Can't Look Away(109)

“What’s the thing?” He squeezed her hand and she looked back at him. His thick, dark hair was ruffled, his face so classically handsome. Like an old-time movie star—Cary Grant, maybe. And who would Jake be? Someone scrappier. Paul Newman, she thought, an ache in her heart.

“The thing is, I still love Jake, too.” Molly let her words sit in the space between them. They were the truth. A part of her feared they always would be.

“I know you do.”

“But you need to understand—it’s part of the reason I’m having this baby,” she went on, her mind running. “Because I love Jake, and I can’t imagine not having the baby that came from that kind of love, even if Jake isn’t in the picture. Even though I don’t want him to be in the picture. I know that sounds completely deranged—and probably selfish, too—but it’s just … it’s the only answer for me.”

Hunter shook his head. “It’s not deranged. And it’s not selfish. This baby—whoever they are—will be so loved.”

The driver swerved right onto Sixth Avenue, blaring his horn as a teenage couple jaywalked across the street. “Fucking idiots,” he muttered in a thick New York accent.

Molly glanced at the time on her phone; she had fourteen minutes until her train.

“You’ll make it,” Hunter said, reading her. “Traffic’s easing up.”

Five minutes later, the Uber slowed to a stop in front of Penn Station.

“Good luck, you two.” The driver winked in the rearview mirror as Molly and Hunter climbed out of the car, and they couldn’t help but break into laughter.

Weekend crowds flocked the street—tourists in for Broadway matinees, families with children still on holiday break who’d come to catch a glimpse of the Rockefeller tree.

“Oh, New York.” Molly slung her bag over her shoulder and gazed north toward the Empire State Building, its spire piercing the overcast sky. “I would hate to leave.”

“Why would you leave?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I don’t think I can afford my own place right now. If I move back to Jersey and live at my mom’s for a while, we could still see each other.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Hunter stepped toward her, reached for her hands again.

She thought she might drown in the warm, minty smell of his skin.

“Live with me, Molly.”

She searched his face, her eyes filling again. “Live with you? I’m pregnant.”

“So?”

“So, what? I should just live with you and have this baby with you? And it’s just supposed to be that easy?”

Hunter smiled. “Yes, maybe it is.”

She laughed as tears spilled over, dripping down her face, and Hunter used his thumbs to wipe them away. A simple yet profound notion landed in the center of her mind: Maybe happiness is what you surrender to, not what you fight for.

Molly smiled up at Hunter, feeling a wave of love. “Okay.” She nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck and hoping she’d never have to let go. When he leaned down to kiss her, his lips felt perfect, like the lips she’d always been meant to kiss. Something true and right clicked within, and it was just as exhilarating as she’d always subconsciously imagined kissing Hunter would be. No drama, no ego, no volatility. Only love.





Chapter Thirty-eight

Jake




August 2022

On the way home from Stella’s birthday party, Jake is silent behind the wheel. He can feel Sabrina’s eyes on him from the passenger seat.

When they pull into the driveway, Jake turns off the ignition. He stares straight ahead. He doesn’t blink.

“Jake.” Sabrina rests her hand on his arm. He says nothing. “Jake, I’m so sorry. You must be devastated. And so confused.”

He can’t bring himself to speak.

“What a terrible person she is,” she continues. “We can’t let her get away with this.”

At this, he finally turns to her, his eyes narrowing. “What?”

“I can’t imagine how upset you are, baby.” Sabrina moves her hand up his arm and gives his biceps a gentle squeeze. “She lied to you all these years.”

Jake pulls away from her, unbuckles his seat belt. “What are you talking about, Sabrina?”

Her face darkens. “You never call me Sabrina.”

Jake climbs out of the car. He storms down the driveway, away from Sabrina. She isn’t Sisi right now. He can’t envision a world where she’ll ever be Sisi again. Behind him, he hears her sandals crunch over the gravel as she scrambles after him.

“I’m trying to help you, Jake!” she calls. “You cheated on me—you haven’t even mentioned that—and I’m still here, trying to help you.”

He stops, whips around so that they’re facing each other. A few beats of silence pass. “I kissed Molly once,” he says finally. “I’m sorry. It was wrong.”

“You didn’t just kiss her. You fucked her.”

“I actually didn’t.” He can see how angry his apathy is making her—the way the vein running through her temple bulges—but he doesn’t care.

“Don’t you even want to know how I found out?” Sabrina is practically trembling. A cloud parks itself over the sun, shadowing the driveway.