Can't Look Away(79)
“Say you love me, too.”
“I do love you, Jake. You know that.” But for the first time since she’d made the decision to forgive him last spring, she let herself wonder: What if their love wasn’t enough?
Chapter Thirty
Molly
August 2022
“I can’t believe any of this.” Everly cups her hands to her face, staring at Molly in disbelief.
“I know.” Molly nods. She’s just finished telling them about what happened with Jake at Skipping Beach. “I’m going to hell.”
“But, like … it’s Jake.” Nina stirs a packet of turbinado sugar into her latte.
The three of them are having coffee at Gwen’s after Molly sent an urgent group text calling for an emergency meeting. Nina and Everly offered to drive out to Flynn Cove since they can both get away with being “remote” on Fridays. Plus, it’s August. Half their colleagues are on vacation.
“Seriously, Molly.” Nina eyes her. “How were you supposed to not kiss Jake?”
“Well, I’m married, for starters.” Molly takes her nerves out on her napkin, which is shredded to bits.
“Yeah, and I’m engaged, and I love the shit out of Michael, but if Cash came running back into my life and told me he’d never stopped loving me and came on to me, well…” Nina sighs dramatically. “I’d be fucked.”
Nina’s empathy is one of the qualities Molly loves most in her. Everly isn’t judgmental in the slightest, but she doesn’t have a Jake or a Cash—Sage was her first love. Nina is the only person who actually understands the intensity—the impossibility—of Molly’s situation.
“Do you still think about Cash?”
“Of course. Not as much as I used to, but I still think about what would’ve happened if he hadn’t taken that job in LA. If all those miles hadn’t pushed us apart. But then I think about Michael and how if he’d had to take a job in LA, we would’ve made it work, because he’s Michael. Because he doesn’t have communication issues and he’s the person I’m meant to be with. Doesn’t mean I don’t still have a weak spot for Cash. It’s a chemical thing, really.”
“Totally chemical.” Molly sighs. “It’s like I lose control of my body when Jake is around.”
“I think it’s normal.”
“Is it, though? Hunter’s baby could be in my uterus as we speak.”
Everly gives Molly a hopeful smile, her slate-blue eyes filling with tenderness. “I have a good feeling about this time.”
“Me, too,” Nina concurs. “You find out next week?”
“Monday.” Molly picks at her muffin. She has no appetite. “Ugh, I need to talk to Hunter about what happened. My guilt is making me sick.”
“You do.” Everly nods. “But wait until you get the pregnancy results back. You don’t need the added stress.”
“Agreed.” Nina holds up a crumbling piece of her blueberry scone. “Okay, side note, but please tell me how this pastry cost eight dollars? It’s not even warm.”
Molly rolls her eyes. “That’s Flynn Cove for you.” She glances around the café’s refined interior—pale wood tables, shiny walnut floors, tasteful art on the bright white walls. A Maggie Rogers song plays through the built-in speakers, the sound quality pristine. Molly lowers her voice. “Couldn’t you tell walking in here that you were about to get ripped off?”
“Seriously.” Everly—ever the health nut—rakes a plastic fork through her quinoa salad. “Last time I pay fifteen bucks for a tiny container of grains.”
Molly raises an eyebrow. “Please, Ev. Dumbo is the capital of overpriced salads.”
“Yeah, and they actually taste good!”
“Ugh, you guys.” Molly laughs, despite herself. “Thanks for coming all the way out here. You’re saints.”
“You act like we made some epic journey.” Nina crosses her legs.
“Yeah, Flynn Cove is only an hour drive, Moll. That’s basically as long as it takes me to get to Nina’s, now that she and Michael live on the Upper East Side.” Everly makes a face, and Molly laughs again.
“Don’t knock it, Ev. There’s a gay bar around the corner from our apartment.”
Everly rolls her eyes. “I would love to see the crowd that place draws. The closeted homosexuals of Park Avenue.”
Nina giggles, conceding. “You’re right. I totally miss Brooklyn.”
“Not as much as I miss Brooklyn.” Molly sighs wistfully. Over Everly’s shoulder, she spots Betsy Worthington ordering at the counter. Betsy wears tennis whites, her limbs deeply tanned, her chestnut ponytail swinging. They make eye contact, and Molly gives a small wave. Betsy frowns, pretends not to see her, then turns back to the register.
“What’s up her butt?” Nina whispers, observing the interaction.
Molly waits till Betsy retrieves her iced coffee and is headed toward the exit.
“That woman hasn’t spoken to me since we showed up to the country club fireworks wearing the same dress.”
Everly laughs so loud the barista looks over. “Sorry,” she says, tucking a blond lock behind her ear. “I was momentarily transported back to seventh grade.”