Chapter 5 #3
If her stupid bargain had gotten Lise hurt . . . Are you okay?
Yes.
No hesitation. Whew.
The uber-efficient server had already returned. After adding a substantial tip to the total and signing her receipt, Molly
stood to go.
Was it good? she texted as she exited the diner.
Yes. Dots came and went on the screen. Yes.
Brows drawn in thought, Molly paused in the shade cast by the building’s brick exterior and stared blankly at the empty street
in front of her.
Lise’s second yes could mean two things. Either she was unsure about the first yes and trying to convince herself—and Molly—that
the sex truly had been decent, or . . .
Was it VERY good?
More dots.
Perhaps. Before Molly could press further, Lise texted again. So you’re coming to the reunion with me. Hooray!
Fine. As someone who guarded her own privacy, she’d respect Lise’s too.
I suppose I am. And for some reason, that admission didn’t aggravate her nearly as much as she’d have expected. Molly leaned her shoulder
against the brick wall, allowing it to support her weight. How in the world did you find someone so quickly?
An amendment, in the interest of greater accuracy: She’d mostly respect Lise’s privacy.
There was another lengthy pause, replete with yet more blinking dots.
Long story, Lise eventually wrote. Anyway, I had an idea just now. Why don’t you ask Karl to be your date? If you invited him, I bet he’d say yes, and we could
hang out as an antisocial trio.
It can’t be THAT long a story, since it transpired in the last twenty-four hours, Molly felt obligated to note before reading the rest of her friend’s message. Whereupon she sighed heavily, because . . .
was Lise matchmaking? And why was everyone and everything—including her own traitorous thoughts—seemingly conspiring to keep her in Harlot’s Bay
and Karl’s vicinity?
A mosquito hovered near her face, and she absently shooed it away.
You’d be surprised, Lise texted. Anyway, what do you think about inviting Karl to the reunion?
Okay. Texting wasn’t sufficient for this conversation anymore.
“Why is the entire universe pushing me toward Karl freaking Dean?” she demanded, as soon as Lise answered her phone.
“What?” Her friend sounded befuddled.
“First he ends up with an obituary while still alive, under entirely bizarre circumstances. Then I somehow get word of the obit despite living over two thousand miles away. Then—”
“I mean, you did used to live here,” Lise pointed out. “So that part’s not as far-fetched. Just saying.”
“—he tells me I wronged him when I cut him off twenty fucking years ago, Lise, and thus owe him four weeks in Harlot’s Bay so he can earn my trust, which is bizarre. I live across the damn country from him, so why the hell does he care?”
“Maybe he—”
“It isn’t as if I wouldn’t sleep with him anyway, trust or no trust,” Molly said, ignoring her friend’s attempted interruption.
“But when I told him that, he turned me down, Lise. Even though he had a visible erection. Like, what the actual fuck? And
sure, I misjudged him a second time and thought Charlotte was his partner and had borne him two adorable kids, but that doesn’t
mean I have to—”
“Those are definitely not Karl’s kids. He’s one hundred percent single and evidently ready to mingle. With you, anyway. Although
not sexually, from what you’re telling me. Which, I agree, is kind of inexplicable.” Lise paused. “And apparently he also
took possession of your vocabulary sometime over the past minute. Holy crap, Molly. I’ve never heard you this flustered before.”
It’d been a long time since she’d felt so off-kilter. Even longer since she’d let someone else see or hear it.
When her husband had completed his residency—the last major step toward becoming a doctor, after her work had paid for his medical school—and almost immediately announced that he was leaving her after seventeen years together, she hadn’t yelled.
Hadn’t cried. Not when he’d explained that he now wanted children, as well as a younger woman to bear those children, although they’d agreed to remain a family of two more than a decade ago.
Not even when she’d asked why he didn’t say so much sooner, and he’d told her she was cold and uncommunicative and difficult to talk to.
“Kind of a bitch, Molly, although you know I hate to use that word,” he’d said.
Ever since they’d met at UCLA, he’d shaken his head at her cynicism. Told her she needed to think the best of people. Told
her she could trust him, rely on him, that he’d never disappoint her the way others had.
It had taken nine years before she’d believed him, before she’d agreed to marry him.
And he’d used her to finance his future, then shaken her off like a fleck of lint.
But she hadn’t cried then. Hadn’t even flinched. She’d simply thrown his ass out of their home. Her home. When his car had disappeared around a bend in the road, that was when she’d let herself break and rage and weep. Not
a moment before.
So why couldn’t she seem to feign serenity now? Had the news of Karl’s death and his subsequent resurrection unsettled her
that much? Was there something in the air here at Harlot’s Bay, the last place she’d even half-heartedly tried to find a real
community? Because none of this was like her. Not the spontaneous travel. Not the uncontrollable emotions.
Grief. Joy. Guilt. Anger. And now—anticipation? Fear?
