Molly reached for her cell. She didn’t love initiating contact with Hunter these days—it gave her a funny feeling knowing that Blair was likely around, noticing her name on his phone. But this was too important. She crafted a text.
Hey. I’m really sorry to bother you while you and Blair are on vacation, but I need to talk to you about what happened a few weeks ago. Whenever you have ten minutes, can you give me a call? I’m in Brooklyn, by the way. Long story.
After she sent the message, Molly took a long shower, letting the hot water pound her back. Then she put on clean pajamas and climbed into bed. When she plugged her phone in to charge on the nightstand, she saw that Hunter had replied.
Happy New Year, Moll. Just back from the Bahamas this afternoon. Yes, of course we can talk. How about tomorrow—walk the waterfront at noon? We’ll grab lunch if it’s too cold.
Molly wrote back instantly, something loosening in her chest.
Perfect. See you tomorrow.
She turned off the bedside light, then huddled underneath the covers and closed her eyes. Molly hated sleeping in the bed without Jake, but she pushed the thought out of her mind. She would get better and better at doing this—pushing the thoughts and feelings that threatened to strangle her away so that there was space for her to breathe, to release herself from the consequences of her choices.
Chapter Thirty-three
Molly
August 2022
Molly’s mind has been so jumbled and preoccupied, she forgets about the blood test at Dr. Ricci’s office until the morning of, when Hunter reminds her.
He hands her a mug of coffee. “So I’ll go in late this morning and stay with Stell while you’re out, yeah? You think you’ll be back by nine?”
She stares at her husband blankly, coils of steam rising in front of her face.
“Moll? ’Cause if it’s gonna be later, that’s fine, but I may have to drop her at my mom’s. I have a meeting at nine thirty.”
Molly fights through the thick layer of muck in her brain to try to remember what Hunter is talking about. It’s Monday. Where is she supposed to be on Monday morning?
Hunter sighs. “Just call me when you leave Dr. Ricci’s, okay?”
Dr. Ricci’s. The blood test. The pregnancy results. Today.
“Yes!” Molly exclaims, an octave too loudly. “No, that’s fine. If I’m not back by nine, drop her at Becky’s on your way to your meeting. But I’ll call you when I’m done, regardless.” She places her coffee on the counter and wraps her arms around Hunter’s neck. “I love you.” She kisses him, inhaling the minty aroma of his freshly shaven face.
The blood test is routine. A fast prick. Molly is all too familiar with the process by now.
Claudia, one of the nurses at the practice, removes the rubber band cinching Molly’s arm and smiles kindly. “Dr. Ricci will call you in a few hours.”
Molly’s heart feels heavy as she leaves the doctor’s office, the August sun beating down in sweltering rays. She is already dreading Dr. Ricci’s call. She doesn’t know how she and Hunter will bear another negative result.
She thinks of Sabrina, then, and wishes so badly that they could talk. But Sabrina still hasn’t replied to any of her texts, and now it’s been almost two weeks since Molly has heard from her. In her gut, Molly knows that something is up. She can’t imagine Jake telling Sabrina what happened between them at Skipping Beach; then again, what else would explain her friend’s silence? Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time Molly has been wrong about Jake Danner. There is only one way to find out for sure.
She climbs into her car and switches the AC on full blast. She touches the tender spot on the inside of her elbow where the needle went in, then digs her phone out of her purse and crafts a text to Hunter.
Just leaving doc, all went fine, they’ll call later. Can you take S to Becky’s after all? I’m going to stop by Sabrina’s. I haven’t seen her in a while and could use a friend right now.
Molly heads west, looping through the beautiful back roads of Flynn Cove. The lush green leaves of the trees envelop the streets, a majestic tunnel. There’s an old John Mellencamp song on the radio that makes Molly nostalgic for something she can’t quite identify. She cranks the volume, sings along.
She’s about to turn onto Sabrina’s road when she spots a familiar blond ponytail. It’s Whitney, pushing a double stroller along the shoulder of the road in big, dark sunglasses.
Molly slows the car to a stop and rolls down her window. She turns down the music.