Can't Look Away(46)
She knew that she wouldn’t spend another night in Everly’s apartment. The war inside her was over; her head finally agreed with her heart.
The shower door opened, pulling Molly out of the memory and snapping her back to the present. The wonderful, miraculous present. She felt Jake’s hands slip around her midsection as he stepped under the water stream behind her, pressing his mouth against the back of her neck. It was chemical, their sex, and she’d missed it just as much—if not more—than all the other parts of them.
“I’m glad you followed me in there,” Molly said as they lay on the bed afterward, their clean, damp limbs tangled. Afternoon light the color of lemons flooded through the sheer blinds.
Jake kissed her forehead, which he almost always did after they had sex. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you, too.”
“Hey, Moll?”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s have a really, really good summer.”
And they did. A dozen of their friends went in on a share house in Amagansett, and Molly and Jake went out there whenever Danner Lane didn’t have a weekend show. It was a summer filled with beach days, barbecues, sunset cocktails on the deck, nights out in Montauk, Saturday morning trips to the farmers’ market, and good friends.
Jake brought Hale, Sam, and Caroline out when there was space, and on those weekends, the nights always ended with the boys playing music around the fire, Jake and Sam strumming their acoustics and Hale making drums out of upside-down Tupperware.
“A private Danner Lane concert in my own backyard!” Cash would declare, drunk and gleeful, cracking open his millionth beer of the day and night. Nina would wrap her arms around his neck and roll her eyes. They were adorable, Nina and Cash, and even though they’d been together awhile—just as long as Molly and Jake—it still made Molly smile to see her best friend so deliriously happy.
All summer, girls ogled Jake wherever they went. They stared shamelessly, asking for autographs and pictures.
“That would annoy the shit out of me,” Liz remarked one afternoon at the Surf Lodge, when a flock of blondes in bikini tops and shorts swarmed Jake, begging for a group photo.
But it didn’t bother Molly. Despite all they’d been through, she trusted him, and in her gut, she knew their love was strong—hadn’t it already been tested? Besides, Jake made it clear to the world that he was taken; he said so in interviews, he posted about it on social media, he kissed her in public. She was Molly of “Molly’s Song,” and she knew from the shameless way they studied her that the fangirls were jealous.
Labor Day weekend, the Amagansett house was full and Danner Lane didn’t have any shows, so Molly and Jake took a road trip. Their first stop was New Jersey to see Molly’s mother and Andrew. Molly was a bit nervous about how her mom would react—she was still dubious of Jake after what they’d been through the previous winter—but the visit went better than expected. Molly showed Jake around Denville—her favorite breakfast spot, the pool where she’d spent three summers as a lifeguard, the park where she and Rachel and their crew got drunk in high school. Molly wished she could introduce Jake to Rachel, but her old best friend had moved to Colorado for college and still lived out west, and they’d done a surprisingly terrible job of keeping in touch. It made Molly sad to think about this. Rachel was someone she’d always assumed she’d be friends with forever.
At night, Molly and Jake slept in the twin beds in her pink childhood room. Her mother grilled swordfish and fresh summer corn and asked Jake all about life as a famous musician.
After dinner, Jake and Andrew went into the den to watch tennis, and Molly helped her mom with the dishes.
“He seems devoted to you, Moo.”
“Thank you for saying that, Mom. He is.”
“Just don’t get ahead of yourself, okay?”
“What do you mean?” Molly placed a handful of silverware in the sink.
“It’s only been a year and a half, with a rocky patch in the middle.” She handed her daughter a pot to dry. “Just keep your wits about you. People change, especially when they’re young and have dreams.” Her mother blinked, and Molly noticed a new batch of lines around the corners of her caramel eyes, and the thick gray roots that had yet to be dyed blond. At fifty, her mother was still an attractive woman—she always had been—but Molly hadn’t noticed these signs of aging until recently.
Molly could only assume her mother was insinuating something about her father—when she made comments like that, she almost always was. And Molly’s father had been young when he left—only thirty-three. The older she’d gotten, the more Molly realized that she barely knew anything about her father, except that he’d been a writer at heart and that his dreams had been thwarted.
The next morning, Jake and Molly packed up the car and headed farther south, toward North Carolina. It had been Molly’s idea to visit Jake’s hometown, and she’d pressed when he’d resisted.
“We’ve been living together for over a year, and I still haven’t met your parents,” she’d challenged.
“You don’t want to meet my parents, Moll.” Jake had sighed. “My mom is … she’s very conservative. She doesn’t really have a lot to say. And my dad, well … I’m surprised he’s still around, to be honest.”