She was the reason their marriage had failed, he informed her.
She was hard and unforgiving.
She was irrational.
She was selfish.
With each charge laid against her, she simply blinked at him, unimpressed by his lack of creativity. Honestly, she still recalled his I-want-a-divorce monologue just fine. If she’d wanted an encore, she could’ve simply consulted her own memories.
This delightful encounter wasn’t going to last much longer. She’d decided five minutes was more than enough time for him to purge the vitriol from his system once and for all. After that, she’d put an end to their unexpected rendezvous—and tell him any further contact would either happen through their lawyers or end in a restraining order.
Her hands were steady. Her cheeks had cooled. She’d even transcribed a few key chunks of his soliloquy in her phone’s note-taking app, then discreetly posted brief updates to her social media accounts while he was still droning on and on about how terriblea wife she’d been, because when Rob got in the lecture zone, her participation was entirely unnecessary.
She was back in control.
His words stung. Of course they stung. But they didn’twoundher like they had before Karl showed up. They didn’t threaten her composure or make her doubt herself in the way Rob obviously intended.
The man glued to her side was having a harder time maintaining his equanimity, however. And after Rob’s ridiculously hypocritical accusation of selfishness, Karl gave up even the unconvincing pretense of putting food away. Propping his white-knuckled fists on the catering table, wearing an expression generally reserved for bloodthirsty serial killers finally taking their knife-wielding revenge upon their lifelong enemy, he leaned in dangerously close to her ex-husband and unleashed his tongue.
“If Molly’shardsometimes?” A furious, rumbling sound rattled in his chest. “It’s because she’s had to be. Because motherfuckers like you would’ve taken advantage otherwise. Part of her damn wellknewshe couldn’t trust you with anything soft.”
She took a sip from her water bottle. Smiled at him.
“If she’sunforgiving, it’s because you don’tdeserveher goddamn forgiveness.” When his fists thumped against the table, it shuddered. “And it’s not irrational orselfishto say no to you. It’sherhouse, you shit stain of a man. She can do whatever she fuckingwantswith it.”
It was genuinely startling, the extent to which seeing—and hearing, obviously; everyone in Harlot’s Bay could probably transcribe his profanity-laden screed at this point, word for word—Karl’s anger eased hers. Like he’d lifted its weight directly from her heart and heaved it onto his own broad shoulders, carrying itlike he had so many other burdens during the course of his overworked life.
And he was only gaining momentum as he spoke. Maybe a bittoomuch momentum. Again: If Karl utterly lost his cool, she didn’t know whether the Harlot’s Bay jail took credit cards, and she didn’t want to find out.
“—go fuck yourself, you prick,” he was ranting. “I’ll tear down every brick of that house with my bare hands and sledgehammer the foundation into motherfuckingatomsbefore I let you get your cruel—”
A single light tug on his jacket’s sleeve, and he cut himself off and looked over at her.
“You have extremely strong hands, but I doubt they’re strong enough to tear apart mortared bricks.” She covered one of those hands with hers. Squeezed consolingly. “Even if they were, you should wear gloves to protect them. Also, a quick note: While I have, on occasion, been referred to as abrick house—”
“She’s mighty-mighty,” Lise murmured from a few feet away.
“—my actual house is not, in fact, brick.” She raised her free forefinger. “And finally, I’m relatively certain a sledgehammer can’t supply the force necessary to break elements down to their constituent atoms.”
His lips twitched, if only faintly. “Nitpicker.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Molly.” In the put-upon tone of a reasonable person ill-used by circumstance—oh, yes, her ex-husband had been an excellent narrator before his decision to attend medical school—Rob addressed her directly. “Why are you letting this man speak for you?”
“Because I’ve said what I needed to say, over and over again,” she answered plainly. “You didn’t listen, and there’s no pointwasting more of my time or energy. Right now, I’m simply letting you run out of steam. And for your information, I’ve already transcribed the most problematic things you told me tonight. Just in case I need to file a restraining order.”
While her ex-husband spluttered and postured and informed her she was overreacting—hysterical, even—Karl leaned over to plant a hard kiss on her head.
“Be right back.” He began edging around the table. “Getting us both some eel cake before it’s all gone.”
Apparently he considered the matter settled. And to be fair, the threat of legal intervention had seemingly taken most of the wind out of Rob’s sails.
Most, but not all.
“We both know you’re not cut out for relationships, Molly.” Rob watched Karl walk over to the nearby cake display, then turned back to Molly. “He might play the big man and beat his chest in front of your ex, but he’ll never love you.”
Over at the cake table, Karl’s shoulders bunched into hard knots of muscle, and he rumbled ominously. The wordmotherfuckerwas clearly audible, although he probably thought he was speaking under his breath.
