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Molly was happy it was a Monday because it meant the taproom was closed and she could just face-plant on her bed if she wanted to, even though it wasn’t even supper time yet. She’d helped out all weekend so Irish could keep going into the house to check on Mallory and the baby, and they’d been busier than usual because everybody wanted to congratulate Irish and see pictures of Leeza.
Plus her parents had decided the trim needed repainting in all of the public rooms. Especially the bottom trim because it got scuffed by chair legs being moved around. That had required a lot of plastic sheeting and since she was the young one, she got to do the crouching down part of the painting.
No matter how tired she was though, she seemed to have some kind of internal alarm that let her know when it was library closing time. And when she heard Callan’s footsteps on the stairs, she smiled. He was about to knock on the door at the top of the staircase when she opened it.
“Hey, come on in,” she said, taking a step back. She expected a hello kiss as he went by, but he looked distracted and didn’t pause.
He went straight to her couch and sat down on the edge, looking stiff and uncomfortable. Then he looked up at her briefly and she’d never seen his face so serious. “We need to talk about this dating thing.”
“What do you mean?”
He picked at an imaginary fuzz on his pants, then, not meeting her eyes. “I think it’s time to end the ruse.”
Panic swept through Molly, making her skin tingle, but she tried to force it back. Maybe he meant that it was time to stop pretending there was a ruse at all—to admit that somewhere along the way, it had all become real. And that he was okay with not having kids because she was worth it.
“I think Stonefield’s gotten to know me well enough,” he continued. “But when two people date for a length of time, people start expecting...things.”
He paused, as though to give her an opportunity to speak, but she couldn’t come up with anything to say. There were too many emotions clamoring around in her head to form any kind of a coherent thought.
“I want us to still be friends,” he continued, as if she and millions of other women hadn’t heard that before. “I mean it, Molly. I don’t want to lose what we have, but we have to stop pretending it’s something it’s not before—”
“I get it,” she said, cutting him off because she didn’t want to hear anymore. It was taking every bit of focus and self-discipline she could fight for to keep her expression neutral and her eyes dry. The longer he was in this room talking, the harder it was going to get. “It’s time.”
He stood and there was a long, awkward moment when it looked like he might be deciding on whether or not to hug her. If he did, she’d have a complete and total breakdown, so she took a step back.
“I was just on my way out,” she lied. “But of course we’ll still be friends. I’ll probably see you at the café tomorrow.”
“Okay.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and his shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “I’ll... I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As soon as her door closed behind him, Molly wanted to collapse into a heap of sobbing misery, but she refused to allow herself to do that. She’d gotten herself into this situation and, just as her friends had warned her would happen, she’d put her whole heart into it.
Now it was broken and she had nobody to blame but herself.
Without thinking it through—just wanting him to leave—she’d told him she was on her way out, so now she had to go somewhere. She didn’t want to, but it probably beat crying all night, even if all she did was drive around in circles.
She ended up at the Sutton house because that was where she always went when she was looking for comfort. And she needed her best friend.
Luckily, Ellen was out and Irish had taken the boys fishing, so she had Mallory to herself. And Leeza, of course.
Mallory had taken one look at Molly and settled into the rocking chair with the baby in her arms. “Tell me everything. But promise me you won’t be offended if I fall asleep while you’re talking to me.”
“It’s me, Mal. There’s a good chance I won’t even notice.”
“That’s true. What happened?”
“It was nothing dramatic. I guess he decided it was time for the act to come to an end. We agreed to fake date for a reason and it worked. It was the plan all along for us to break up at some point.” She shrugged as if she could force herself to believe it meant that little. “I guess we reached that point.”
“I didn’t even realize you two were still fake dating. I honestly thought it just became a real thing along the way. We all did.”
“We never talked about it but, to be honest, I think I felt that way, too. I just never thought about it, I guess. We were just together and I enjoyed it and the labels didn’t really matter to me.”
“But he wasn’t faking, either. I’ve seen you together too often not to see that, and I don’t understand what happened.”
“Yes, you do. You even warned me, remember? The picket fence?” Molly flopped back against the chair with a sigh. “He wants kids more than he wants me.”
“Molly, I don’t think it’s that cut-and-dried, and you know that sometimes you read more into things than what’s really there. Does he know how you feel?”
“He knows I don’t want to have kids.”
“Did you tell him why? And I actually meant, does he know that you weren’t faking anymore, not how you feel about kids.”
“I told him why I can’t have kids, and he didn’t push like you guys, but I don’t think he really understands.”
“Of course he doesn’t.” Mallory shifted the baby on her shoulder, trying to get comfortable. “Try to imagine your parents not wanting children because they might have you. And don’t even tell me they probably would have been happier that way because you know that’s the chemicals in your brain lying to you. You’re amazing and we all love you so much, so hearing you say you’re afraid to make a little person who’s like you doesn’t make sense to those of us who love you and wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”
“It was so hard, though. It still is.”
“I don’t know what it’s like to be in your head, but I know what it’s been like to be your best friend for your entire life. I can see that it’s hard for you sometimes, but I can also see that you went all through childhood and school with no idea why it was hard. And a lot of the people in your life still don’t give you the support and grace they should.”
“Callan does,” she said without thinking. “He researched ADHD and he’s learned about things that are hard for me and he adapts how we do things so it works for me. He doesn’t make me choose things and he knows how to distract me when I can’t calm down and he lets me talk through movies.”
