Can't Look Away(16)

“Oh, Sabrina.” Molly feels a pull of empathy. “I’m sure everything is fine, but I understand. Every month feels like an eternity when you’re trying. And it’s smart to be proactive.”

Sabrina nods. “If I’m not pregnant by the end of the summer, we’ll do IUI. Ricci says we’ll need to before insurance will cover IVF.”

“The insurance stuff is such a pain in the ass,” Molly commiserates. “Ours doesn’t have infertility benefits at all. It’s been … a huge investment.”

“It will be worth it in the end, I’m sure.”

Molly isn’t so certain. “You’ll be in good hands with Ricci,” she says instead. “Her practice has such a high success rate.” Over 70 percent, in fact—one of the highest in the country—yet Molly remains in the minority of patients whose body just refuses to work the way it should. This time, at least.

“But Stella…” Sabrina hesitates. “Stella you conceived naturally?”

“Yeah.” Molly watches her daughter, her small body crouched as she plays in the sand. Stella’s imagination is wild and enormous; she can play by herself for hours on end. Rocks and sticks and leaves and shells all quickly become her friends, part of a magical world that is Stella’s alone. “I didn’t even have to think about it the first time—that’s the craziest part. I was just pregnant, like that.” Molly snaps her fingers. “So I thought trying for a second baby would be the same.” She exhales. “The day I saw you at Dr. Ricci’s a couple of weeks ago, I was in for my blood test. For the results from our latest embryo transfer. It was our fifth transfer, and it didn’t work.”

“Oh, Molly.”

“We’ve been trying for almost four years. I did have a miscarriage, during our first round of IVF, which gives me hope that at least…” Molly pauses. “That at least it almost worked once. Maybe it will work again.”

Something dark flashes across Sabrina’s face, but just for a moment. “You’re right to be hopeful. I’m hopeful for you.”

“Thanks.” Molly takes another sip of rosé. “It’s just nice to have someone to talk to about all this crap.”

“Seriously.” Sabrina turns onto her back again, sitting up. She digs a bottle of sunscreen from her bag. “And yeah, it’s like all these women in Flynn Cove just pop out perfect baby after perfect baby, and if anyone is struggling, no one ever talks about it.”

“That’s what I always say to Hunter.” Molly feels a bit drunk—the wine is going straight to her head—but she feels like she can tell Sabrina anything and it won’t be an overshare. “Hunt keeps saying that if I really can’t stand it here, we can move. I think he’s sick of hearing me complain all the time.” Molly unbuttons her linen top, tosses it to the side. She has on a nursing bra—an old nude one she still wears all the time because it’s comfortable—but she isn’t embarrassed. Her body looks good, not so different from Sabrina’s, she thinks with a jolt of confidence.

“Where would you move?” Sabrina rubs sunscreen into her arms, which already look tan. Around them, the beach is beginning to fill with families, but luckily no one Molly recognizes. She doesn’t want this moment interrupted.

“That’s the thing, we wouldn’t move.” Molly shakes her head. “I know that Flynn Cove is the right place for Stella to grow up. The schools are better than basically anywhere, and she loves her friends and sailing, and having Hunter’s mom right around the corner is huge. Becky’s great—she takes Stella horseback riding, babysits all the time. It just … it works for us to be here, if I’m really honest with myself.” She smiles at Sabrina. “Besides, not everyone is so terrible.”

“Meredith is kind of terrible,” Sabrina demurs, and they both crack up.

“The fucking worst, right?”

When their laughter subsides, Sabrina taps her cup against Molly’s. “To new and lasting friendships.”

“To new and lasting friendships,” Molly repeats. She closes her eyes, inhales the smell of salt and brine rolling off Long Island Sound. The warm sun beats down on her skin, and it’s hotter than she realized.

“Stella!” she calls, flipping her eyes open. “Come here, baby. Time for sunscreen.” She turns to Sabrina, gesturing to the bottle of Coppertone on her towel. “Mind if I borrow that?”

“’Course not.”

Stella skips over. “Are you wearing bras?” she asks, her little raspy voice sending a stitch of affection through Molly’s heart.

“Yes, sweetie. Sometimes it’s okay to wear bras on the beach because they look like bathing suits.” Molly tries not to laugh.

“You guys look like my Barbie dolls,” Stella observes, hands on her hips.

Sabrina grins. “Your mom certainly does, but I don’t know about me. Barbie has blond hair.”

“Teresa has black hair.” Stella holds out a broken scallop shell. “Mommy, look what I found. I think there was a crab living in it before.”

“I don’t know if crabs live in those kinds of shells, baby.” Molly places her cup in the sand and picks up the sunscreen. Stella’s skin isn’t as pale as Molly’s; by the end of the summer, she’ll be brown as a berry, but she still burns easily if Molly isn’t careful. “Here, let me do your face. The sun is strong today.”