God, it was early.
Molly didn’t even think the birds were awake yet. Nobody else was. She’d managed to sneak into her winter attire and out of the house making very little sound. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but she guessed somewhere between five and six in the morning—closer to five, judging by the fact that Jo wasn’t even up yet.
There was no sound but the crunching of her boots in the snow, and when she stood still, the silence was almost eerie. It was still dark and she wasn’t terribly familiar with the area, so she wandered out behind the garage where she knew there was a big stump to sit upon and plopped herself down on it with a world-weary sigh.
“What the hell happened to my life?” she whispered into the stillness, the puff of her breath visible as it drifted away into the atmosphere.
Kristin hadn’t said a single word to her for the rest of the night. When she didn’t return right away from the bathroom, Molly went up to check on her. She was already under the covers in the bed and—Molly was sure—feigning sleep. Molly knew they were going to have to have a serious discussion, more likely several of them, but she just hadn’t had the energy last night. She’d had a little too much rum, and the idea of arguing around and around in a pointless circle with Kristin was just too exhausting to entertain. Instead, she’d closed the door and gone back downstairs to laugh and joke with the others, telling them that Kristin wasn’t feeling well and had decided to retire early.
It was something she felt decidedly guilty about now and it was probably the main reason she hadn’t slept. The bed was cozy and comfortable and she’d sensed the familiar warmth of Kristin’s body heat next to her and still, she’d never felt so cold and lonely in her life.
Now she was out in the dead of winter, in the freezing dark of the early morning, because she couldn’t stand lying there for one more second. At least if she was moving, she’d feel like maybe she was getting the tiniest bit of exercise. She stood up again and began walking a large circle around the garage.
Am I being too hard on her?
It was a thought she had often, too often for her liking. It forced her to stop heaping all the blame for the failing relationship on top of Kristin and take some of it herself. Last night was a perfect example. Rather than settling into the bed next to her partner and talking about what was bothering her, what was bothering them, she had run away. It’s what she did best and she inwardly cursed her mother for teaching her the fine art of never facing a problem head-on. If you ignore it, it’s not there.
She loved her mother to pieces, but the woman was queen when it came to avoiding conflict. Oh, she’d be upset about something, lose sleep over it for weeks, even give the cold shoulder to the source, but she’d never face it directly. Her mother deferred all decisions to her husband without even knowing it. When Molly’s father asked his wife for her input, her most common answer was to shrug and wave a dismissive hand and say, “Oh, I don’t care,” even when she did.
So her father was left to make all the decisions and to hear about it later when he made one that his wife suddenly didn’t agree with. Molly had watched this behavior over and over as a child, as a teenager, and as a young adult. She vowed never ever to be that way, especially in her relationship. Yet here she stood, in the black of predawn in the middle of winter, pacing in the snow rather than facing her problems, hoping they’d all just disappear on their own if she ignored them. She was a carbon copy of her marshmallow of a mother.
The most frustrating thing, though, was that she knew it. She knew it and yet she couldn’t find a way to make herself stand up, to say what she felt, to act like her opinion counted, like it mattered. When she and Kristin had moved into their house a couple years back, they were painting their bedroom. Kristin had two paint chips from the hardware store—a soft lavender and an earthy khaki. She’d asked Molly which one she liked better.
Molly had looked at them both, shrugged, and responded, “Oh, I don’t care. You pick.”
Kristin picked the khaki, and now Molly hated the color of their bedroom and blamed Kristin for it.
In her defense, though, it wasn’t all her own fault. Of that, she was well aware. When had Kristin’s priorities gotten so out of whack? On her way out of the bedroom that morning, Molly had glared insidiously at the Blackberry on the dresser and her fingers had literally itched to pick it up and whip it across the room. She suspected she’d feel an enormous wave of satisfaction to see it shatter into a million pieces and fall to the floor. If Kristin gave her half the amount of attention she paid to that stupid piece of electronic equipment, they’d be two much happier women, of that she was sure.
