“Yeah. We need it, though. It’s been such a dry summer.” She only knows this because she’s heard Hunter say it.
“Right.” Jake tugs on the brim of his Panthers hat. “So how are you, Moll?”
“Fine. You know, fine.” Molly hates that she stumbles over her words, but being so close to him, she feels physically unstable. “Should we walk? Stella has a playdate at noon, so we can’t stay long.”
“I’m going to my friend Jade’s house,” Stella announces, squinting up at Jake. “She has all the Frozen Barbies. And her name kinda sounds like yours.”
“Off by one letter.” Jake winks. To Molly, he whispers, “Should I know about Frozen Barbies?”
“You will soon enough. If you have a girl, at least.”
Jake gives her a funny look. They start walking down the length of the beach, which is unusually empty for a Sunday. Perhaps the forecast has scared people off. Stella, in tow behind them, stops every few minutes to fill her yellow bucket with more shells.
“You look nice, Moll,” he says, his knuckles inadvertently brushing the edge of her hand.
Molly thanks him, though she knows he’s being generous. She wears jean cutoffs and a thin cotton tee splattered with grease from frying bacon that morning. She didn’t change—mostly because she didn’t want Hunter to think she was trying to look a certain way for Jake. Her wavy hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, the way she wears it when she’s rushing, which is often.
She adjusts her billowy shirt, considering how her style has changed in the years since she and Jake were together. Back then, it was all crop tops and body-con dresses—she and Nina went to American Apparel almost every weekend. Now Molly wouldn’t be caught dead in anything so formfitting.
“And you look … more like the Jake I remember.” She grins, because in his worn tee and cap, he does.
He scrubs a hand through his untamed curls, a small, knowing smile playing over his mouth.
“How’s Sabrina?” Molly asks. She can’t help it. “Does she know you’re meeting me? I mean—not that it’s a secret. I forgot to mention it to her, is all.”
“I didn’t tell her yet, but I will. It’s not a big deal.” Jake hooks a hand around the nape of his neck. “She’s fine, busy this weekend.”
“With work?”
“And redecorating.”
“Right. She mentioned wanting to redo your bedroom.”
“And every room in the house, it seems.” Jake shrugs.
Molly can’t help but laugh. “Look at you, Jake Danner. Married to a woman with a passion for décor.”
“Yeah. The house could look like my college dorm room and I probably wouldn’t notice.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Molly grins. “I guess I could’ve spruced up our place on Driggs a bit.”
“Are you kidding? I loved that place.”
Molly’s heart clenches at the memory of their old apartment, of how it felt to walk in the door and into Jake’s arms every single night. She remembers the tiny kitchen, the distinct smell of it. A blend of spices—the ones Jake cooked with—and those eucalyptus candles she used to buy.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Jake continues. “You made it homey. You got those curtains. Remember the green flowered ones?”
“The ones I found at Brooklyn Flea. Wow, I haven’t thought about those in a long time. They looked terrible, in retrospect. I don’t even think they fit the windows.”
“They were perfect, Moll.” Jake smiles sadly. He lowers his voice. “We were perfect.”
A breeze rolls off the ocean, with it the scent of salt and brine. Molly brushes a piece of hair off her face. Her throat is tight. “‘Perfect’ is a stretch, Jake.”
“We were pretty damn close.” He sighs. “Tell me how you really are, Moll.”
She fidgets with her engagement ring, spinning it around the way she does when she’s anxious. It’s a three-stone diamond—an heirloom, Becky’s late mother’s—and Molly has barely taken it off since Hunter gave it to her six weeks before Stella was born. “I feel busy,” she tells him. “Stella’s had camp all summer, and I’m teaching four classes a week now, which I guess isn’t that many, but still. The days are full.”
“I’m glad you’re still teaching,” he says. “Your classes at Bhakti were always my favorite. Does it make you happy?”