★彡ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ | ᴘᴀᴜʟ ᴍᴄᴄᴀʀᴛɴᴇʏ彡★ ✅

★彡[ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 37]彡★

Abby was dancing around the kitchen again, a wide grin on her face as she belted out the words to the song on the radio. She had a bowl of mashed potatoes in her hand - well, semi-mashed - she'd been in the middle of doing them when the latest Beatles single came on the radio. She had been there when it had been recorded, and she loved it just as much then as she did at that moment.

Cynthia had left about an hour previously, saying that it would take her over an hour to get back to Weybridge as it was, and John would be wanting his dinner when he got in - she'd barely make it back in time as it was.

Abby liked John, but she thought that he was a little controlling where Cynthia was concerned.

But she was quiet about it, which wasn't like her, because Cynthia seemed happy... or not totally sad, anyway.

A pair of arms went around her middle and a chin rested in the crook of her neck. Shocked and surprised because she had not been expecting anybody to be in the house with her (when she and Cyn had returned, Paul and Mollie had not been home), she dropped the mashed potatoes on the floor as she gasped.

The potatoes went everywhere, covering the black and white tiled floor in a total and complete mess.

Paul looked down at it, shocked. He had not expected that to happen - but Abby was furious.

She whirled on Paul, pushing herself out of his arms and away from him. "Paul!" She yelled, her anger pushing the blood to her cheeks, "why the fuck would you do that? I've been working on that forever! And now I'll have to clean it up and make more! Dinner is going to be another hour now at least -" annoyed that she was crying, Abby wiped a tear from her cheek. Paul sighed, wishing that he could be the one to wipe it away for her... but he knew better than to touch her when she was in such a state. Abby would have to come through it, and then he would apologise - and she would too, because she always felt bad afterwards.

Abby stormed off, her footsteps echoing throughout the house.

"Paul?" A meek voice said from the second doorway to the kitchen. It was the one that led to the dining room, so not the one that Abby had just exited through.

Paul turned and his face fell. He hadn't wanted to witness that himself, let alone have Mollie do the same.

"Oh, Mol," he sighed and crossed the room, picking her up in his arms. Mollie laid her head against his shoulder. "Didn't want you to have to see that, luv." He kissed her cheek, "she's just feeling a bit under the weather, okay?"

Mollie replied to him. "I'm a bit under the weather, Paul, and I don't shout like that."

Paul nodded, gently moving his body up and down so Mollie moved with him. "I know, darling, I know." He carried Mollie out of the kitchen and back to the living room, where he settled her down once more in front of the television. Paul tucked the blanket around her and kissed her forehead before he pulled back. "Just you leave her to me, okay? It's my job to take care of you both now, not yours or even hers."

Mollie yawned.

"Why is she so sad and angry, Paul? I don't see her smile anymore. Why doesn't she smile anymore? She's not Abby if she doesn't smile."

Paul sat on the settee beside Mollie's legs and put a hand on them through the blanket. He patted them and she smiled. At least he could still make one Valentine girl smile.

Paul, as sad as it sounded, couldn't help but feel responsible.

He knew what Mollie meant; Abby used to smile before he had happened. Before Abby and Mollie had lived with him, and before America. Before then, she had smiled... and he had loved her smile.

It was one of the things that had made him go after her that very first day with the peonies.

Her smile.

Paul loved Abby for many reasons, but one of them was her smile.

It was beautiful, and it lit up a whole room when she let it show itself.

Paul sighed.

He missed her smile.

And he missed Abby.

She wasn't herself the last few weeks; she was moodier and more distant, and she had even stopped dressing like herself. Abby had, quite simply, changed... and Paul didn't know why, and he didn't much like it.

He missed her.

And Paul decided to tell her that.

He decided to tell her how much he missed her and how much he loved her, and how much he needed her...

But first, he was going to clean the mashed potato from the kitchen floor.

"Stay here, Mol," Paul said, "I'll be back."