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“You mean this very minute?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone at a time like this.”
Molly smiled, loving him for his concern. “I’ve already turned down one invitation for dinner. I prefer my own company tonight. I was going to order myself a decadent pizza, soak in a hot bubble bath and be especially self-indulgent for the next few hours.”
“I can come over, if you want.”
“Dad, I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine.”
It took her another five minutes to persuade him of that. When she hung up, Molly stood there for a few moments, attempting to connect with her feelings. The afternoon had been spent assuring everyone how well she was taking this divorce.
Really, what else was there for her to do? Pound the walls? Weep with frustration? Wallowing in regrets and recriminations was draining. She’d spent the past eight hours on her feet and lacked the energy for a pity party, especially when it would be so sparsely attended.
In the end, Molly changed into her most comfortablepair of shorts and propped her bare feet on the ottoman. She sat in front of the television and watched the evening news.
The tears that crept silently from the corners of her eyes were unexpected and unwelcome. She reached for a tissue and wiped her face. Her emotions were unpredictable when she was pregnant, and this was an emotional day.
She certainly wasn’t going to beat herself up over a few maverick tears. If she needed to cry about the divorce, then she should be able to do so.
Apparently she needed to cry.
“Oh, damn,” she said, angry with herself, and grabbed another tissue. It hurt, far more than she’d thought it would. Jordan was free to marry Lesley and live happily ever after with someone else.
She closed her eyes. At least she wasn’t walking out of her marriage empty-handed. This pregnancy was Jordan’s final gift to her.
Determined to ignore her need to weep, she called her favorite take-out place and ordered a deep-dish sausage pizza with extra cheese. She’d discovered she was ravenous. Crying took a lot of energy and if she needed to fuel those tears, what better way than with a Chicago pizza?
Her doorbell chimed forty-five minutes later. Carrying a twenty-dollar bill, Molly opened the front door to find Jordan standing on the other side.
His hands were deep in his pockets and he looked as if he wanted to be anyplace else. “You’re crying.”
She mocked him with a smile. “I never understoodwhy you wanted to be a builder when it’s obvious you would’ve made a great detective.”
He ignored her sarcasm. “Are you going to invite me in or are you going to make me stand on your porch all evening?”
She held open the screen door.
He stared at the twenty-dollar bill in her hand. “What’s the money for?”
“I thought you were the pizza delivery guy.”
Jordan’s frown deepened. “Pizza gives you heart-burn.”
Molly found it ironic that he could remember something like that, but not her birthday. “I take it there’s a reason you wanted to see me?”
He nodded and walked over to the sofa. “What’s been going on in here?” he asked, gesturing at the discarded tissues. It did look as if she’d held a wake, and in a manner of speaking she had, but that wasn’t something she wanted to share with her husband.
Ex-husband, she reminded herself.
“I’ve got a cold,” she lied, grabbing the tissues, wadding them up into a clump and holding it with both hands.
“Sit down,” he ordered.
“Is there a reason I should?”
“Yeah, I think we should discuss the…pregnancy.”
“The word isn’t all that hard to say,” she muttered under her breath, just loudly enough for him to hear.
