Can't Look Away(86)

She felt too sick to eat. She managed a few sips of coffee and water before heading to Bhakti, where she taught two back-to-back power flows in a trance. Molly was technically supposed to wait half an hour after class before leaving the studio, but Veronica found her slumped behind the front desk, her back against the watercooler.

“You look like shit.” Veronica was never one to beat around the bush.

“Ugh.” Molly rubbed her temples. “I don’t feel so hot, V.”

“Go home.” The studio manager patted her shoulder. “You leave for your big trip tomorrow, anyway, right? You should go pack.”

Back at the apartment, Molly didn’t bother changing out of her sweaty yoga clothes before crawling into bed. She curled into a ball under the covers, seized by her own helplessness, her own visceral agony. Where the fuck was Jake? At first, she had felt guilty for getting so drunk on Saturday night, then angry when he didn’t return any of her calls, but now, she was starting to grow genuinely concerned. Had something happened? She knew how hard the band partied on tour. Jake didn’t do drugs often, but he experimented every now and then. Coke, mushrooms, even acid once or twice when Hale was involved. Maybe someone had overdosed. The thought turned her blood cold.

When he finally called just after six, Molly thought the sight of his name on her phone was an apparition.

“Jake?” Her voice was barely a whisper. She was a shred of herself.

“Moll.” Jake sounded winded, like he’d been running. “I’m so sorry. Holy shit. Please listen to me. We just checked into our hotel in Munich and my charger finally works here. The fucking Swiss outlets! Did you know the outlets in Switzerland are different from every other country in Europe?”

Molly screwed her eyes shut, fighting back tears of relief, of devastated fury. Jake hadn’t overdosed. He’d ignored her for five days, but he was perfectly fucking fine.

“Are you kidding me, Jake? Do you have any idea what I’ve been … what the hell?”

“Molly, it was out of my control—”

“Out of your control? You could’ve found an adapter. You could’ve borrowed a phone. You could have emailed. There’s literally an endless number of things you could’ve done that you didn’t do.” How could she explain to him how terrible this feigned helplessness of his made her feel? A line that Veronica used in her classes popped into her head: We accept the love we think we deserve.

Was this the love she thought she deserved? A partner who was reliable and attentive some of the time, but not when he didn’t feel like it? A man who heedlessly put his needs and dreams and desires before her own, time and time again? That was the problem with her love for Jake, Molly realized. Her feelings for him were so sheer and annihilating that she couldn’t see him clearly at all.

“I’m so sorry, Moll. I just—it’s been so insanely busy over here, I feel like I haven’t had a minute to breathe.” He paused, and Molly heard the sound of a keyboard clicking. “Check your email. I just forwarded you everything. You fly out of JFK tomorrow at ten thirty. American Airlines.”

“I’m not coming, Jake.” She hadn’t meant to say it, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she knew they were true. She couldn’t get on that plane.

“What?”

“I’m not coming.”

“Molly, don’t do this.”

“Me, Jake? You’re the one who did this. I can’t be in a relationship that’s completely on your terms.”

“On my terms? What does that even mean? I fucked up, and I’m really sorry. But don’t let this ruin the next two weeks for both of us. Please. Just get on the plane. Come to Munich, and we’ll figure everything out.”

“No.” Molly shook her head into the phone. She closed her eyes, hot tears slipping through. They streamed down her cheeks.

“Think about Christmas in Paris,” he pressed, his voice weak, pleading. “The Eiffel Tower, dinner in Montmartre, the Louvre. We said we’d see it all together.”

“Jake, I haven’t heard from you in almost a week. I’ve been desperately trying to contact you. Saturday night—” Molly’s breath caught in her throat. There was a crack in her heart, but she couldn’t say the words. What was the point in telling him? She knew, in her gut, the only way forward.

“What? What happened?”

She brushed it off. “It’s nothing. I got really drunk at Nina’s party. I was hungover and anxious on Sunday, and I kept trying to reach you.”

“I’m so sorry. Look, I know I messed up, but please just cut me a break. You know me, you know I’m bad with my phone, especially on tour—”

“Just stop, Jake. Stop saying you’re ‘bad with your phone,’ like that’s an excuse for making me feel so shitty. I was seriously worried. I was freaking out. Did you ever stop to think that I was actually terrified something might’ve happened to you?”

“Like what, though? Don’t you get that it’s just chaos over here? That we’re all swamped?”

Molly swallowed the lump in her throat. She was brimming with anger. “I know Maxine is there.” She couldn’t help herself.

“Yeah, because I told you Maxine is here. I never tried to hide that. And there’s nothing going on between Maxine and me, so it really doesn’t fucking matter!”