She’d have to step across the center line herself, with zero guarantee of what might happen next.
“I suspect the only reason he got up the courage to ask you to stay again is some intensive coaching from Athena and Matthew. Maybe Charlotte too. And then, when you didn’t agree right away, he simply lost his nerve.” Lise’s hands spread wide. “I could be wrong, however.”
Molly’s tired eyes stung, so she rubbed them with her knuckles and hoped her waterproof mascara held strong. Unlike—for example—her resolve not to make herself completely vulnerable to another man, ever.
Before she surrendered to the inevitable, though, she needed to make one last attempt at avoidance. “If he truly loves me, shouldn’t that make him brave enough to take a chance and declare his love?”
“You tell me.” Lise raised a single, damning brow. “Has your love for him madeyoubrave enough, Molly?”
In response, Molly’s middle finger made a return appearance, because Karl had clearly been a bad influence on her.
“No? Then let me help you.” Lise’s words were quiet, sympathetic, and entirely relentless. “I want you to imagine cutting things off with Karl now, without ever telling him you love him. Going back to LA and never returning. And then—five, ten, fifteen years down the line—getting another message from me.”
Molly cringed, already knowing what came next.
“A text telling you he’s married to someone else.” Lise waited for that prospect to bloom in Molly’s imagination, like a growing blot of midnight-black ink. “Or, heaven forbid, an email sharing the nonfictional, entirely correct obituary for him in theHarlot’s Herald. How would that feel?”
Like someone grabbing her by the throat and squeezing. Like reading her own obituary.
Her face crumbled, and her fist against her mouth couldn’t quite stifle a sob.
Immediately, Lise’s chair gave another ear-splitting shriek as she scooched closer again. She took Molly’s hand, her round brown eyes solemn and sincere and tear-glazed too.
“I only have one more thing I need to say, and then I’m done. I promise.” She held Molly’s blurry stare, her own expression pained. “For the last two years, you’ve clearly been beating yourself up for trusting Rob. Enough to marry him and give him seventeen precious years of your life.”
Her hand squeezed Molly’s, demanding her friend’s full attention. “But babe, I’m not sure you everdidtrust him. You told me once that your insomnia only got bad after your wedding, and that’s what people in the book biz calla telling detail. Part of youknew, Molly. Always. Your instincts were good. You simply didn’t follow them, for completely human reasons. The sunk-cost fallacy is some powerful shit, am I right?”
“Karl...” Molly had to clear her throat and blow her nose with the paper towel in her free hand before she kept speaking. “Karl said pretty much the exact same thing. Minus the sunk-cost fallacy bit, because he’s not nearly as nerdy as either of us.”
“Then Karl and I are both right.” Another fierce squeeze. “Forgive yourself, Molly. Trust yourself and your own instincts, if you can’t bring yourself to trust him. Even though I think youshouldtrust him, because that man’s freakinggonefor you.”
Her instincts were screaming at her right now. Shouting that Karl wasn’t the sort of man who’d casually fuckanyoneand toss her aside, much less an old friend whose voice he’d recognized after almost two decades apart and listened to every... single... morning.
He’d worked incredibly hard to convince her to stay for the entire month. Given up sleep to ensure they’d have plenty of time together. Tried to earn her trust through bizarre corporate activities. Shared his secrets and listened attentively to hers. Made love to her like she was a miracle in human form, dispatched directly from the heavens in the exact shape of his desires.
Why would he have done any of that if he didn’t love her?
Why would he have asked her to stay if he didn’t intend to pursue a future with her?
Molly’s loud sniff echoed in the dark classroom. “Thank you for the sage advice, Lise. As mandated by the Motion Picture Association, circa 1998, it was very helpful.”
“As your fat, funny bestie, it was my pleasure. Also my contractual obligation.” Lise’s small smile faded. “But like you said, even my wisest counsel can’t fix everything. Only you can do that.” Her eyebrows rose in inquiry. “So what are your instincts telling you?”
With a heavy sigh, Molly let go of Lise’s hand and stood. “Unfortunately, I need to talk to Karl.”
“Good plan.” Lise pushed up from her own chair. “Let’s go find him.”
Molly lingered, hesitant, then swallowed her pride. “But first, I need a hug. A long one.”
“Yeah, you do,” Lise agreed, then wrapped her best friend tight in her arms and gave Molly exactly what she wanted. Exactly what she’d finally admitted to needing.
Exactly—exactly—what she’d had the courage to ask for.
27
The worst goddamn reunion in the history of this goddamn planet was winding down, at long goddamn last. Midnight had come and gone. Bez had headed out a few minutes ago. Johnathan was off to take a quick break and fetch a final resupply of their picked-over hors d’oeuvres, but Karl figured only a quarter of the remaining snacks might get eaten. He’d send the rest home with Charlotte and Johnathan.
The crowds were thinning, minute by minute. From his spot behind the refreshments table, he could finally tell for damn sure: Molly was nowhere to be found. Probably went back to the Spite House hours ago, without even telling him.
