Chapter 17
MOLLY
Sunday Funday at the park with her girlfriends was the highlight of Molly’s week. One of her favorite things in the world.
The kids were all playing with one another on the playground and entertaining themselves. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, her friends all showed up—even April—and there was a mimosa in her insulated tumbler. Life was…
Miserable.
Molly was miserable.
There. She admitted it to herself.
Molly was never really miserable unless she got the flu. Otherwise, she was more of a go-along-with-what-life-tosses kind of person. Never getting too upset. Life was too short, and she was along for the ride.
Would she have liked a full house of kids that filled an entire dining room table? Yes. Would she have liked it if Ollie’s dad had held up his end of the bargain when she got pregnant? Of course.
He had no problem holding up his bargain with Molly’s replacement. Apparently, she made him happy. They had many kids who Ollie had never met. Their choice, not Molly’s or Oliver’s.
None of that was anything to get too worked up about. Molly was a cheerful person, dammit.
She sighed, a bone deep sigh. Laid back in the grass, arms wide, and let gravity hold her. It’s not like anyone else wanted to hold her. Not long-term at least.
Her friends continued to chatter in the background as she opened her eyes to follow the line of the clouds as the wind pushed them along above her.
Life was good. She liked what she had, and if she wanted anything at this point? Just more of that goodness, more of what she already had. Compounding interest in the investment she’d made.
She was content. Wasn’t she?
She had been content, at least. Now? Eh, not so much. Because after the didn’t-happen-don’t-ever-mention-it-again kiss, she’d been totally out of sorts.
Also, craving pulled pork and a side of sausage with Cajun rice and beans. She did not, however, crave cayenne cinnamon rolls. That nod from her was also a bit of a fib.
She’d never actually made them that way, because, ew, gross.
Nevertheless, she refused to acknowledge her pulled pork craving—or any of the others.
None of them were appropriate cravings. They were mediocre consolations at best, not things she’d ever craved before.
Or things that deserved her craving attention.
Not like strawberry shortcake, for example. Her most favorite dessert of all time.
Though she’d never admit it.
If anyone asked, she said chocolate cake because that made more sense. A girl could reasonably like chocolate cake. The rich, dense crumb of the layers made sense.
Strawberries were nice and shortcake was fine, but it wasn’t…wow.
Pulled pork was neither chocolate cake nor strawberry shortcake. Definitely not a Sunday at the park with her best friends.
This. This here at the park. This was one of her favorite things.
Laying on the itchy grass, watching the clouds that refused to make shapes today, ignoring all chatter because nothing felt right and everything felt wrong.
“Are you ready to talk about it?” Rachel asked. “About what?” Molly replied. Yes, she sounded
extremely grumpy. She cleared her throat and said again, this time much more gently, “About what?”
“Uh, Gavin,” Sadie said.
“I saw the show,” April added. “It was on fire. You beat out the puppies!”
Only one puppy—and one baby—but she wouldn’t correct April.
April had actually shown up and the occasion deserved celebration.
Turned out, April had been holding out on her girlfriends. Or, at least, Molly. Because April was building up a whole Calm Mommy online empire in the wake of her ex’s assholery. Meanwhile, Molly had been off in Mollyland, not even realizing it.
She mentally kicked herself for being too caught up in her own life to see what was right in front of her face with April.
“You were totally on fire,” Rachel agreed.
Molly wasn’t so sure. She didn’t feel like she was on fire, if “on fire” was a good thing. Now, if “on fire” was an uncomfortable thing? Then, yes. Yes, she did feel like the show was on fire.
“Double entendres are ‘on fire’?” Molly asked, sitting up on her elbows, much to her dismay. Couldn’t she just lay there miserable in the itchy grass, thinking about Gavin, without anyone forcing her to talk about it?
“The way you two did them,” Rachel said, innocent like she wasn’t trying to fix Molly’s perfectly ruined Sunday morning. “That whole thing was something else.”
Yes, it had been. It’d also knocked her into first place as a matchmaker. Take that, perfect Peter and your perfect couple and your perfect baby and your perfect puppy.
That wasn’t even sarcasm. Peter and Chris were totally perfect.
They even sent her a gourmet gift basket telling her how excited they were to be in the contest with her—the kind of basket filled with pears and French chocolate and three kinds of cheese with those fancy crackers she loved but never bought because they cost way too much money
for crackers.
That gift basket did not feel like a “fuck you” gift basket. Not one with sparkling cider and plastic cups—that would’ve been a whole different message. This one…it was sent with thought and genuine expensive-cracker generosity.
