Can't Look Away(82)
“I doubt it.” Liz cocked her head in thought. “From what I gather, Molly doesn’t plan on telling him. He definitely doesn’t know she got pregnant. Everly swore me to secrecy, so even though part of me would love to throw Molly under the bus, I can’t betray Ev. Plus, it’s not like I actually want to get in the middle of that drama. I’m just pissed at Molly for being so judgmental about my relationship one minute, and then the next, being so sketchy and MIA and not even telling me what was going on with hers.” A wounded expression darkened Liz’s face, and I could tell that despite her tipsy bravado, she was genuinely hurting.
“I’m sorry. I’d be pissed, too.” I nodded empathetically. “What was your fight about? Something to do with Zander, you said?”
Liz waved her hand. “It’s not worth getting into the details.” She stared past my shoulder, her eyes glazed over. “She’s just changed, you know? Molly used to be so easygoing and really secure in herself. She’s become kind of a hypocrite, honestly. She was so quick to judge my life, my relationship, even though her own has been way more fucked up.”
“What do you mean?” I probed, trying to streamline the endless questions whirling around inside my head. “How is she a hypocrite?”
Liz’s eyes narrowed. She studied me skeptically, and I knew I’d crossed a line. I’d made the mistake of sounding more interested in Molly than I was in her.
Liz said nothing for a moment, ripping the edge of her cocktail napkin. When she spoke, something in her voice had shifted. The gossipy air between us had turned. “I’m tipsy. I haven’t eaten since lunch. I need to go pick up some dinner.”
“Why don’t we order food here?” I loathed myself for sounding so desperate.
Liz shook her head. “I told Zander I’d eat at home with him. Sorry.” She stood, poking her arms into her Moncler jacket—the same silver puffer she’d worn the first day I laid eyes on her. “You should finish the wine, or bring the bottle home. You have Venmo? Charge me for half.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I bit my bottom lip, overcome with an anxious, heavy feeling of helplessness. I couldn’t afford to scare Liz off. Not now. Not with all that was still at stake. “Erin’s class next week?”
“I’m traveling for work, actually.” Liz slung her leather tote bag over her shoulder. “But I’ll see you around the gym at some point. And, Caitlin? Don’t mention what I just told you to anyone. Seriously.”
“Of course! I mean, I would never.” I swallowed the lump in my throat, filled with both annoyance and awe as I watched her leave the restaurant. Liz was someone who did as she pleased without weighing the consequences; she didn’t worry about the implications of being brusque or dismissive. She was kind of a bitch, and she knew it and was fine with it. I admired that quality in her, Molly. I found it oddly inspiring. It’s funny to think that the two of you were once such close friends. You really have nothing in common at all.
Over the next several months, whenever I ran into Liz at the gym, I made a point of not mentioning you or Jake. I didn’t want to look like a weirdo. But what I didn’t know—and what I desperately needed to find out—was whether or not you’d kept the baby. After all, the timeline as Liz had explained it was rather vague. It was unclear how far along you were in your pregnancy when Liz had gotten wind of the news. Perhaps you were only in your first trimester then; it was possible that you’d still been weighing your options.
I was all too familiar with the excruciating disappointment of believing you and Jake had split, only to discover you were back together and more in love than ever. If you hadn’t gone through with the pregnancy, perhaps you’d decided to ditch this Hunter character and were already back in Jake’s arms. Or perhaps you and Jake were really done, this time for good.
But Jake’s Instagram revealed nothing. Except for concert and tour photos, he’d barely been updating it. He hadn’t posted a photo of you since December (a black-and-white shot of you laughing at the camera, captioned: Every time I sing #MollysSong, I sing it for her. Gross, Jake).
Finally, one evening in June, post Pilates, when I could no longer stand the not knowing, I asked Liz if she wanted to grab a drink.
“It’s been a while,” I said casually as we gathered our gym bags and laced up our sneakers on the bench outside the studio. “And I’m dying for one of those skinny margs from El Toro.”
One side of Liz’s mouth curled. “Actually, same. And it’s nice out. They have a sweet terrace.”
I waited until we were on our second round of margaritas to bring up the subject that had been stuck in the center of my mind for months.
“By the way, what ever happened with your friend? The one who got pregnant?” I spoke tentatively, praying Liz would fail to detect the apprehension in my voice.
She laughed softly, sliding her finger along the rim of her glass to brush off the salt. “I’m surprised it took you so long to ask. If you’re so in love with Jake Danner, maybe you should just go for it.”
A layer of fizz prickled my skin, a warm current rising underneath. “So they’re still broken up?”
“Apparently.” Liz shrugged, sipping her drink.
“And she’s still pregnant? They’re definitely not together? Because you said that last time, and they hadn’t actually broken up for good.” These were the questions that had been circling for weeks in my mind, but I hadn’t meant to actually say them out loud. My hand flew to my mouth.