Can't Look Away(103)

People are beginning to stare, but Molly cries, anyway, because she can’t not, and because she’s so angry with herself for so many reasons, and then there’s Nina placing a hand on her shoulder and whispering, “Moll, let’s go inside.”

The song is over, and underneath every emotion that is ripping her open, Molly is so unthinkably proud of her daughter, and then Stella is there, her little face looking up at Molly’s in confusion or maybe fear.

“Mommy, why are you crying?”

It’s the third time this summer that Stella has asked her mother this question, and part of the answer, of course, is always Jake.

Molly drops to her knees, cupping Stella’s face in her hands. Her daughter’s eyes are wide and stunningly blue, blue like the richness of the sky on a cloudless day. Suddenly, Jake is there, too, crouching beside Stella, then staring at Molly with the same blue eyes—interchangeable eyes—and she cannot bear it.

“Molly.” He blinks, and she knows him well enough to know that he knows, that he’s figured it out for himself; she sees the discovery and astonishment and pride and pain all over his face. “Stella … her eyes.”

Jake’s voice is barely a whisper, but Sabrina hears. She approaches them, teetering a little. “What d’you mean, Jake? What about Stella’s eyes?”

He turns to her. “I … it’s nothing.”

Sabrina’s gaze moves to Stella. Then back to Jake again. She looks between the two of them several more times, the color draining from her face as it hits her. “Holy fuck.” She whips her head in Molly’s direction, her emerald eyes narrowing. “You psycho bitch.”

“Sabrina—”

“What’s going on, Mommy?” Stella is still holding the microphone in her hand. She looks scared. “Your friend is saying bad words.”

“I can tell you exactly what’s going on, sweetie.” Sabrina’s expression grows livid, almost manic, as she turns to Stella.

“Sabrina, don’t—”

“Your mom almost had me fooled, just like everyone else. But, Stella, look at Jake here. Have you ever wondered why you look so much like him, but really nothing like your daddy?”

Molly freezes. Her heart is in her throat. Something primal hitches inside of her, taking over. “Shut up, Sabrina.” Blood pounds in Molly’s ears, so hard it feels like she’s gone deaf. She hears Stella begin to cry, and out of the corner of her eye, she sees Hunter pick her up and carry her toward the house. Thank God.

“Wow, you really are a piece of work, Molly. And all this time, I’d just thought you cheated on Jake. But this is even worse.” Sabrina laughs darkly. “I really can’t believe I didn’t see it for myself sooner. You’re so right, Jake. It’s the big blue eyes that give it away.”

“Sabrina, please stop.” Molly feels dizzy, her heart racing. She feels thirty pairs of eyes glued to them. “This isn’t the time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is there a more convenient time for you to explain to all of your friends and family here that Hunter isn’t Stella’s real father? That she’s really your ex-boyfriend—my husband’s—kid?”

“Hunter knows,” Molly says through clenched teeth, praying with every fiber of desperation in her body that Stella is already out of earshot.

“Really?” Sabrina purses her lips, the vein on her temple bulging. “Does he also know you’ve been screwing around with Jake behind his back this entire summer?”

Sabrina’s voice is just loud enough. Halfway across the lawn, Hunter stops. He turns, stares at Molly. Stella squirms in his arms, breaking loose from his grasp and running back to the scene. Molly can’t find her breath; it’s stuck in her lungs. Sabrina knows about Skipping Beach. That’s why she’s been ignoring her. And now Hunter knows, too. This can’t be happening.

Several people gasp, including Molly’s mother. Most of the adults have begun to assemble their children, gathering towels and backpacks.

“Sabrina, that’s enough.” Jake grabs her arm. “You’re drunk. We’re leaving.”

“I don’t think so, Jake,” she spits. “Not until I finish confronting the woman who’s been fucking my husband. What, you also thought I was clueless?”

“We didn’t—” Jake stammers. “We only kissed.”

Hunter studies them, his face expressionless. Stella is crying harder now, her arms wrapped around Molly’s legs.

Jake yanks Sabrina’s arm again, more forcibly this time. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“I’m not going anywhere until she looks me in the eye and admits it.” Sabrina pulls away from Jake, moving toward Molly. “My so-called friend. No wonder nobody in this town likes you.”

Molly looks around for someone—anyone—to take her daughter inside. Both Becky and her mother are gaping at her, dumbstruck, but Nina reads her mind. She rushes over and untangles Stella from Molly’s knees.

“Admit it.” Sabrina steps closer, lowers her voice to a whisper. “Backstabbing whore.”

Molly doesn’t know how Nina lures Stella away from the commotion, but she breathes relief at the sight of them walking down the steps, toward Becky’s house. A few guests still linger, but Molly is suddenly too angry to be embarrassed. The anger is a sheer, blinding force.