That’s why Molly couldn’t regret that she’d been having so much fun with Darby over the past couple of days. Darby listened to her. Darby looked at her. Darby didn’t seem to be thinking about her job when Molly was talking to her. She actually made eye contact and seemed genuinely interested in what Molly was saying. Molly felt like she got all of Darby’s attention when they were talking, not just a certain percentage of it. It had been ages since she’d felt what it was like to be the focus of somebody else. Somebody like Kristin.
Darby also flirted with her mercilessly. Molly knew it was something she should probably put an end to, but if she was going to be honest with herself, she’d have to admit that part of her—a big part of her—was enjoying the green tint of jealousy that Kristin had been sporting.
That’s right. There are still women who want me, even if you don’t anymore.
She immediately felt guilty for the thought. The gut-wrenching truth was, plain and simple, she missed Kristin. She missed her so much, it was like a constant, physical ache in her body as well as her mind.
She shook her head and continued doing slow, easy laps around the garage, willing it to get lighter out so she could take the path through the woods without feeling like she was being swallowed by them. She rounded the back corner of the garage, so lost in her own thoughts that she ran straight into another body. A thick-mittened hand clamped over her mouth and muffled her startled scream, pulling her body close and holding her tightly.
“Shh. It’s me,” Darby whispered as she chuckled. “You want to wake up the whole house?”
“Jesus Christ,” Molly hissed when Darby removed her hand. “You scared the living shit out of me.”
“Sorry. I was sure you must have heard me coming; it’s so quiet out.”
Molly inhaled deeply, bidding her racing heart to slow down. “No. I didn’t hear a thing. Lost in my own head, I guess.”
“Well, still. I’m sorry I scared you.” Darby laid a hand on her shoulder and Molly looked up at her. Her dark hair was tousled, but Molly was learning that it always looked that way. She was wearing jeans and Jo’s ski jacket, so Molly suspected she’d dressed in a hurry. Flattery closed in on her as she realized that Darby had probably seen her outside and had quickly donned whatever clothing was available so she could join her in the chill morning air. Molly had wanted to be alone with her ruminations, but Darby’s presence was not unwelcome.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Darby said as they automatically continued on Molly’s circular path.
Molly tucked her hand in the crook of Darby’s elbow and tried for a smile, but felt it appear as a grimace instead. “Thanks.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“There’s not really a lot to say.”
“Okay.” Darby nodded and they walked.
After a few minutes of silence, Molly blurted, “I just don’t know what to do, Darby. I don’t know how I got here and I don’t know how to fix it and I don’t know what to do. You know?”
Darby frowned. “Kristin obviously doesn’t know what she has.”
Molly sighed. “Thank you for saying so, but that’s not quite true.”
“Sure it is. I’ve seen the way she’s treated you while you’ve been here. She’s been on her damn cell half a dozen times even though she knows how you feel about it and she was already two days late.”
Molly was impressed by Darby’s observations and despite the fact that a small part of her wanted to defend her partner, a larger part welled with indignation. “I hate that damn thing.”
“Why wouldn’t you? She certainly hasn’t allowed you to forget about it.” Darby’s tone was angry, like she was pissed off on Molly’s behalf.
“She wasn’t always like this, you know.”
“Yeah, well, she’s definitely like this now.”
“I don’t know what happened. I keep wracking my brain to pinpoint the moment when it all went to hell, but I can’t find it.”
“If I were you, I’d dump her ass.”
Molly’s eyes snapped to Darby’s. “Don’t you think that’s extreme?”
“You’re obviously not happy.” Darby shrugged, as if she thought things were incredibly simple.
“But I was. I’d like to get back there.”
“Do you think you can?”
Molly watched their feet, her voice a whisper. “I don’t know.”
“You deserve better.”
“Maybe.” Molly said without conviction.
“You do, Molly.” Darby sounded adamant, firmly insistent. They rounded the back of the garage and started along the far side, away from the view of the house. Darby suddenly swung Molly around and pushed her backward against the wooden shingles. Molly blinked and then focused on Darby’s blue eyes as they bored into hers from only inches away. “You deserve so much better,” Darby whispered before her lips descended onto Molly’s.
