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That was worse.
“I honestly didn’t know. I’m new to all of this—”
“She said it was fine,” Molly muttered under her breath.
Sasha looked between the two of us, her expression strained.
It might not have been appropriate to ask, but I did, anyway. “Sasha, can I have a second alone with Molly?”
“Sure.” Sasha gave me what might have been an encouraging closed-mouth smile if not for the grim set of her eyes. She stood, put her purse strap over her shoulder, and said, “I’ll be in the room.”
Molly and I sat in silence until Sasha was out of earshot. It was only then that Molly finally looked at me, her jaw set stubbornly, her eyes hard. “So, I guess we’re done here.”
The words tore at my heart. “Are we?”
She shrugged, but the casual gesture betrayed her. Though she tried for disinterest, she might as well have had a physical bleeding wound, her pain was so obvious. “Why would you stick around? You don’t have to give me your kidney, now.”
“Okay, first of all? I never had to give you my kidney. I wanted to,” I stated firmly. “And if you think I’m just going to drop off a bunch of gifts and disappear from your life, I’m not going to. Unless that’s what you want.”
“It’s not what you want?” she asked, more of that tough exterior crumbling.
“No. It’s not.” I wished there was some way I could make her trust me. “I just found out I have sisters. After a lifetime of being an only child. I didn’t grow up with you guys, and the bond you all have is something that I missed out on. But I don’t want to keep missing out. If you can find room for me in your life, I’ll be there. Whatever way you want me to be.”
She sniffed and looked down. I saw a tear fall to stain the knee of her jeans. “Okay.”
I leaned forward and put my hand on her knee, covering that tiny drop. “Molly. I promise you. I know what it’s like for someone to walk out. I’m not going to walk out on you.”
“Sorry.” She looked up and wiped her eyes behind her glasses. “I’m just upset, you know? It’s been a shitty day.”
“It has been,” I agreed. “I wanted more than anything to make this better for you. With all my heart, I wanted it. And if I can’t help you this way, I’m going to help you another way.”
Her head turned slightly, and she looked at me with almost suspicious curiosity. “What do you mean?”
“I mean—” I slowed myself way down. “I have to talk to your mother. But there are doors that my money can open for you. In ways that aren’t fair. But we’re talking about your life. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure it’s a good one.”
After a thoughtful silence, Molly said quietly, “I wish I would have known you before now. Like, when I was a kid.”
“I definitely understand the sentiment. There are a lot of people in my life who I wish I had known longer.” The man who waited for me upstairs, for example, Googling away and trying to save me the way I wanted to save Molly. “But I think we meet people we need when the time is right. I wasn’t the same person back then as I am now.”
“I’m not, either. Like, I can read. That’s one thing.” She snorted a laugh, and a weight in my chest lifted. “Okay. If you promise you’re not going to just vanish…if you promise that I can trust you…”
I took her hand in mine and squeezed it, looking directly into her eyes. “I promise, Molly. I’m your sister. For life. I’m not going anywhere.”
It was a promise I was damn sure going to keep.
Chapter Sixteen
Though it was nice to be home, again, returning to New York with a feeling that I hadn’t really accomplished anything didn’t put me in the best mood. Even Olivia’s baby cuddles weren’t enough to break me out of my funk. I returned to work with a caged animal under my ribs, an anger and disappointment clawing to get out.
“Good morning,” Mel said, rising from her desk to follow me into my office.
I tossed my coat across the sofa and sat at my desk to start up my computer. “What do I have today?”
She kept her gaze trained on the tablet in her hand, one finger sliding across the screen. “Not a lot. You’ve got Jason coming in to show you his September picks, and Deja wants to brainstorm our winter focus at two—”
“What happened to the meeting with the Yves St. Laurent guy?”
“Don’t worry about that. Deja has it handled,” Mel assured me.
That rage and unfairness that had tormented me since we’d returned built up in my throat in the form of a shout that I had to force down. “Excuse me?”
