Stella turns to Molly, tilting her chin. “Mommy, can I get cotton candy now?”
“I think now is the perfect time for cotton candy, Stell.”
“Does he want to come?” Stella looks at Jake. “Cotton candy is his favorite food, too.”
Jake laughs—a deep belly laugh that jostles a collection of memories loose from Molly’s subconscious.
“I’d love to, Stella,” he tells her. “Thank you.”
“That Meredith woman is a real twat,” Jake says five minutes later, shoving a massive section of cotton candy into his mouth.
“Shh.” Molly gestures down at Stella, but her daughter is fully invested in her dessert and not paying them much attention. She glances back at Jake. “How did she even know we had … history?”
Jake swallows. “Maybe Sisi mentioned it at some point?”
“I didn’t realize they were close friends.” Molly feels vulnerable and strange, like she’s back in middle school.
He shrugs. “Those women are always gossiping by the pool. Sometimes Sisi sits with them.”
“Really? I didn’t think Sabrina spent much time at the club pool.” Molly’s stomach flips. She feels ridiculous—she’s thirty-two years old. Why does she care who Sabrina is friends with? And why in God’s name is she talking to Jake about this?
“I’m not sure.” He shrugs again. “I’ve been working every weekend.”
Molly tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear. This is the first time, she realizes, that they are somewhat close to being alone. They’ve drifted away from the cotton candy cart, away from the crowds. “Right. The new album.” She smiles. “That’s wonderful, Jake. That you’re making music again.”
“Yeah.” He nods. “It is, Moll.” She at once resents and cherishes the fact that it’s so easy for him to call her Moll, as if no time has passed since their carefree, lovebird days on Driggs.
“She’s got spunk,” he says, nodding his head in Stella’s direction. “Just like her mom.”
They glance at Stella, who is plopped down on the grass, elatedly dissecting her massive pillow of pink-and-blue puffed sugar.
“I don’t know if I have as much spunk as I used to, Jake.”
“And why’s that, Moll?”
Her shoulders drop. “Life, I guess.”
“You look the same, you know.”
Molly laughs. “That’s something a woman in her thirties will always appreciate hearing. But you seem the same, too, mostly,” she adds. “Except your Southern accent is hardly there at all anymore. And the preppy garb is new. The Jake I remember lived in sweats and unwashed tees.”
“I was pretty grubby, wasn’t I? My tortured artist days. Sisi’s had a big influence on my … attire. Though you know I could wear a paper bag and be happy.”
“A paper bag? Not here at the club?” One side of Molly’s mouth curls.
“I would do it in a heartbeat if I could spare Sisi the embarrassment. Give these folks something to talk about.” Jake swallows his last bite of cotton candy. Behind them, the sun is a stripe of neon slipping behind the horizon. Dusk is falling, a slight chill in the air now. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? That we both ended up in a fancy suburb, married to rich people. Who woulda thought?”
“Hunter isn’t rich, Jake.” Molly shoots him a look. “Not like Sabrina, anyway. I mean, his mom has some money—she helps us, sometimes. But mostly we’re trying to save, for college and stuff.”
Jake shakes his head contritely. “I’m sorry. That was presumptuous of me.”
“It’s all right. Truthfully, Flynn Cove has changed since Hunter grew up here. From the way he describes it, the town used to be more laid-back—nice, but definitely not as ritzy.”
Jake nods. “I guess that makes sense, with all the hedge funds out here now.”
Molly can’t help but smile. “I’m surprised you know where the hedge funds are, Jake.”
He gives a goofy grin. “I’m very corporate these days.” A few beats of silence pass. Jake blinks. “There are so many things I want to ask you,” he says. “I don’t even know where to start.”
Goose bumps prickle Molly’s skin all over. She glances down at the ground, at the short, evenly mowed grass. Finally, she looks up. She finds Jake’s eyes. “What would be your top three?”
He juts out his bottom lip, considering. “One, are you happy here? Two, why did you stop writing? And three…” He pauses, locking her gaze. “Why did you leave without saying goodbye?”