“What’s going on?” Jake’s eyes dart to Liz. “How do you know Sabrina?”
“You mean Caitlin?”
“Huh?” He folds his arms.
“She told me her name was Caitlin. When she was your groupie.”
“My groupie?”
Liz cocks her head, studying Sabrina intensely, her lips parted in bewilderment. “What the actual fuck?”
Sabrina shrugs, but she looks tense, her gaze growing cold. “You must be confusing me with someone else.”
“No, don’t play that game. I know exactly who you are. You used to follow me around Equinox and ask me about Molly and Jake.”
Sabrina’s eyes narrow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She scowls, glancing toward the bar. “Jake and I are going to get a drink. Excuse me. It was nice to meet you all.”
Jake rubs the back of his neck, staring after his wife, then back at Liz. He looks thoroughly baffled. He gives an uncomfortable shrug, then follows Sabrina.
Molly watches them walk away, then whips her head around. “Liz. What the hell?”
“Molly.” Liz turns to her. She looks like she’s been socked in the stomach. “I know this sounds crazy, especially because we haven’t seen each other in a million years, and I owe you a thousand apologies, but I’m not making this up. That woman—Jake’s wife—she … how do I explain this?” Liz gives her a head a little shake. “She used to go to my gym. We would take Pilates together and sometimes get drinks after, and she said her name was Caitlin. She was, like, a Danner Lane fangirl. Obsessed with Jake. I mentioned the fact that one of my best friends was his girlfriend, and she used to ask me about your relationship.”
“Are you serious, Lizzie?” Nina brings a hand to her mouth.
“No. Wait, Liz.” Molly chews her bottom lip, her mind spinning. “Sabrina wasn’t a Danner Lane fangirl. She dated Jake before I did. Remember Jake’s ex, Sisi?”
“Yeah?”
“Same girl. ‘Sisi’ was an old nickname. She goes by Sabrina now.”
“What?” Liz’s jaw drops even lower, and Molly is caught off guard. The Liz she used to know was hardly fazed by anything. She’s never seen her this flustered.
Everly adjusts her round John Lennon sunglasses on the bridge of her nose. “I’m very confused.”
“Same,” says Nina. “Is she Sabrina, or Sisi, or Caitlin?”
Molly draws in a breath, studying the shock that lingers on Liz’s face. “Are you sure it’s the same person, Lizzie?”
“I’m positive. I would bet my life on it.” She swallows. “I remember because … she gave me weird vibes. Really weird. I was glad when she stopped coming to the gym.”
A sinister feeling wobbles through Molly, pooling in her gut. Regardless of the way Liz has treated her and how far apart they’ve drifted, she knows her old friend wouldn’t lie to her about this. Liz is telling the truth. Molly hears it in her voice.
“And I’ll never forget…” Liz pauses. She swallows and locks her eyes on Molly’s. “The last time I ever saw Caitlin, or whatever her name is, I … told her you were pregnant. And that you and Jake were over.”
The sinister feeling in her gut churns as Molly lets these words land, her mind reaching for their implication.
“It’s still so crazy to me that you’re friends with Jake’s wife,” Everly says.
“Wait. You’re friends with her?” Liz’s eyes grow even wider.
“Moll!” a voice calls, and Molly turns to see Becky striding toward her. She’s holding a platter of chicken fingers. “Can you go get the rest of the food from the kitchen? It’s in the oven. We need to make sure these kids eat.”
Molly nods, then looks back at her friends. “Let’s talk about all this later, okay? After everyone leaves.” She gestures toward the makeshift bar. “Go get a drink. Becky made rum punch—it’s strong.”
Molly trots down the wide slate steps and into the house, her mind a tornado. She can’t possibly process what Liz has just told her about Sabrina—not now, not with how perfect she needs to make this day for Stella.
Still, it’s only half an hour into the party, and she’s already dying for it to be over. She considers mixing herself a stiff gin and tonic, but smiles when she remembers why she can’t. A warm glow spreads through the base of her belly. Molly thinks of the budding life there—her baby—and feels the tension drain from her shoulders. Nothing else matters, not actually.