to tell Harry that the wedding is off.”
“Ah.” I rubbed at my chin in thought. Molly had a valid point there, but I knew of the one thing that would bother Harry the most in a situation like this. “Sometimes, silence is the best answer when it comes to Harry.”
“Come again?”
“I mean, Harry hates the cold shoulder,” I clarified with a small smile. “If you want to give him a loud and clear answer, walk away. Get in the car and drive without saying a word.”
Molly fiddled with the sleeve of her wedding dress as she contemplated those words. A small smile graced her face a moment later.
“You’re right,” she said. “He hates being made the ass in front of people—especially his family.”
I nodded. “Exactly.”
Gathering the fabric of her dress, Molly clutched my house and car key tightly in her hand. Fresh tears filled her eyes as she smiled down at me gratefully. “Thank you, Alfie. You are a wonderful man.”
“That’s the first time someone has said something like that to me,” I said, wryly, and motioned a hand for her to hurry before wedding guests poured out into the afternoon. “Go on, now. I’ll gladly let Harry know that you have left.”
“My bag—” Molly started.
“I’ll grab it for you,” I said. “I’ll bring it to you tomorrow morning.”
A chilly breeze blasted us both. The fabric of Molly’s wedding dress flapped up against my knees as I stared up at her.
“Where will you go tonight?” she asked.
“Don’t you worry about me,” I said, waving her concern away. “I have connections around here. I grew up here. I know my way around.”
She opened her mouth but closed it a few seconds later. She slipped by me without another word. I watched her petite figure hurry over to where my car was parked before I rose from the bench to make my way back to the church to face the chaos there.
I spotted Peyton lingering in the doorway of the church when I walked in. She hurried up to me in a rush of magenta fabric.
“Is Molly gone?” she whispered.
“Yes,” I said, quietly. “She’s in my car on the way to my house for the evening.”
“Oh, good. I’m glad that she has somewhere to go.” Peyton glanced over her shoulder at the door that led into the church. Loud and confused chatter echoed in there. “I told everyone that Molly was sick. I didn’t know what else to say until I knew she was gone.”
“It’s not up to you to say,” I said. “I’m going to tell Harry myself, so if you want to skip the fireworks, I suggest you grab your things and leave.”
Peyton laughed. “I’d rather stay behind to see how the selfish bastard takes the news before I leave.”
“Suit yourself then,” I said, shrugging. “Would you grab Molly’s bag from the bride’s room? I promised to get that to her tomorrow morning.”
“Yes. Of course.”
I left Peyton to scamper down the hallway in the direction of the bride’s room while I found Harry and his groomsmen in the room we had readied ourselves in. The smell of whiskey filled my nose when I stepped inside.
Harry looked up at me. Despite Molly missing, he appeared carefree. He didn’t think Molly would ever leave him. He was that confident in himself.