“I’m so confused.” Molly didn’t mean for the words to come out as a wail. And yet… there they were.
“What do you want?” April asked, like a woman who was also searching for the answer to that question. “Really want?”
“To go back in time,” Molly said. To be a better girlfriend to Ollie’s dad so he wouldn’t leave her high and dry and pregnant as all hell.
“What do you want that you can actually have?” Rachel asked.
“More,” Molly said, instantly. The word spilled from her lips with no thought and with no permission whatsoever.
“You’re trying too hard,” Sadie said gently, like Molly was about to bolt.
She wasn’t. She’d had half a tumbler of mimosa that was heavy on the sparkling wine, so if she tried to run anywhere she’d end up with a sprained ankle and a whole heap of bruised pride.
“Don’t try, just do,” Sadie suggested, like this was easy-peasy and not impossible.
For the record? That was impossible.
“It’s like you don’t even know me,” Molly muttered. “Or, maybe,” Rachel said, “we know you better than
you know yourself.” That was probable.
“That’s why I should trust you?” Molly asked, already
knowing the answer.
“Yes,” all of them said in unison.
Okay, then. “What would you have me do?”
“Let’s play a game,” Kaiya announced. “Who’s in?” All hands except Molly’s shot straight into the air.
She turned her attention to the kids on the playground, did a quick count. All of them were present, accounted for, and in one piece.
“Fine,” she said. “I’m in. What’s the game?”
“It’s called the What Does Molly Want? game.” Kaiya tossed her hands in the air. “Woo.”
“Molly wants not to play this game,” Molly said. Though she was interested in where Kaiya was going with the whole thing.
“That’s the best part.” Kaiya sat up on her knees. “You don’t have to do a thing. You just observe as we toss out the things we know Molly wants.”
“I’ll go first.” Kaiya took a slurp from her tumbler of mimosa before continuing. “Molly wants a big family and that house around the corner one street over.”
Wait, what?
“How did you…?” Know that? “I’m perfectly happy with my one son and my two-bedroom duplex and my exceptional friends.” This was not a lie. She was perfectly happy with them. Just—
“But you want more,” Kaiya said, totally serious. Yes, she did. She wanted more.
“It’s how you talk about things. You’ve mentioned that you would’ve had a lot of kids. And we’ve been looking at houses together for forever. Why haven’t we gone to see this one?” Kaiya clapped her hands together. “Because it’s
the one. And you’re scared you’ll match it with another homebuyer,” Kaiya said. “Call the rest intuition.”
“I don’t see how this game is going to help me.” Telling her all the things she wanted at one point but didn’t get, and the things she might not ever be able to have? Nope. Didn’t sound like a very fun game to her.
“I’ll go next,” April volunteered, raising her hand. “Take a drink before you go.” Kaiya pointed to April’s
tumbler. “It’s the rules.”
“The rules you just made up?” Molly confirmed.
Kaiya nodded. “Yup. They’re fluid rules and change each time we decide to play this game in the future.”
Molly decided she could probably use a solid gulp of her own drink before each of them started their turn.
“Molly wants to send Ollie to stunt camp,” April said.
This was true, so Molly didn’t debate the particular point.
“But she wants to send him to stunt camp,” Sadie continued, “because she’s worried she’s failing him as a mother.”
Okay, so, whoa. “Could we not do this?”
“It’s important.” Kaiya shushed her. “Let us finish.”
“Molly is not failing her son as a mother, but seeing as
she is a mother, it’s in the job description that she feels this way.” April took another sip for good measure. “Believe me, I know this curse of motherhood. I feel it, too.” She got a little quiet before that little morsel at the end.
“Preach it,” Rachel said, not allowing the heavy to settle.
She clapped her hands. “Preach. It. We are not failures.”
“At everything.” April raised her tumbler and said loud
and proud, “We are not failures at everything.”
“I’m next.” Sadie took an extremely generous gulp from her insulated tumbler. “Molly doesn’t really care if she wins this matchmaking competition.” Sadie raised her eyebrows as though she was daring Molly to negate her.
Which she was going to do, because Sadie was wrong.
“I do want to win,” Molly announced with vigor.
“I want Charlie and Agnes to be happy together. I want Ollie to go to stunt camp. I want a working vehicle so I can get him where he needs to go safely. I want that house a street over on the corner so Ollie has a more reasonably-sized bedroom. All things that will happen if I get that prize money.” She emphasized the last word.