“Molly, that man loves you.”
“He wants us to be friends.”
“He probably wants more than that. He wants to stop pretending because he wants it to be real, but you both know it won’t work out in the long run if you can’t agree on children, so what else is he supposed to do?”
“I don’t know. I wish... I just wish things could have kept going the way they were.”
“Which would have gotten you what you wanted—him and only him. But he still wouldn’t have gotten what he wanted.”
“I want him to be happy,” Molly said because it was the truth. Then she swiped at a tear running down her cheek. “But I want me to be happy, too.”
When Callan woke the next morning, he told himself going to the Perkin’ Up Café would be a bad idea. He repeated it to the steamy mirror after his shower. He chanted it like a mantra as he walked down the sidewalk.
And he said it out loud as he pulled open the café’s door and stepped inside.
He wanted to see Molly. He needed to see her, actually. Maybe if he could see her now, not long after her alarm went off, he’d know the truth. If she was her usual bright-eyed, cheerful self, he would know he’d never been more than a fake boyfriend and a no-strings fling.
But if he could see the evidence of a sleepless night and maybe some tears, he’d know it had been more to her. Maybe that was worse. Maybe knowing she cared for him would make it harder, but he didn’t think so. He’d find some solace in that, even though it wouldn’t change anything.
His gaze sought her out as though he had some kind of inner Molly radar. She was leaning against the counter, talking to Chelsea, but she stopped when he walked in. It seemed to take forever to reach the counter, as if he was moving in slow motion, and he kept reminding himself that technically nothing had changed. If the dating hadn’t been real, the breakup couldn’t be real. And she’d agreed they’d still be friends, so there was no reason to avoid her.
“Good morning, ladies,” he said, trying to sound as natural as possible. It didn’t come out any more natural than the forced smiles they gave him in return.
Molly clearly hadn’t slept well. He wouldn’t say it made him happy, but it gave him a little peace of mind. If she’d cried, it had either been only a few tears or she had an exceptional way with makeup. Her eyes were slightly red, but not puffy at all.
What didn’t make him happy was that she’d lost her sparkle. Not totally, but it had definitely been dimmed. Sure, it was temporary and it let him know their relationship hadn’t meant nothing to her, but he didn’t want her to be hurting as much as he was.
“The usual?” Chelsea asked.
“Yes, please.” She stepped away to prepare his coffee, her back to him, and he really hoped she wouldn’t mess up his drink on purpose to get back at him for breaking up with her friend. A shot of hazelnut flavoring wasn’t going to improve his day at all.
“Have you ordered the next Books & Brews books from interlibrary loan yet?” she asked, and he could see she was trying like hell for a light, breezy tone. She missed, but the effort gave him hope they could maybe come out of this with their friendship intact.
“Not yet. I found the movie on a streaming service, though. I already read the book, so I’ll watch it.
Her laugh was like a balm to his ragged nerves. “I don’t know if I’ll read the book. But the movie’s in my notebook with a star next to it, so I’ll watch it in time.
“Here you go,” Chelsea said. “I’ll add it to your tab.”
“Thank you.” He couldn’t very well take the lid off and sniff it for errant flavorings right in front of her, so he’d have to take his chances. After picking up the cup, he smiled at Molly. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”
“You live next door, so probably,” she said, and her return smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Have a good day at work, Callan.”
There was nothing he could really say to that since he already knew he wasn’t going to have a good today. Tomorrow didn’t look good, either. He wasn’t sure how long it would take for him get through a day without thoughts of Molly filling him with heartbreak and regret, but it wouldn’t be anytime soon.
He nodded and forced himself to turn around and walk out of the café without looking back.
Molly managed to hold the frustration and pain in check until the door closed behind Callan, but as soon as he was gone, she made a sound like a toddler having a temper tantrum. She couldn’t help it, and she was thankful the only customers in the place had left about two minutes before her ex-fake-boyfriend walked in.
“I’m super proud of you for not doing that while he was still here,” Chelsea said, shaking her head. “I know that was hard for you.”
“I meant to get my drink and run so I’d be gone before he got here, but then we started talking and I waited too long.”
“If it’s any consolation, he looks as unhappy as you do.”
Molly sighed. “It’s not really a consolation. It’s a reminder that we’re probably actually meant to be together, but I can’t ask him to give up his dream of having kids. And I can’t get past my fear of having kids who’ll be miserable.”
“For what it’s worth, Molly, I think you’d be a great mom. You don’t have to be perfect, you know. No moms are. You would love your kid the way you do everything—with your whole heart and so much love and joy.”
“But no clean laundry and a lost field trip permission slip and missing homework assignments I should have followed up on and didn’t.”
“Molly Cyrs, are you wearing dirty underwear right now?”
She actually gasped. “No. I am not, thank you very much.”
“So why would your kid? You make it sound like you can’t do anything, and you actually can. I know you have to work a little harder at it and have your notebook and all but you’re so awesome at so many things. And so many people love you.”
Molly wished she could find the right words to make everybody understand her fear that a child of hers would be unhappy. And it would be her fault. Molly’s ADHD didn’t seem to have come from either of her parents, but if it had, wouldn’t she blame that parent?
Or maybe she wouldn’t have had such a hard time growing up because the parent with ADHD would have understood her and supported her.
“Tell me something,” Chelsea said, in that tone friends use to indicate they’re about to throw down a winning hand. “Why can’t your kid have a notebook?”