Can't Look Away(33)
Chapter Fourteen
Molly
June 2022
The last week of June, Sabrina invites Molly and Hunter over for dinner. Molly had been with Sabrina earlier that day—they’d gotten mani-pedis then lunch on the back patio at Gwen’s—and Sabrina had suggested it. I think we’re free Friday, if you are, she’d said. Let me double-check with hubby and I’ll text you.
Hunter is lounging on the couch watching ESPN, and Molly looks up from her phone. “Dinner at Sabrina’s on Friday, okay?”
“This Friday?” He takes a sip of his beer, eyes glued to the television. “As in, the day after tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“My brother and Tara are coming down this weekend.”
“So? They live an hour away. They come down all the time.”
“So they’ll want to have dinner.”
“Well, you didn’t mention that until now. Can’t we just see them on Saturday?”
“Moll.” Hunter places his glass on the coffee table. He wraps his arms around her hips and pulls her down on the couch. “Why are you so worked up about this?”
“I’m not worked up.” She fidgets in his grasp. She hates when he tells her she’s worked up, even when he’s sort of right.
“Okay, but why the urgency about Friday? You’ve seen Sabrina practically every other day since the two of you met.”
Molly sighs. She has seen lots of Sabrina lately—they go for coffee, and walks, and Sabrina comes to nearly every Sunday yoga class—but an invitation to dinner at her house feels different. More formal. Plus, Molly has been curious about Sabrina’s husband, a workaholic who hardly comes up for air. She explains as much to Hunter.
“Okay, okay,” he concedes, working his thumbs into the tight spot below her neck. She relaxes into his grip, drops her head forward in relief. “I’ll tell Clark and Tara we’ll see them on Saturday.”
“Thank you, Hunt.” Molly nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of him—beer and aftershave. “Best husband ever,” she says, and she means it. She doesn’t know how she got so lucky with him.
Friday evening, Molly riffles through her closet, contemplating an outfit. White pants and a nice top are what she’d normally choose for an intimate dinner party in Flynn Cove, but something about Sabrina makes her reach for a blue-and-white-striped linen sundress she hasn’t worn in years—a more boho piece she bought with Nina at a boutique they loved in Williamsburg.
Molly’s phone pings from her dresser. A text from Sabrina.
Excited for tonight! One thing—do me a favor, and don’t mention our run-in at Dr. Ricci’s to my hubby. He’s extra sensitive about our fertility issues right now, and I’d rather not open that can of worms … best to just say we met at your yoga class and leave it there, if that’s all right. Anyway, it’s the truth;)
Molly reads the text and smiles knowingly. She understands. Hunter doesn’t like talking about the fertility stuff in public, either.
He lies on their king-size bed reading to Stella, who’s clean from her bath and wearing her favorite unicorn pajamas. Even though her daughter is five—almost six—Molly can’t help but think of her as a baby, especially after bath time when her fine blond hair is combed and her sweet-smelling skin is damp. She’s nestled against Hunter’s chest while he reads The Runaway Bunny, and the sight of them melts Molly’s heart.
“Daddy, read that page again.” Stella kicks her little foot, and Molly can almost acutely remember the magical feeling of that same foot kicking inside her belly.
“Mommy, why are you wearing that dress? Is it new?”
“It’s old, actually.” Molly smooths the skirt. “I wanted to wear something nice because Daddy and I are going out to dinner. That’s why Bridget is coming to babysit you. She’ll be here in fifteen minutes, actually.” Molly looks at Hunter as she says the last part, telepathically ushering him to get out of his gym clothes and into the shower.
Stella’s blue eyes widen, morphing into that trancelike stare that tells Molly her daughter is deep in thought. “So why is it an old dress?”
“I got it with Aunt Nina in New York City, eight or nine years ago, probably.”
“Eight or nine years? I wasn’t born then.”
“You weren’t born then, no.”
“Doesn’t Mommy look beautiful?” Hunter asks Stella, gazing at his wife, the way the dress hugs her body. Her hair is pulled up, a few pieces sprinkling out of the loose knot. A smile spreads across his face as he admires the long, graceful slope of her neck.
“Yeah.” Stella giggles, pulling her little knees into her chest. “Like Elsa.” She starts humming the theme song from Frozen, the movie that has more or less played on repeat in their house for the past three years.
Molly grins. “Okay, Stell. Daddy’s gonna finish The Runaway Bunny, and then he needs to get dressed. Bridget can read you another story when she gets here.”
“Rainbow Fish?” Stella’s expression brightens. “That’s the one Bridget always reads me.”
“That sounds fine.” Molly disappears into the bathroom to finish her makeup. She never wears much, but something about tonight feels special, and she has the desire to look good.