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“No, Matthew. I genuinely have no idea why you’re at my house at three o’clock in the morning. Apart from funding your project, I can’t see why you’d come all the way to the city.” Her lip quivers slightly.
Molly looks at me with raw hurt. The air feels more frigid in the townhouse than it did outside. The ground beneath my feet feels unsteady. She’s got me all wrong.
I force a deep breath into my lungs. “What are you saying?”
“There aren’t any cameras here. No one to monitor all of our pretending.” She waves her hands around. Her bandages send a pike into my gut.
“Molly,” I try.
“What? Isn’t that the truth?” Pain races in her eyes, except she doesn’t run away this time. Molly is here, experiencing this with me despite how much she’s hurting. The trust we have built is a testament to how close we’ve become.
It’s exactly why I’m here.
“I haven’t been able to relax since sitting at that dinner table with you. The way everything unfolded made me feel like I’ll never be enough for you or anyone else.”
A tear spills across her cheek. “You are—”
“Please, let me finish. I feel pressure to succeed in this for you. And, Molly, you have every right to be angry. At your parents, at the way they treat you, but, baby, don’t be angry at me,” I say calmly.
“Why not? I’m so tired of being given permission to feel, to exist. I’m sick of apologizing for acting however feels most natural to me.” Molly sobs. I want to hold her so badly. “I barely know what’s right anymore because anything I do is wrong.”
I take a step toward her, and she doesn’t retreat. “I hear you, but I’m here. I’m putting you first.”
“I don’t need to be saved, and I don’t need your permission to be upset.”
“No, you don’t.” I shake my head and take another step closer.
“At dinner, you told me that you wanted to get my money,” she cries. Her bandaged hands swipe at her cheeks. “Is that it? Is that really all you want?”
My rib cage tightens. “My motivations are you. I want to get your trust foryou.”
“What about your project? I know that pretending to be in love with me has been exhausting, but you didn’t hesitate to come to the rescue again.”
There is so much I can’t say right now and so much I want to. My hands flex, and I roll my neck. “Molly, the entire night, I only had you in mind,” I explain. “After what happened at the paint studio, I—I don’t know how you could presume anything else.”
She looks up at me. The faint streetlights outside cast shadows across her face. It’s killing me not knowing what happened to her hands, or, at the very least, what she’s thinking. I can always read her, but not now.
The pads of my fingers tingle with the need to touch her.
Molly shatters the quiet between us.“Did the past two weeks mean something to you?”
The years I spent numbing myself to these feelings were obviously a mistake, because my mind refuses to approach this logically. Not one ounce of rational thought swims in my head. I should let her push me away, except I can’t.
It’s selfish, helpless, foolish, even, but what I’ve started to feel for her isn’t going to disappear.
These last two weeks have made me understand that I want to be cherished and desired again. I want to cherish and desire someone else.
Molly.
I want to shine in her light. I want to feel like I’m flying. I want to wake up and count the freckles kissing her mouth. Make her laugh. Make her fall apart and then help put her back together, like she’s been doing to me without even realizing it.
She bites her swollen bottom lip and stares up at me, expecting an answer.
“They meant everything to me.” I reach for her, and she doesn’t stop me. “For fuck’s sake, darling. I’m certain that I can still taste you, practically feel you wrapped around me. I didn’t drive here for your money. I’m here for you.”
Her mouth slopes down. Worry wrinkles her forehead. “But what about—”
“What do you want?” I ask, towering over her.
