Can't Look Away(72)

Stella shrieks in delight, wriggling her little body in Jake’s strong arms. The sight of it is almost too much for Molly to take.

“Time for a swim, I think.” Jake places Stella down for a moment. He peels off his shirt, then picks her up again, bounding into the water, Stella shrieking with laughter in his grasp.

Molly stands on the shore and watches them, a clamp around her heart. She watches as Stella, in her favorite pink bathing suit, jumps off Jake’s bronzed shoulders and into the sea. She jumps over and over again, squealing with glee each time, Jake securing her ankles as she stands. Molly doesn’t notice the tears in her eyes until Stella and Jake are out of the water, panting with exhaustion, and Stella wraps her arms around Molly’s leg.

“Why are you crying, Mommy?”

It’s the same question Stella asked her in the women’s locker room on the Fourth of July. Molly glances down at her daughter—her perfect baby girl. She smooths her wet, salty hair, gently pinches her tiny earlobe. “I just thought of a memory and it made me sad. But happy sad. Tears can be happy, too.”

Jake looks at Molly then, his irises the same glittering blue that she remembers, the curls she used to run her fingers through dark and damp. He reaches for her hand, and it’s refreshingly cold from the ocean. The three of them stand there like that for a trancelike moment, the waves crashing at their feet. Time is frozen. It is bliss. She wants so badly to let herself bask it in, but something snaps inside her heart.

Molly yanks her hand from Jake’s—she doesn’t want Stella to see—and glances down at the Apple Watch Hunter gave her for her birthday. Pink. Stella picked the color.

“Shoot. It’s quarter of twelve. We gotta go, Stell.” Above them, the sky is filling with thicker clouds, rolling in from the east, a cloak of gray that obscures the sun.

“To Jade’s?” Stella grabs her yellow bucket from where it lies on the sand. She turns to Jake. “You know Jade’s dad makes her butter-and-sugar sandwiches?”

“Butter-and-sugar sandwiches?” Jake’s eyes widen. “Hmm. Sounds nutritious.”

“What’s ‘nutritious’?”

“It means healthy.” Molly takes the bucket from Stella. It’s heavy—full of rocks and shells. “But Jake is joking. Butter and sugar aren’t healthy foods. They’re okay to have once in a while, as a special treat. C’mon, Stell, say goodbye.” She knows she’s rushing, she knows she’s done a terrible job “clearing the air” with Jake like she planned, but she doesn’t care. There’s been a tangible shift in the atmosphere—a riptide looming—and she needs to get out before it sucks her away.

“Bye, Jake.” Stella places her hands on her hips and shifts her weight to one foot. “Are you coming to my birthday party on August twentieth?”

“Oh. I don’t know.” Jake gives a playful grin. “I didn’t get an invitation.”

“Oh. Well, there’s gonna be a pi?ata there. Mom, can he come?” Stella looks up at Molly, her eyes wide and hopeful.

“That’s fine,” Molly answers, her voice strangled. What else is she supposed to say?

“Cool. I’ll be there. I hope you like presents.” Jake holds up his hand, and Stella gives him a high five with her tiny palm, a wide grin cracking across her face. “Bye, Stell,” he calls. “Have fun at Jade’s. Have a butter-and-sugar sandwich for me.”

Molly forces a smile, averting her gaze. She’s afraid if she looks at Jake, she’ll burst into more tears.

She hands Stella a towel, and they walk back down the beach toward the car. Molly wants the shame of the emotions inside her to take over, but all she can feel now is the heavy, dizzying aftermath of being close to him again and the agony of the increasing space between them as she drives away from the beach.

She drops Stella at Jade’s house on the west side of town. She’s grateful that Jade’s mother isn’t home—she’s too debilitated for small talk. She feels detached from her own voice and body as she explains the contents of Stella’s tote bag to the Patels’ nanny—raincoat, a change of clothes, her stuffed rabbit, Mr. Bunny, just in case.

Molly leaves her phone in the car, and when she climbs back in the front seat, she has a new text. The fact that it’s from Jake makes complete sense. Of course. Who else could it be but the person currently occupying all the space in her mind?

The message is a single line. Come back to the beach.

Molly drives there without thinking. She knows she should think, but she doesn’t want to. She is sick of thinking. Instead, she lets herself be pulled by the feelings ballooning inside of her, seeping into every inch of her. It’s so easy.

A drop of rain splatters the windshield as she slows to a stop in the parking lot. The sky is marbled with dense, dark clouds. People are fleeing the beach, covering their heads with towels as they scramble toward the shelter of their cars.

Molly spots Jake in the distance. He’s inside the gazebo, leaning against the rail, staring out over Long Island Sound. She runs to him, tears filling her eyes and spilling down her face. Light rain pricks Molly’s bare arms, but it’s still too humid to be cold. By the time she reaches the gazebo, the beach has cleared. There’s no one left but the two of them.

Jake smiles when he sees her, the edges of his mouth breaking into a laugh. “Everybody is afraid of a little rain.”