She nods. “It’s all my fault.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Brad made his own choices, babe. And dating him—at the time—was exactly what I wanted. I don’t need to forgive you and you don’t need to apologise. There’s nothing to forgive.”
She hiccups, her face crumpling. “Are we okay?”
“The jury’s still out on that one,” I tease, pulling her into a hug. “Of course we’re okay, silly.”
Her arms squeeze me tight, and for a moment, I feel the tension in her body ease.
Her smile wobbles, but it’s radiant all the same. “I love you, Molly. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
“I know.” I laugh softly, pulling her in for another hug, sighing as she clutches me close. “I’m awesome.”
But then I pull back, my face softening as I admit the truth that’s been weighing on me. “Now, I have to tell you something.”
Her expression shifts, concern flickering in her eyes. “What is it?”
“I’m exhausted.” I grimace, feeling the weight of the words as I say them. “The wedding’s too much for me. I love you, but I can’t keep pushing myself like this.”
“Oh, babe,” she says, her voice full of sympathy as she hugs me again, tighter this time. “Thank you for telling me. Let’s move some stuff off your plate and onto the planners. Youdeserve to celebrate the honeymoon phase with Josh and not be stressed. I do enough of that for both of us.”
The relief is instant, a weight I hadn’t even realized I was carrying sliding off my shoulders.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice soft. “That would be great.”
We sit there for a moment longer, holding each other, before finally separating.
“Come on,” I say, pulling her up and smacking her lightly on the ass. “Your groom awaits.”
She stops mid-step, turning back to dig through her pocket. “Here.” She presses something into my hand.
I glance down at the small key. “What’s this?”
“Pete booked us a private villa,” she says, grinning. “The driver’s waiting out front. Consider this my sorry gift. You areformally dismissedfrom all wedding-related tasks for the rest of the weekend. I want you to go get yourself some orgasms. Uninterrupted ones this time.”
I blink at the key, then at her. “Well, damn, Bess.” I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re completely forgiven.”
“Good.” She smirks, slapping me on the butt. “Now go!”
I laugh, the sound light and easy. I’ll take her up on it—right after I speak to Sam.
That conversation might be a bit trickier.
SIXTEEN
MOLLY
Sam sits across from us by the pool, his expression carefully neutral as he takes a slow sip of his beer. Josh’s hand tightens on mine.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I mutter, lifting my own bottle. “You’re freaking me out.”
Sam’s lips quirk up. “Just processing. Though I can’t say I’m surprised.”
Josh leans forward. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on,” Sam chuckles, setting his beer down. “I’ve known about your thing for Molly since we were kids.
“Jesus, Sam.” Josh runs a hand through his hair.
