“I’m sorry, Molly.” I hate that she has feelings for me that I can’t return, but more than that, I hate that I fed those feelings on any level—even if I told myself it was only physical, even if it was just one night.
She shakes her head and traces the same pattern over and over. “Not as sorry as I am.”
“About what happened that night . . .” I feel like an insensitive prick for bringing this up right now, but I don’t have a choice. “I know we agreed not to tell Ava, but considering how things have changed, I need to tell her now.”
“Don’t,” she says. She shakes her head and locks her pleading eyes on mine. “Jake, please don’t. It’s a bad idea.”
“Why?”
“It was one night. You were drunk, and she was engaged to Harrison.”
“If it doesn’t matter, then why can’t I tell her?”
“You know she won’t like it.”
“I can’t argue with that.” More than not like it—I’m afraid that my mistake will make Ava obsess again about this idea that Molly is everything she isn’t and was supposed to be. I’ll explain how it happened and why. I’ll tell her that it didn’t mean anything. But I have this rotting feeling in my gut that none of that will matter to Ava. What if this is how I lose her? “I don’t like this hanging over us. I don’t like keeping secrets from Ava.” I hesitate for a beat. “I don’t like making you my dirty secret. It’s not fair to any of us.”
Molly rubs the locket on her necklace and then squeezes it in a clenched fist before taking a breath and nodding. “Just let me think about it, okay? Let me think of a way to . . .”
I mentally finish that sentence. To soften the blow? To protect your relationship after Ava learns the truth? “You’re as afraid of losing her as I am,” I say.
Her eyes water. “We can’t tell her yet. Things are so new and fragile between you two.”
“And you as well?” I ask.
She nods. “Please, Jake, I’m begging you not to tell her yet.”
There’s a knock on the glass, and I look over my shoulder to see Brayden at the door, reaching for his keys.
“I don’t like the secret,” I say, quickly now, because his key’s in the lock.
“And I don’t like that you picked her over me even when she took herself out of the running.” She shrugs as Brayden pushes into the bar. “Sometimes we have to deal with things we don’t like.”
Ava
Molly’s at the table, papers spread out in front of her, tears rolling down her cheeks. I immediately think of the weeks after my husband left me when I was confronted with not only the worst heartache of my life but with the reality of the debt he’d gladly handed over. I felt stupid for the assumptions I made and guilty for embracing a pointlessly lavish lifestyle.
“Molly, are you okay?”
She startles and sweeps all the papers into a pile. “You’re home early.”
“Yeah. Sorry.” I turn away, understanding that she doesn’t want me to see whatever she was studying.
“It’s your house. You can be here any time you want. I just thought you had children’s theater auditions or something tonight?”
I shake my head, and when I turn back to her, she’s sliding the stack of folded papers into her purse. “I’m meeting Jake’s niece to help her with her audition piece, but I’m not heading over there for a couple of hours. Are you okay?”
She gives a shaky smile. “I’m fine. Great, actually. I met with Jake and Brayden today, and they’re going to hire me as their new northeast regional sales rep. It’s totally different than anything I’ve done before, but I’m actually pretty excited about it.” She blows out a breath. “I’m just indulging in a little pity party that my life didn’t turn out the way I wanted. I thought I’d be juggling social engagements, and instead I’m juggling bills.”
“This is why adulting became a verb.”
She laughs. “Oh my God, you’re an English teacher. You’re supposed to hate that.”
“Not at all. In fact, I don’t know why it hasn’t been a verb for centuries. Our parents had to deal with this shit too, didn’t they?”
“Yes, but they’d tell you they weren’t as coddled as children as we were, and that’s why adulthood wasn’t a brutal a wakeup call for them.”
“Whatever,” I mutter. “They weren’