Can't Look Away(81)
I tried not to ask Liz about you and Jake too often, if I could help it. But she was under the impression that I was a Danner Lane fangirl, and so it was a subject I could afford to bring up semi-regularly during our get-togethers, though she never offered many specific updates.
“Jake’s just so self-involved,” she’d sometimes mutter in response to my questions, never really elaborating when I pressed her for the reason.
As the months passed, Jake’s Instagram revealed that the two of you were fully back together. Epic summer with the love of my life, he captioned a September 2014 selfie of your sun-kissed faces on an unspecified beach. Meanwhile, I threw myself into work. I got promoted again—this time to senior merchandise planner—a role in which I managed a group of twenty. I was excellent at my job, Molly—I don’t like to fail, and I’d gone the extra mile at Marc Jacobs since the moment I started there. My boss, a fortysomething divorcée named Portia, considered me her right-hand woman. She’d brought me to Paris and Milan for Fashion Week every year I’d been at the company, while many of my colleagues had never gotten to go. During my darkest days, the ones when I pined for Jake so badly I thought I might split in two, my career was the one place where I felt in control.
Debbie suggested I find a hobby, which made me laugh out loud. Did she expect me to take up knitting? Pottery? Do I seem like the kind of woman who has hobbies, Molly?
Elena pestered me about dating; she said I had to stop wallowing and get back out there. To prove her wrong, I let a guy buy me dinner once every couple of months. But none of them excited me—none of them were Jake—and I always left these bland, tedious dates freshly reminded of the person who was no longer mine.
But then, one day in 2016, everything changed. It was late March, the city still chilly but alive with the promise of spring—fat red buds sprouting on the branches of maple trees, the friendly sight of daffodils. Liz and I were splitting a bottle of wine after a particularly challenging Pilates session with Erin.
“Thank God Lent ended last weekend,” she said, ordering an overpriced bottle of Sancerre. “I gave up booze this year.”
“Oh, wow.” I drummed my fingers on the stained wood surface of the table, excited for the wine. “Are you religious?”
“Meh. My grandmother is super Catholic. She always asks what I’m giving up for Lent, and I feel guilty lying. She’s, like, ninety-three, but calls me more than either of my parents.” The waitress poured us two large glasses and placed the bottle in the cooler on our table. Liz snatched hers up. “But I really need this drink, after the week I’ve had.”
“Work issues?” I pinched the stem of my glass and took a generous sip.
“Nah. Work is fine.” She pursed her lips as if considering something important. She seemed in a chattier mood than usual. “You’ll find this interesting, actually, seeing how obsessed you are with Jake Danner.”
My ears perked up. “I’m not obsessed with Jake Danner,” I said, perhaps too defensively.
“Then why are you constantly asking about him and my friend Molly?” The corners of Liz’s mouth twitched—a small, knowing smile. She flicked her wrist. “Anyway, I have a juicy piece of gossip that I’m not even supposed to know, but it’s too outrageous not to share with someone. So it’s your lucky day.”
I took another sip of wine, every cell in my body brimming with anticipation.
Liz dug her elbows into the table, leaning forward. “So a few months ago—I guess it was New Year’s Day, actually—Molly showed up at my apartment. She seemed upset, she’d been fighting with Jake, and she wanted to talk. But we got into this really awkward argument—she laid into me about my relationship with Zander and was just acting totally bizarre—and then she stormed out. And we haven’t talked since.”
“Really? That’s weird.”
“Right? So anyway, I kept asking our other friends what the hell was going on with Molly—like, was she even okay, I legit hadn’t heard from her at all—and no one would give me a straight answer. And then finally, two nights ago, my friend Everly came over for dinner, and we were drinking, and I wrangled it out of her.” Liz drew in a breath. “Turns out, Molly is pregnant.”
I nearly spat out the Sancerre. “Oh my god.”
“No, Caitlin, it gets even more insane. Are you ready for this?” Liz rested her hands on the table, her dark eyes growing wide. “Jake isn’t the father.”
The room froze. My mind spun rapidly, a tornado gathering speed. It took me several seconds to process her words, several more to speak. “What?”
“That’s right.” Liz tipped the rest of the wine in her glass down her throat. “She and Jake broke up, apparently—I had no idea. I guess she dumped him when he got back from his big tour in Europe a few weeks ago. He’d been gone for months. And this other guy, the dude who knocked her up? Hunter something. Molly is with him now.”
“Holy shit. So wait—she was cheating on Jake?”
“Yup.” Liz plucked the bottle of Sancerre from the wine cooler and refilled our glasses. A little sloshed over the rim of hers, dribbling down the outside of the bowl. “All those months Jake was away, and she never even told him there was someone else.”
“Oh my god. So Jake doesn’t even know about this other guy?”