“Myproblem?! What’syours? You knew I was going to be here. You know—here, on the show!” I freeze.What is she talking about?This is not the conversation I was expecting to have. Meanwhile, Molly’s rant continues. “And obviously you took this job just to piss me off, because it clearly doesn’t seem like you’re planning to apologize!”
She flings her hands outward as she talks, sending the cable car swaying with the force of her movement. My heart practically leaps into my throat, and I grip the cold metal seat underneath me.
“What are you talking about?” I ask shakily, and frown.
“What do you mean, ‘what am I talking about?’” Molly fires back. She’s pacing now, which is sort of comical to watch, given that the available space to move around in is about five feet by five feet. Meanwhile, I’m nearly frozen to the spot, trying to wrap my head around howanyonecan remain calm at approximately 8,000 feet above ground, dangling in a tiny cable car—let alone stomp about angrily like a petulant child.
“Shit, Molly, can you please sitdown?”
She pauses mid-step and whips her head around to face me, blinking in surprise. Something must click, because she looks arounddazedly, as if only just realizing where she is, and promptly drops her ass to the bench.
“Look, I didn’t know that you were going to be here. How would I know that?”
“I sent you a message.”
My frown deepens—the words don’t compute. Did she send me a fucking carrier pigeon that I missed or something? Because, last I checked, I had Molly blocked on every single social media platform I could think of.
“What are you talking about?”
“I saw your comment on your friend Glen’s post on LinkedIn about being interested in working this gig. I guess we have some mutual friends or something, and it showed up on my feed—I don’t know how these things work. So, I messaged you to tell you that I would be here. And you didn’t answer.”
LinkedIn?I didn’t even think of Molly having an account there. I guess I just assumed she didn’t have much of a career either, after what she pulled in college.
“Did it say that I saw the message?”
“No.”
“Well,obviouslyI didn’t read it then.”
“I didn’t know if you had that stupid option turned on or not—you know, where you can let people see if you’ve read their message? So, I just, like,assumedyou knew. It’s not my fault you don’t check your messages like a normal person.”
I blink, trying to wrap my head around the words coming out of her mouth.
“So…you knew.”
“What?”
“YouknewI would be here.” My voice is barely above a whisper.
“Well, no…I figured you’d back out, once you saw my message.”
I think back to that first night, when I came face to face with Molly on the deck, and I realize—seeing me wasn’t a surprisefor her.Icame into this situation completely blindsided, butshehad been prepared, even if just a little bit, for the chance that I might be here.
That’s why she had looked at me like that.
Molly thought I had read her message and decided to come in spite of it.
“Well, I didn’t see your message.”
“I think we’ve established that.”
Then I remember the second part of the bomb she just dropped on me.
“And—wait, what the hell do you mean aboutmenot planning to apologize? Apologize for what?”
Because if anyone should be apologizing, it’s Molly.
“For ghosting me.”
