Molly’s eyes fill with tears; she blinks them back. Jake steps toward her, so close that the edge of his hand brushes hers, her skin burning all over from the single spot of his touch. Just then, the first firework sounds in the distance. An explosive pop. Around them everyone oohs and aahs and shuffles to make their way toward the first hole, where families are setting up Crazy Creek chairs and picnic blankets to watch the show.
Stella springs to her feet, discarding her half-eaten stick of cotton candy. She grabs hold of her mother’s leg with sticky fingers as Molly backs away from Jake, the intensity of the moment between them dissipating as quickly as it arrived.
“Mom!” Stella points to the sky, her gaze wide-eyed with wonder. “Fireworks!”
“I need to take her to wash her hands.” Molly turns away from Jake. Has he seen her cry? God, she hopes not. But she feels him watching her, his eyes full of concern.
“We’ll meet you over there,” he says. “Sisi—Sabrina, I mean—she’s got a big, checkered picnic blanket. Look for that.”
Molly doesn’t realize how fast her heart is beating until she and Stella reach the quiet of the women’s locker room. It’s peaceful in here, smelling of lavender and baby powder. She checks the mirror; her mascara is smudged below her eyes. She dabs at it with a tissue.
“Why are you crying, Mommy?” Stella rinses her hands in the sink, her little knuckles still dimpled with baby fat.
“Jake—my friend who likes cotton candy—was telling me a sad story.” Molly hands her a paper towel.
“What’s the story?”
“I’ll tell you later, okay? We don’t want to miss the fireworks. But I’m all better now.”
“Good.” Stella takes her mother’s hand as they leave the locker room, and Molly is in awe of her daughter’s sweetness, her pure-hearted compassion. “Hey, Mommy?”
“Yeah?”
“I like Jake.”
Molly smiles, her throat full of tears again. “Me, too, baby.” She squeezes Stella’s hand. “Me, too.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Sabrina
It was a nice evening we had on the Fourth of July, don’t you think? I can tell you were genuinely worried about your history with Jake getting in the way of our friendship. That’s sweet, Molly, it really is. I’m touched you’ve grown so fond of me.
I’m sorry about downplaying your relationship with Jake—I saw the way your face fell when Meredith called it a “fling”—but really, your ego could use a good check. It’s a bit presumptuous to walk around assuming you’re the love of everyone’s life.
Anyway, I’m glad you and Hunter were able to join us. It is a bit snobbish, the whole country club thing, isn’t it? My grandparents never belonged to the FCCC, by the way. They didn’t even live in Flynn Cove, or Connecticut for that matter. I never actually met my grandparents—all four were already dead by the time I was born. The closest thing I had to a grandmother was my great-aunt Lenore, my maternal grandfather’s sister. She was a gem. She lived an hour from us in Miami, but she used to pick me up on the weekends and take me to South Beach for lunch, or to play mini golf—activities that never would have crossed either of my parents’ minds. For my tenth birthday, Lenore took me to the aquarium, and we went swimming with dolphins. Her house was much smaller than ours, but it was cheery and cozy and smelled like beeswax candles. Lenore smelled like beeswax, too. Her hands were always warm. She died of a stroke when I was thirteen.
Anyway, I only lied about my grandparents belonging to the club so you wouldn’t think I was as pretentious as those women like Meredith Duffy and Betsy Worthington, who you can’t seem to stand.
The truth is, I did want to join the FCCC. And not because I care about status—I don’t, not actually. What I do care about is family. Children. The memory of the blood in the toilet, of the violent river running down my legs, is forever imprinted in my mind and heart, a loss I’ve never really gotten over.
So yes, you and Jake had a bit more than a fling. I’ll admit that you inspired his music more than I ever did, fine. But Jake and I created a baby together, for fuck’s sake, and that’s more than you can say, Molly. And I know that we are meant to create more; I feel this in my gut, in my bones. It’s our destiny to build a family together, a real family, the kind neither of us were born into. Most people don’t know the loneliness of not being loved by their own parents. But Jake and I—we do. It’s part of our pull on each other the way we fill a mutual void you will never understand.