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Molly considered lobbing a pillow at his face. “You’re supposed to be on my side.” She hated how breathless she felt.
Neither Alannah nor Roy said anything to that, but their tension echoed with the reminder that Bishop had eventually rescinded his accusation. She appreciated that neither of them took the opportunity to mention the cheating allegations Molly had lodged—only somewhat in retaliation—against Bishop. She’d eventually rescinded her accusations too. A his and hers set of baseless academic misconduct cases, as it were.
“Fine,” she said. “Those things aside, did past me also ignore that he comes from a skeevy, capitalist crime boss family?”
“Bishop Logistics is still in the news like every other day. Tough to ignore, unfortunately. I think there’s a class action thing happening right now,” Roy said.
“So, they’re still deeply terrible people regularly exploiting the labor force?”
“Probably committing human rights violations as we speak,” Alannah said.
Molly sighed, exhausted by things she couldn’t manage to wrap her head around. She might have prodded more, dug deeper, but a wail sounded from elsewhere in the house.
Alannah and Roy both sighed.
“Right on schedule,” Alannah said.
Molly tilted her head in question.
“Jessa is a finicky sleeper. We usually have a couple rounds of this before she finally settles. Luckily, Thomas sleeps like the dead.”
Thoughts of Bishop and his awful family vanished, immediately eclipsed by the children she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to meet. At least, not again.
“Could I,” she started, feeling silly and slightly desperate at the same time, “see her?”
Alannah grinned. “Of course. Jessa loves you. And Roy”—she tilted her head to Roy as he left the room—“loves that Jessa loves you.” She paused, watching Molly. “You’re great with them.”
When Roy reentered, he held a toddler version of Alannah. Molly’s vision swam, body reacting before her brain processed what she was seeing.
Jessa turned her tiny head. Upon seeing Molly, her face lit up. The floor dropped out from beneath Molly’s feet, the weight of a child’s precious smile sending her into a free fall. Jessa unwrapped her arms from Roy’s neck, opening them to Molly. She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “Olly” over and over again.
“Are you okay to hold her?” Alannah asked in a whisper.
“Yes,” Molly whispered back, not needing to consider.
She forgot to breathe as groggy toddler arms encircled her. On instinct, she began swaying back and forth, offering movement and murmurs to ease an already drowsy child back to sleep.
Roy and Alannah wore identical looks of amazement.
Molly felt it too, the awe, deep in her bones. The familiarity she felt with this child consumed her. She knew Jessa, even though she didn’t.
She suddenly understood then, holding Jessa in her arms, what Bishop and Roy had meant. She wasn’t really two different people. She was just missing the right context.
Before
The library was a place for quiet. For studying. For research. For writing papers and reviewing notes.
Which was why, on the third day of a new semester, Molly had crammed herself into the most isolated desk available, surreptitiously swallowing the snacks she’d nabbed from the cafeteria along with her guilt. She knew she wasn’t supposed to eat here, but she couldn’t deal with another lunch period without Roy, Simon, or Alannah. They would have to better coordinate their schedules next year.
She was spoiled by her friendship with Roy, she knew she was. And by how seamlessly Simon and Alannah had slipped inside their little bubble. Molly hated the idea of small talk with casual acquaintances and the gauntlet of socialization without her friendship safety net.
All of which meant that she didn’t have the patience to figure out who to eat with, even if the alternative was a little lonely, a little sad.
She preferred the library, honestly. It was soothing and quiet and peaceful and—she blinked, confused, when some kind of sound began playing nearby.
In the hierarchy of library policy offenses, noise ranked above food. She was no longer the worst offender.
She waited, expecting the sound to stop. It didn’t. It was quiet but droning, and close enough that Molly couldn’t tune it out. Too curious to ignore it, she rose and crept quietly between the shelves. Peering around a corner, she found one of Bishop’s friends—Elliot Reyes, she thought his name was—lounging in an armchair.
