And I just think:yes.I need to be brave, like Kevin. I need to trust her to hear the truth, like Jon.
I need to tell her I’m in love with her.
And whether she believes in soul mates or not, I need to prove to her she’s mine.
CHAPTER 26Molly
I suppose I should make a confession.
Part of the reason I hate weddings and baptisms and anniversary parties so much is that their pageantry works on me. I hate to experience emotions, at least in public. And here I am, mopping up my mascara with my pinkies as I follow the crowd up the stairs to the terrace where the cocktail hour will be held.
I feel conspicuous. I feel off-brand. I feel like a sap.
“Molly,” Dez whispers in my ear. “Are youstillcrying?”
I elbow her away, sniffling, as I try to collect myself. Even for me, this is excessive. But those vows—especially Jon’s—hit me right in the gut.
And how could they not?
A speech about two people who met in high school, who loved each other from afar, who were always in the wrong place at the wrong time? Not to center myself at someone else’s wedding, but those vows could have been written about me and Seth.
I still don’t believe the soul mates part. I don’t believe happy endings are guaranteed, even for people who deserve one as much as Jon and Kevin.
But I believe that what Kevin did was brave. I want someone to standin my kitchen cradling frozen peonies and tell me what I’m too cowardly to profess myself. Andthatis why I’m crying.
I dodge away from my friends and make off toward the bathroom. It is mercifully cool inside, and, even more mercifully, empty.
I sit in a stall and collect myself. And then I stand in front of the mirror and touch up my makeup. I wipe away the evidence of my sadness and swipe over it with concealer. I refresh my red lipstick like it’s armor.
My phone vibrates with a new email, and I decide to check it while I wait for my face to de-puff.
I swallow. It’s from my dad.
The development process withBustedgot derailed because of more Covid delays, and I thought he was probably going to ghost me on it after I sent the treatment. But four months ago, to my utter shock, he said he liked it, and asked for a script. I sent that at the beginning of May and haven’t heard anything back.
I texted him to say I’m in town, hoping that would prompt an update. Usually he at least replies to my texts, even if it’s to blow me off. That he’s been radio silent probably means this email is bad news.
From: [email protected]
Date: Sat, July 17, 2021 at 7:15pm
Subject: script
Molly—Loma and Cory like your script. (I do too.) They want to meet in LA to discuss. Cassie will send times.
Afraid I’m not going to catch you this trip—I’m out of town—but I’ll take you to dinner after the meeting.
Holy fucking shit.
I start shaking, and laugh to myself like a crazy person in the bathroom alone.
I feel absurd for letting this affect me so much, but that casual aside—“(I do too)”—I’ve basically been waiting for that my whole life.
His email is quickly followed by another from Cassie, his long-suffering assistant, with a series of dates and times for next week.
I choose a week from Monday at 1:30 p.m. and write an email to my dad that I carefully construct so as not to convey too much excitement or expectation.
