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Once, Again, Always

Page 72

by Amanda Gayle

Roy took the opportunity to position himself on Molly’s other side, effectively trapping her between him and Alannah: her two best friends.

An unbidden image of Justine Dawson came to mind.

“So . . .” Alannah started, trailing off.

Roy shot an exasperated look at Alannah. “Really?”

“Come on,” she said. “It’s not that intrusive of a question. We’ve been friends for over a decade. You’d be appalled by some of the things we’ve discussed on this roof when you aren’t here.”

“I want it known, then, that I was the voice of reason.” Roy sighed. “And that I have no interest in the answer.”

“The answer to what?” Curiosity eclipsed Molly’s bafflement over Aster’s exit.

“Are you two . . . you know?” Alannah prompted eagerly.

“I know?”

Roy groaned when Alannah made a vulgar hand gesture, intimating sex.

“Oh, my God, Alannah!” Molly’s head fell back against the sofa as she groaned. “No, we’re not. Which means operation progeny or whatever we’re calling it is on hold.” She reached for a pastry, shoving a huge bite in her mouth in hopes of escaping yet another conversation about her nonexistent sex life with her far-too-curious friends.

Alannah grabbed Molly’s arm so fast she nearly jumped. “Were you trying to get pregnant?”

Still chewing, Molly failed to answer. Once she’d forcefully swallowed her panic along with her pastry, she managed, “You didn’t know?”

“I had no idea,” Alannah said, eyes wide. She smiled. “But that’s amazing!” Her face fell. “Well, I mean—”

“It’s complicated now, obviously,” Molly said. After a beat, she forced herself to ask a question she’d been curious about for some time now. One she needed to know for her own context, she thought. “When did kids stop being a hypothetical for you? I’m still”—she struggled for the right words—“kind of catching up on that front.”

“I mean, it’s a complicated decision,” Alannah began with a pointed look at Roy. “But I think one day it just hit me that I wanted to make some magic with that man.”

“Not my favorite way you could have phrased that.” Molly forcibly cordoned off any thoughts about the mechanics of Roy making magic.

“Now you know how I felt about five minutes ago.” Roy looked a little too pleased at this turnabout.

“There was no magic happening when you walked in earlier,” Molly insisted.

Alannah made a sound that said she disagreed, but thankfully changed the subject. “Justine texted me, by the way. Informed me she’s back on the friendship roster and asked when we’d be coming to Friday night hangouts.”

Molly couldn’t help but laugh. “I see Justine wastes no time. Did you know she knits? She made me a whole dress.”

Alannah let out what could only be described as a cackle. “I did know this, actually. She can spend an afternoon explaining all the ways your opinions about Pinot Grigio are objectively incorrect and then turn around and give you a stunning, hand-knitted baby blanket. She could have walked into any designer store and picked something up, but she knitted a blanket for Thomas instead. There’s a bunch of little croissants on it. My mom was genuinely impressed. I’ll show you later.”

“Huh,” was all Molly managed.

Beside them, Roy’s head tilted. “Think Bishop’s gotten lost?”

Molly found Aster standing in the hallway beside the second-floor bathroom, eyes glued to his phone screen. In the dim hallway, the white light from his phone hit the underside of his face in an eerily angular, washed-out way.

Molly paused with enough distance between them to give him space, something instinct told her he needed. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he closed out something on his phone, then clicked the screen off. Without that light, the shadowed hallway suddenly seemed too dark for conversation.

“You know, don’t you?” he asked, a heavy sigh in his tone. “You not asking a question is almost as obvious as you actually asking it.” It wasn’t an accusation; he almost sounded amused.

“I know some things,” she admitted. She took a small step closer. “You said you’d tell me, so I’ve been waiting.”

A lift at the corner of his mouth, scarcely visible in profile, relaxed her. If Aster could still smirk, then things couldn’t be too terrible.

“You’re not very good at being patient,” he said.