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About a block from the apartment, I stood at the crosswalk waiting for the red light to change. While I whistled the old “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” song, I happened to glance across the street at the Italian restaurant Molly and I had ordered from a few times. And my whistling came to an abrupt stop.
Molly.
She was inside the restaurant, sitting at a table right up against the front window. And she wasn’t alone. Will sat across from her. The light I’d been waiting on turned green, and people all around me started crossing. But I couldn’t move. I just stood there staring. Molly was smiling—she had a big, real smile that lit up her beautiful face. The douchebag across from her leaned in and said something, and her head bent back in laughter.
Ever see a car accident on the side of the road? You know you shouldn’t look, yet you can’t stop staring—even when what you see causes an ache in your chest. Yeah, that’s not what this felt like at all. This felt like I’d been the one who crashed the fucking car into a tree going eighty miles an hour. My chest tightened, and my throat constricted, making it hard to suck air into my lungs.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck!
My Molly. With Will. And she looked…happy. As much as I wanted that for her, it was physically painful to see another man making it happen. Two minutes ago I’d been bringing home flowers and whistling, yet now my whole world had come crashing down on me. I’m not an idiot—I’d known I had strong feelings for Molly. But now I realized I felt a lot more than that.
I’d fallen in love with her.
***
A text came in as I folded another pair of pants into my suitcase.
Molly: Should be home about 7:30. I went over to my dad’s this afternoon to check in on him, and we lost track of time. Want me to pick up anything on the way back?
After I’d gotten home earlier, I’d sat around moping, trying to figure out what to do. Nearly four hours later, the decision I’d come to felt a little rash, but deep down I knew it was the right thing…for both of us.
Rather than tell Molly I’d moved up my flight, I chose to wait until she got home. I didn’t want her rushing back and taking time away from her dad.
Declan: No, all good. Enjoy your time with your father.
An hour later, I was zipping my last suitcase closed when I heard the front door open. I’d meant to go out into the living room and greet her so we could talk before she noticed all my luggage, but she came to my room before I could finish.
“Hey, what do you say we…” Molly’s voice trailed off, and her brow furrowed as she took in the suitcases on my bed. “You’re packed already?”
“Yeah.”
She walked over to an open, empty dresser drawer and shut it before opening the one underneath.
Empty.
She quietly shut it and moved on to the one underneath that.
Again empty.
“What’s going on, Declan? You didn’t leave any clothes out.”
She’d asked the question, but her face told me she already knew the answer.
I sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to me. “Come sit.”
During the months I’d lived here, there were probably half-a-dozen times I should’ve lied to her—like when I’d admitted Julia and I had fooled around, or better yet, when I’d told her I had feelings for her. But I’d been mostly honest. So the bullshit words I spoke now tasted extra sour coming out of my mouth.
“There’s been a change in plans. The guy working with our Wisconsin client had an emergency. So my boss told me I need to be there sooner.”
Molly looked panicked. “When?”
I swallowed. “Tonight. I’m booked on the last flight out of O’Hare. It leaves a few minutes before eleven.”
“But…but…that means you have to leave for the airport by, like, eight thirty?”
“Eight fifteen, actually. I have a car coming for me.”
“Oh my God, Declan. No! That’s too soon. We didn’t get to spend any time together.”
I looked down and nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Molly looked at her watch. “Why didn’t you call me or text me earlier? I would have come home instead of going to see my dad tonight.”
“Your time with your dad is important. I didn’t want you to rush.”
“But my time with you is important, too.” She reached over and took my hand. It felt so damn right, which made what I was doing even harder.
I cleared my throat. “Come on. Why don’t we go out to the kitchen? I made you dinner and have water boiling. Let me feed you one more time before I have to go.”
Molly and I were both quiet as I led her out of my bedroom. I’d changed my plans from making appetizers to making fresh gnocchi, so they only needed to boil for three to four minutes. The water was already simmering, so I turned it up to a boil before starting to heat the cream sauce.