“He . . .” A saline-scented breeze blew a strand of hair into her mouth, and she moved it aside with a hooked finger. “He
was really caring and patient with Charlotte and her kids, Lise.”
Lise’s calm, matter-of-fact tone was a balm for all that raw emotion.
“She’s been working at the bakery since she was a teenager, and the father of her kids has addiction issues.
And she’s sweet as pie, so over the years, she’s sort of become Karl’s surrogate daughter.
He helps her out however he can. I think he even babysits on a regular basis. ”
“Oh.” Her suede loafers were going to start pilling if she kept scuffing them against the sidewalk. “So naming her son after
Karl—”
“Was a tribute to a man she loves like a father.”
The sun overhead shone brightly enough to dazzle her, and she squinted as she gazed down the street. “Quit interrupting me,
Lise.”
“Make me, Mol.”
After a moment of companionable silence, Molly confessed, “The whole Charlotte-Karl thing is . . . really endearing. And maybe . . .”
She cleared her throat. “Maybe part of me does want to agree to his stupid plan. But if I stayed . . .”
Her friend allowed the silence to stretch, then broke it. “If you stayed . . . what?”
“I might get too attached.” Her mouth worked. “I mean, we live across the country from each other. I don’t have the bandwidth
right now to do a long-distance thing, Lise.”
“Hmmm.” Lise sounded skeptical. “Is that the only reason you’re hesitant to stay?”
Molly did her best to feign confusion. “What do you mean?”
Her thespian abilities and training had entirely abandoned her, though. Only a fool could fail to recognize the attempted
dodge, and Lise was far from slow.
“Molly. You know what I mean.”
Sure enough. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”
“Then you might as well say it.”
Dammit. She really needed to pick less perceptive friends.
With a sigh, she closed her overly dry eyes against the glare from the diner’s windows and admitted everything. The whole
ugly truth.
“I’ve loved two men in my entire life. Both of them turned out to be duds.” In different ways, but each way had ended in a
failed marriage. Her mother’s. Her own. “It hurts, Lise. More than I like to admit. I don’t want to . . .” She swallowed hard.
“No, I can’t hurt like that again.”
Lise made a humming noise. “And you think you could love Karl too, given enough time together.”
“I think part of me did love Karl, twenty years ago.” Her temples were beginning to ache again, and she rubbed at them with her free hand. “So . . .
yeah. He’s dangerous.”
Her overdramatic reaction to that damn obituary—after two full decades apart!—had made that much clear.
“Because you don’t trust him not to betray you somehow.”
“Because if he’s the kind of man who would betray me, I wouldn’t see the red flags, no matter how closely I paid attention. Because if he did betray me, I wouldn’t realize until far too late, and I might . . .” Her chin dipped to her chest, and she exhaled shakily.
“I might not ever be able to put myself back together afterward.”
If someone else she cared about left her, betrayed her, disappointed her, she’d probably make herself a blanketed burrow inside
her recording booth and never leave again.
Lise’s voice had turned gentle. “So you’re scared.”
“Yes.” She hated admitting that. Always had.
“I get it. I really do. But . . .” Lise was silent for a moment. “Hey, Molly?”
“Still here.” In fact, her feet currently felt glued to the sidewalk.
“What if you can trust Karl? What if he wouldn’t lie to you or betray you? Even if you don’t owe him, don’t you owe yourself a chance to find out what could happen between
you?” Lise hesitated. “Because you’re very alone in LA, Mol. I worry about you.”
Frowning, Molly opened her eyes. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”
Sure, she was kind of isolated back home. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Right?
“I know. But I worry anyway, because I love you. Consider it a free gift with purchase.”
Molly might not be able to see her friend’s smile, but she could hear its warmth. Hear the honesty Lise was offering her.
Was this what it felt like to have a best friend?
If so, it would be the first time she’d truly had one. Ever. At thirty-nine years old.
“I love you too,” Molly whispered, and dry eyes suddenly weren’t a problem anymore. “Lise . . . you really think it could
work? Karl and I, together?”
Rather than offering an immediate response, her friend considered the question for a while. “I don’t know,” she finally said.
“But I think it’s worth a shot. And if things go wrong, I’ll help you pick up the pieces. You won’t be alone, Mol, I swear.
If I need to, I’ll take some time off and fly to Los Angeles and become a glamorous Hollywood superstar for a while. As long
as superstardom doesn’t involve socializing with strangers, which is a definite no-go.”
Molly believed it. Lise would, in fact, get on a plane and help piece her back together, as needed.
“Okay.” One deep, bracing breath. Another. “Okay.”
She blotted her eyes with her sleeve, mentally preparing for the next step.
After a minute, Lise spoke again. “What are you going to do?”
Molly pushed off the wall. “I think it’s time for a short stroll.”
“To Grounds and Grains?”
“To Grounds and Grains,” she confirmed, and began walking.