“You were there, yeah, but you didn’t know what I know. You didn’t understand the consequences any better than our child does right now.”
“Mol, I wasn’t a virgin. Unlike someone who was there that night. You knew I’ve had experience before. I’ve lived with two girlfriends. Good grief, I’m almost eight years older than you. If there was an innocent there, it sure wasn’t me.”
“It’s not about years.” Molly’s hands gripped the shoulder strap of her purse and shook. From nerves or anger, he didn’t know.
“Or about previous intimate involvement with other women?”
Molly didn’t respond in words, but her cheeks went red in a flash.
“I just don’t get the guilt you feel. I was the one who seduced you. Seriously, Mol, you’re not the bad guy here. Do you have any idea how many times I imagined making love with you before we finally did it?”
Matthew knew he sounded like an idiot. He knew he embarrassed Molly profoundly when he said crap like that, but he was desperate. Matt would beg her to stop hurting if it would help. He wanted to fix things so she wouldn’t feel sad like this.
As if he could argue Molly out of pain he couldn’t even comprehend. Maybe if she’d let him hold her, he could put her back together with his hands.
But, of course, that was ridiculous.
“Matt, you don’t understand how what I did ripped my soul in half, how it tore me away from God. By going to bed with you, I pulled you farther from Him. You can’t understand. You don’t know how close to Him you can be.”
Another auto cut in front of him, and he punched the horn. “What does that even mean? You’re not making sense.”
“You’re proving my point. You can’t see my perspective on faith or sin or sex or… anything. And it’s not about guilt; I know God forgives me. But there’s no going back from what we did. Event horizon.”
“Is that what I am then? A black hole?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it. You just don’t get the deeper part. This world sees sex as a nothing but a physical release, like a…a sneeze or something.”
Matt’s heart turned itself inside out. He couldn’t bear Molly thinking he only wanted to use her, felt nothing for the wonderful person she was. “That’s not how I see it! You’ve watched me dodge groupies. You’ve held my hand, pretended to be with me, and helped me get by them.”
“But I didn’t mean for you to take that seriously.”
“Whatever. I know emotional things are tied in with the physical stuff. There always has been for me. Every time, but especially with you. Maybe I don’t get the whole ‘religiously sacred’ idea you have about it—”
“It’s not about religion.”
“Okay, so I don’t get how God is at all involved with sex, but—”
“But that’s exactly why I told you three years ago we could only be friends!”
Matt sighed heavily. Not to be dramatic. The whole thing just made him so weary. “But can we even be that now? Can we still be friends?”
She looked at him.
He glanced back.
Molly bit on her bottom lip again; sadness and a kind of…longing reigned over her eyes. Her response was deliberate: “I honestly don’t know, Matthew. But what we don’t know fills the universe. If we’re going to share this kid, we’ll have to try.”
It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it was honest. He knew that. Molly’s candor was something he’d always liked about her. It wasn’t fair to stop liking it just because it wasn’t what he wanted to hear at this moment.
She was bang on. It wasn’t guilt “getting to her.” It was natural consequence. Matt had lied to himself. Nothing would get the past back. Things would have changed between them even if Molly hadn’t fallen pregnant to him.
The traffic cleared suddenly, and he hit the pedal hard. Molly’s city whizzed past them like so much history.
If Matt was honest—finally— he’d been lying to himself for a while. When he first told himself he could be “just friends” with the woman he wanted to fall in love with. With Molly so adamant about it, Matt thought he’d held back most of his heart. Another lie. He hadn’t. And he wasn’t okay with any of it.
He hadn’t been with anyone else—hadn’t even looked—since the night he met Molly.
He locked his jaw and squinted at a traffic signal ahead.
This woman owned Matt. And she hadn’t even paid a dime for the privilege.
She hadn’t needed to.
It wasn’t just her smile, her eyes, her hair, her body—mercy… It was her heart, her honesty, her loyalty. Matt’d forever hoped for more of her.
Matt admired Molly’s faith—envied it, actually. It was the only reason he’d gone so long without crossing her physical boundaries. But he hoped they could be together. If he could knock down the wall between them, maybe they’d even live together.
After that? Well, he could imagine.
Fantasy Molly in Matt’s head decorated his condo in L.A., strolled down red carpets on his arm, pressed her warm sleeping body close to his at night.
And woke in the morning to open herself to him? Matt burned all over. He shook his head. Then hoped Real Molly in the car seat next to him wouldn’t ask why he did so.
If she’d let her inhibitions go, they would’ve had a chance. Matt wanted to fall in love with Molly when it would’ve been an investment in their future—not a billion-dollar, single-bet at the roulette wheel.
He’d never recognized how big the gulf between them was. Matt was on the other side of the Grand Canyon, with so much baggage and no money to rent a donkey. He would never cross, never reach her.
The next traffic signal turned red, and the rental car jerked to a stop. Matt’s fingertips chafed at the rubbery bumps of the steering wheel’s hand-grips. His realization of his and Molly’s relative locations was like a new day without a dawn.
The tiny life, which grew inside Molly, though, was something else. A spark of hope in midnight black.
“It was my fault,” he blurted. “I always wanted more from you.”
She swallowed loud enough for Molly to hear. “I know. I always knew. I never should have led you on. It was cruel.”
Matt didn’t know how to answer her. Honestly, he never did, not anymore.
Green now. Green means go. He pushed down; the engine revved.
Molly was a good person. She’d be a good Mom. She would love their baby and do her best to see the child had the best life possible.
That was enough for Matthew.
It had to be. It was all he was ever gonna get.
Still. Matt’s heart keened, wailing out to the God he wasn’t sure he believed in.
“That’s it,” she said.
“Howzat?” Was Molly reading his mind again?
“Matt! Stop the car. It’s on the right. We’re here.”
The brakes squealed, and probably only two wheels carried them over the curb into the lot. This woman is carrying your child, ratbag. Are you trying to smash her into the bonnet? Be safe.
When he pulled into a space, Molly’s right hand was white-knuckled on the passenger side “Oh Crap” bar above her window, the left pressed instinctively against her lower abdomen.