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I wish Molly were here, putting sunscreen on and talking about her books, or whatever she feels like talking about. Hell, we could have been lying out here uninterrupted. I figured she’d enjoy a massage, given the kinks she brought up when we first arrived.
Would this misunderstanding between us have occurred if I’d told her I needed a break sooner?
Maybe Molly doesn’t want to hang out with me when we aren’t pretending to date.
That damn kiss in the pottery studio has been messing with my head.
Christ. I palm the frustrated crease in my forehead. Women haven’t been on my mind for years, and now Molly’s living rent-free in my thoughts.
I stretch out in the cotton folding chair.
The only places in the resort that aren’t being monitored are our suite, the private pools, and the trails around the resort. I find myself second-guessing everything—are we touching enough, am I asking the right questions—when I’m aware I’m being watched.
I did the right thing by staying back, but I should’ve shown Molly some more kindness and patience.
This is her normal. She must constantly battle this kind of scrutiny from her family. A pressure point waiting to snap.
I only have to deal with this lifestyle for a short while.
I don’t want to be another person who adds to her anxiety.
Out of the corner of my eye, something red catches my attention.Her.Curls bounce around Molly’s shoulders; her eyes are hidden behind her sunglasses. She walks down the stone path that leads to the pool.
She came.
“Hey,” I say, pulling the chair beside me closer, offering her a seat.
“Um—can we talk?”
“Absolutely.”
She sits, nervously weaving her fingers together. “Okay, I’m actually not sure how to start this, so forgive me if I’m awkward.”
“You’re safe with me, Molly.” I hesitate, but then I reach over and cover her hands with my own. “I want to talk this out.”
She takes off her sunglasses, staring at my hands on hers. “I—I don’t know how to act when I’ve upset someone, or, frankly, when I’m feeling, uh, upset myself.” She frowns, slumping into the folding seat. “Sorry, I haven’t vocalized this to someone who isn’t my therapist.”
“It’s okay, take your time.” I squeeze her hands.
“Whenever there’s an ounce of conflict, it’s like my body shuts down. Just stops operating. I hate it. I know it’s irrational to run away from arguments and immature…” With another hefty inhale, a tear drops out of the corner of her eye. She doesn’t bother swiping it away. My heart aches. “It’s embarrassing that whenever someone upsets me, I simply want to disappear,” she heaves. “As if I could close my eyes, andpoof!no more arguments. But when that doesn’t work, well, my next best approach has been running from people before they can abandon me.”
Another tear.
“Hey, hey.” I tug at her fingers, pulling her a smidge closer, and freeze. I want to wrap my arm around her shoulders, crush her into my chest, let her tears drench my shirt.Does she want that?I hold her hands tighter, causing her knuckles to redden. “I’m listening; I hear you.”
Molly focuses on me. The tremble of her chin subsides. “I’m sorry I never really checked in with you. I know all of this pretending to be in love is a lot, and I expected you to submit to my mother and her agenda, like I always have. Everything feels like a crisis situation, and I’m just trying to keep it together.”
“Molly.” My voice uncharacteristically cracks at her tears. I clear my throat. “We’re a team, and I’m not abandoning you. You don’t have to handle everything on your own. I’m all in here. I’m all in with you. Even after the divorce, if you need me, I’ll be there.”
The same way I have been for all the years we’ve been friends.
The only thing I should focus on is learning how to manage these extremely complicated situations. Not on my suddenly awakened desires and muddled emotions from earlier. We’re from two different worlds and ages apart. Surely we were going to have a learning curve.
“I know, Matthew. I’m trying to accept that. It’s silly, but I have a hard time believing anyone is telling the truth or that they don’t have a hidden agenda. I trust you—or at least, I want to trust you.” Her amber eyes flash at me, looking panicked.
“Trust is built over time,” I assure her. “It’s like when I first started working at ORO. It took a while for my team and Luca to get along, but we banded together. What I’m trying to say is that I’m patient, and I’ll be here.”
“I appreciate that. I feel disappointed in myself, because I’m an adult. I should know how to disagree, how to say what’s on my mind and in my heart and be able to hear someone else do the same,” she says. “But people have always treated me like a child, and, well, that’s why my trust is so important.”
