Can't Look Away(69)

Her stomach is tangled with nerves as she pulls the Audi into the parking lot of Skipping Beach. She hasn’t been here much this summer—she typically takes Stella to the beach at the yacht club or to swim at Becky’s pool. The last time she was here was with Sabrina back in May, after the parade. The memory is a soft punch in her gut, and Molly feels a stab of guilt realizing she hasn’t told Sabrina that she’s meeting up with Jake today. The last thing she wants to do is be a shitty friend to the one woman in this town she actually likes. She’ll call Sabrina later, she decides.

Molly spots Jake right away, standing down at the water, ankle deep. Stella follows Molly’s gaze, breaking into a sprint when she sees him, too. He turns, raises a hand in greeting.

When she’s close, he leans in to kiss her cheek. Molly isn’t prepared for this—the slow drag of his stubble across her face combined with the familiar soap-and-pine scent of him unsteadies her. Her legs turn to putty.

Stella has already collected a handful of shells, which she proudly displays for Jake. He crouches to Stella’s level, carefully examining each one.

“This is a beauty.” He fingers a piece of turquoise sea glass. “See how smooth the edges are? This had to be in the ocean for a long, long time to get this soft.”

“How long?” Stella asks, watching Jake closely. “Twenty years?”

He laughs. “Maybe twenty years.”

“Oh.” Stella cocks her hip. “I wasn’t born then. Right, Mom?”

“That’s right, baby.”

Stella looks at Jake. “Did you bring your bathing suit? My mom didn’t bring hers, but she said I could swim, so I’m wearing mine.”

He gestures to his blue swim trunks, which match his eyes. “Duh.” He stands, his shoulders rising in line with Molly’s chin. He’s wearing an old Bob Dylan T-shirt that Molly recognizes instantly—one he used to love to wear onstage. “Good thing we came when we did. Looks like rain later.”

“Yeah. We need it, though. It’s been such a dry summer.” She only knows this because she’s heard Hunter say it.

“Right.” Jake tugs on the brim of his Panthers hat. “So how are you, Moll?”

“Fine. You know, fine.” Molly hates that she stumbles over her words, but being so close to him, she feels physically unstable. “Should we walk? Stella has a playdate at noon, so we can’t stay long.”

“I’m going to my friend Jade’s house,” Stella announces, squinting up at Jake. “She has all the Frozen Barbies. And her name kinda sounds like yours.”

“Off by one letter.” Jake winks. To Molly, he whispers, “Should I know about Frozen Barbies?”

“You will soon enough. If you have a girl, at least.”

Jake gives her a funny look. They start walking down the length of the beach, which is unusually empty for a Sunday. Perhaps the forecast has scared people off. Stella, in tow behind them, stops every few minutes to fill her yellow bucket with more shells.

“You look nice, Moll,” he says, his knuckles inadvertently brushing the edge of her hand.

Molly thanks him, though she knows he’s being generous. She wears jean cutoffs and a thin cotton tee splattered with grease from frying bacon that morning. She didn’t change—mostly because she didn’t want Hunter to think she was trying to look a certain way for Jake. Her wavy hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, the way she wears it when she’s rushing, which is often.

She adjusts her billowy shirt, considering how her style has changed in the years since she and Jake were together. Back then, it was all crop tops and body-con dresses—she and Nina went to American Apparel almost every weekend. Now Molly wouldn’t be caught dead in anything so formfitting.

“And you look … more like the Jake I remember.” She grins, because in his worn tee and cap, he does.

He scrubs a hand through his untamed curls, a small, knowing smile playing over his mouth.

“How’s Sabrina?” Molly asks. She can’t help it. “Does she know you’re meeting me? I mean—not that it’s a secret. I forgot to mention it to her, is all.”

“I didn’t tell her yet, but I will. It’s not a big deal.” Jake hooks a hand around the nape of his neck. “She’s fine, busy this weekend.”

“With work?”

“And redecorating.”

“Right. She mentioned wanting to redo your bedroom.”

“And every room in the house, it seems.” Jake shrugs.

Molly can’t help but laugh. “Look at you, Jake Danner. Married to a woman with a passion for décor.”

“Yeah. The house could look like my college dorm room and I probably wouldn’t notice.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Molly grins. “I guess I could’ve spruced up our place on Driggs a bit.”

“Are you kidding? I loved that place.”

Molly’s heart clenches at the memory of their old apartment, of how it felt to walk in the door and into Jake’s arms every single night. She remembers the tiny kitchen, the distinct smell of it. A blend of spices—the ones Jake cooked with—and those eucalyptus candles she used to buy.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Jake continues. “You made it homey. You got those curtains. Remember the green flowered ones?”