Can't Look Away(58)
One evening in late January, Molly trekked to the Upper West Side for the launch party of a novel written by her friend Anya from NYU. The book was a literary thriller that had already been optioned for television and lauded by The New York Times. Refilling her wine at the makeshift bar, Molly heard a female voice speak her name.
“… and have you seen the stuff Molly Diamond is writing for Cosmo? Complete trash—makes me cringe! Apparently, she’s working on a novel. Bet it’s total junk, too. Weird that she never told any of us she was trying to publish. It’s like she thinks she’s better than everyone because she dates that famous singer now. You know, the hot one. He has to be cheating on her.”
Cheap Merlot sloshed over the rim of Molly’s plastic cup. She turned around to see Shannon Jennings—a girl from her workshop at NYU—gossiping with another classmate she recognized. Shannon’s face froze, except for her jaw, which fell to the floor.
“Excuse me, Shannon.” Molly rushed by her. It didn’t matter how much she willed back the tears—they were tight in her throat, moments away.
“Molly, sorry, I didn’t recognize you with your hair pulled—”
But Molly didn’t hear the rest. She set her wine down on the nearest table and beelined for the exit. She wished she could’ve retorted with something cool—the kind of biting remark Liz or Everly would’ve made—but Molly had never been great with quips or confrontation.
She felt a stab of guilt for leaving without saying goodbye to Anya or the handful of others she’d kept in touch with from grad school, but she was already wiping her eyes by the time she made it out onto the street. Shannon’s words played in her head on the long subway ride back to Brooklyn. Molly didn’t know how to stop them from hitting her rawest nerve, the one that cracked her wide open. The only place she could think to recover was in the manuscript, and so that’s where she went when she finally reached her apartment. Jake wasn’t home. She didn’t know where he was or what time to expect him back—he’d left for the studio in the morning, and they hadn’t spoken all day.
Molly opened her computer and stared at the document that had consumed so much of her life—years, at that point. Her heart and soul poured into ninety-seven thousand words. This was it. Shannon’s voice echoed in her mind again: Bet it’s total junk, too.
Molly laughed out loud to no one, a hollow sound bouncing around her rib cage. Needs probably was total junk. Jake probably was cheating on her. Her father probably was flourishing wherever he’d landed, his life rich and whole without her. Molly poured herself a glass of wine and sat in this sad, cynical moment, almost basking in the pain of it. She drank half the bottle in bed, and when Jake got home, she pretended to be asleep. She knew he’d be stressed and eager to vent, and she was tired of being his punching bag.
That’s why, on a particularly dismal Tuesday in February when Molly was working at her favorite coffee shop on Grand Street, pointlessly dissecting Needs for the trillionth time, she didn’t mind it when a tall, good-looking man in slacks and a navy overcoat approached her table. His thick hair was dark and neatly combed, his complexion pale—the physical opposite of Jake, she noted, except for his height. The café was packed; he gestured to the seat across from hers and asked if it was taken. Molly shook her head.
He sat down and unpacked his briefcase, but not before extending a strong, sturdy hand, chilled from the cold outside.
“I’m Hunter,” he said, his voice kind. His brown eyes were disarming, and strangely familiar.
Chapter Twenty-four
Molly
July 2022
Molly’s phone vibrates on the counter, teetering across the kitchen island like a beetle on its back. She’s busy scrambling eggs for Stella and lets the call go to voicemail.
“But do you really think we can get an Elsa cake and an Elsa pi?ata, Mommy?”
Stella has been asking questions about her upcoming Frozen-themed birthday party for weeks. No, months.
“I think anything is possible, Stell.” Molly touches the end of her daughter’s button nose. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
Stella drops her chin into her hand, a wistful sheen blooming in her eyes. She’s such a little dreamer. Molly hopes that will never change.
She slides the plate of eggs and buttered toast in front of Stella and picks up her phone.
One missed call from a number she recognizes instantly, and not just because of the North Carolina area code. She memorized Jake’s number years ago. Molly’s heart bounces in her chest. Did he know hers by heart, too? Or did he still have it saved in his phone? Or get it from Sabrina? There’s no voicemail. Why did he just call her?
Hunter trots down the stairs, and Molly flips her phone facedown on the counter. He gives her a quick kiss, and she inhales the familiar menthol smell of his aftershave. His eyes move over her with concern.
“How are you feeling?” he whispers so Stella doesn’t hear. It’s the day after Molly and Hunter’s latest embryo transfer, their sixth to date. The last embryo left from this round.
“Fine. Nervous. A little tired.”
“Just take it easy today, okay?” He gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze and turns to Stella. “Ready to go, squirt?”
Molly adjusts his tie. “She needs to have a few more bites.”