Molly was taken so off-guard that she was momentarily caught up in the moment and made no attempt to stop what was happening as her eyes drifted closed. Darby’s mouth was soft and warm. And talented, was a thought that zipped through her brain as Darby slipped her tongue easily between Molly’s willingly parting lips. The solid contact of Darby’s tongue ring surprised her, but not in a bad way, and she felt herself sinking into the sensation. Molly couldn’t recall the last time Kristin had kissed her like this, so thoroughly, with such intensity, every part of her communicating that there was so much more to come. Molly’s body responded instantly, a flood of heat rushing to the juncture between her thighs as Darby pressed more firmly into her. So good, she thought absently. It feels so good…
Darby must have dropped her mittens to the ground because the next thing Molly felt was the cool skin of strong, bare hands on her face, then long fingers burrowing into her hair. “I’d treat you like a queen,” Darby murmured, pulling her lips from Molly’s only long enough and far enough to speak. “You deserve to be treated like a queen. Don’t you know that?” She covered Molly’s mouth again without allowing her any time to respond.
The kiss was deeper this time, Darby exploring every possible inch of Molly’s mouth with great skill. When she pushed her jean-clad thigh against and then between Molly’s, Molly gasped—partly in surprise and mostly in pleasure, vaguely noticing that her own thighs separated without any instruction from her brain. Darby applied the smallest pressure and a jolt of desire shot through to Molly’s core, forcing a gasp up from her lungs.
Feeling the very last vestiges of her control slipping from her grasp like the string to a helium balloon swept up by a strong wind, Molly managed to plant one hand on Darby’s chest and push feebly. Turning her head to the side—a task that proved to be more difficult than expected—she hissed, “Wait. Darby, wait.”
Darby’s hands were strong, cupping Molly’s chin firmly and turning her head back around. “It’s okay,” she said. “It’s okay.” She kissed Molly again, and again Molly’s conscience warred with her desire. After several more long seconds, she tried again.
“Darby,” she uttered, wrenching her lips from the younger ones keeping her so occupied. “Just…wait. Stop. Please?” She was horrified to hear her own voice crack and mentally warned herself not to cry. “Please stop?”
Darby blinked several times as if waking from a dream. She smoothed a thumb over Molly’s eyebrow, her cheekbone, her swollen bottom lip. “What’s wrong?”
Molly gave a halfhearted swipe at Darby’s hand, frightened by the dangerously primal pang it sent through her. “I can’t do this.”
“Why not?” Darby looked honestly confused.
“Why not?” Molly repeated with surprise. “Because I’m with somebody.”
“Yeah, somebody who doesn’t even notice you half the time.”
Molly looked down at her feet, buried in snow. Despite the season, her body felt hot. She knew her cheeks were flaming and she was truly uncertain whether it was because of the kissing or the guilt that came with it. “Look, I know we don’t have the best relationship right now, but—”
“You have no relationship,” Darby interrupted, her eyes flashing. “Can’t you see that? Any stranger looking in on this week would be very surprised to learn you and Kristin are together.”
“I know.” Molly rubbed at her forehead. “But we are together and I…” She was startled by the certainty in her voice. “I still love her.” Darby snorted and Molly smacked her arm. “Hey,” she snapped angrily. “You’re entitled to your opinion, but as my friend, I expect you to show me at least a little bit of respect.”
Darby’s eyes dropped. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just—”
“No. Don’t.” Molly held up her hand as Darby leaned forward ever so slightly, worried that she couldn’t take it if Darby started to say any more of all the right things. Her body still thrummed with desire and she didn’t know how long her defenses would last under another assault. Her expression softened. “Look. I like you, Darby. I like you a lot. But the bottom line is that I’m not ready to throw in the towel on my relationship yet and I’m not the kind of girl who can have an affair.” She grinned wryly, trying to lighten the moment. “I’m Catholic. The guilt would eat me alive.”
Darby leered at her for a moment, her face saying she’d like to eat Molly alive. Molly waited, hoping she’d gotten through. Finally, Darby nodded her assent. “Okay. I’m not bowing out gracefully, but I’ll step aside. For now.”
“That’s all I ask.”