With the pen drive inserted in the USB port, she scrolled through its contents. Photos of their summer filled the screen: Jesse behind the drums in a rowdy bar, the two of them eating hamburgers out of brown paper, and sitting on the banks of Grant’s Pond, their mountain bikes propped up against a pine tree while they tested the cool water.
But one image in particular really captured his essence—Jesse lying on a towel at the beach, staring into the lens, his look of adoration something she’d failed to register at the time.
As nostalgia warmed her insides, Molly tried to recall that day. They were happy then—enjoying their carefree summer—but even so, in the back of her mind, doubt loomed just out of reach.
Molly closed her laptop and rose from her chair. She’d go through the photos again over the weekend and might even pick a selection for his parents, but that picture would forever remain between just the two of them.
As for Jake, while Molly searched for dinner inspiration among the sparse offerings in her pantry, she tried her hardest not to think about him at all.
Tried and failed.
Restless, Molly opened the brown paper bag, pulled out the small white box, and peeked inside. On top of four uniform chocolate éclairs was a handwritten card that simply said, “Well done.Enjoy.”
She was in the middle of making some toast when her text alert chimed.
Jake:I was wondering if you’re free for an hour on Saturday. I’d like to talk to you about something.
Puzzled, she stared at her phone as raindrops struck the windowpanes with a soft patter.
Jake:Say 2:45 Saturday afternoon? I’ll pick you up.
An excitement surfaced, not unexpected but, when thinking about it rationally, unwarranted. Somewhere in his world, a woman named Ava lived her life parallel to his. For a moment, Molly considered asking him who she was but quickly decided that subject wasn’t suitable for a text.
Molly:I thought I confused you.
Jake:That’s not what I said and why we need to talk.
Molly:I’ll have to check my diary.
Jake:Sure. Get back to me.
Molly put her phone on to charge. There was no need to open her diary; her Saturdays had been mostly free since moving to Clifton Falls, but she’d wait a few days before getting back to him. She glanced at the bread still sitting in the toaster and sighed. Toast, what toast? It was time to open the cake box.
The éclairs were iced just the way she liked them, with thick chocolate icing, and filled with real whipped cream. Molly selected one and raised it to her lips, and as the pastry melted in her mouth, she had to stop herself from moaning out loud.
The second one was just as good, and by the time she went to bed, all four were gone.
Best freakin’ éclairs ever.
19
Fresh from the shower, Molly stood naked in front of the bathroom mirror, massaging her scars with a jade roller. Ever since puberty, she’d experienced a lot of interest from men, and she’d often responded to that interest out of naivety and, occasionally, loneliness.However, after her breast reduction before leaving for New York, she hadn’t much felt like dating.
At times, Molly wondered if her subsequent dry spell was a direct result of the surgery. Because while the change had been huge—both physically and emotionally—subconsciously, did the scars make her feel less desirable?
Determined to quell that opposing narrative, she pushed the thought aside, slipped on her bra and panties, and grabbed her phone off the nightstand.
Molly:What should I wear?
Jake:Dress casual. Bring a jacket. I’ll be there soon.
Molly:OK. And I have your apron.
Jake:Keep it. It suits you.
Despite her uncertainty, Molly smiled at his reply. It was something she didn’t have in her kitchen, a proper apron, but she’d still return it at some stage.
Molly:We’re not visiting your mother, are we?
