Rachel flipped the lid of her cup up and then down.Click. Click.“It doesn’t have to end, you know.”
“Of course it does. Gavin’s meant for someone else,” Molly said.
Cassidy, specifically, seemed like the one for him. Molly was a side trip through the country on his way to his destination.
“And you?” Kaiya asked. “Who are you meant for?”
Molly pointed to herself. “I’m meant for me.”
I am enough for myself.Wasn’t that the mantra she practiced over and over?
She believed it. Really, she did.
“It’s the credit thing again,” Kaiya said, looking to Sadie for apparent confirmation. “Because, Molly, you are enough for you. You’re more than enough for everyone. That’s how amazing you are as a human. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have more if that’s what you’d like. What you choose. If you want Gavin and he wants you, you can have that.”
Oh, hell, it would just be easier to tell them about Gavin’s ability to go down on her.
“Four times.” Molly said, sipping at her tumbler. “We had sex four times in twenty-four hours. I didn’t even know it was possible. There were also other things we did involving our mouths that probably require more mimosa for me to discuss.” There. “Questions?”
“I…” Kaiya raised her hand, glancing around. “I have questions.”
“Okay, shoot,” Molly said. She’d apparently answer anything, as long as she didn’t have to dig too deep.
“Have you checked on Gavin to be sure he can still walk?” Kaiya asked. “I’m a little worried about him.”
“Oh my God.” Sadie dropped her face to her hands. “You have his cell, ask him.”
“No,” Molly said. “You may not ask him. That was told to you in Sunday Morning Mimosa confidence.”
They all knew and understood the sanctity of that confidence. Respected it and abided by it.
There weren’t a ton of rules in their friendship, but that was the prime directive. That and don’t fall for anyone’s ex.
They didn’t need to go there, though.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Not all battles are worth the fight.” —Amanda, South Carolina, United States
Molly
Molly had given up on three things. One, winning the damn contest. Even though she’d risen to the top like the cream in a bowl of fresh milk, she immediately sank shortly thereafter. Firmly, again, in second place.
The gaggle of puppies—was that what it was called when you had a whole bunch of them? A group of squirrels was called a scurry. A group of crows a murder. Were puppies a gaggle?
No, probably a pack. A pack of puppies.
Didn’t matter what you called them, those puppies worked. Even makeup and Molly couldn’t compete. Even Gavin and his sausage jokes had nothing on that level of cuteness.
Peter and Chris’s couple on their next date? Visiting kittens. Because, of course they did.
Knitting could not compete with puppies and kittens. That was just how it was.
The second thing Molly gave up on? That the price of that house she’d let herself fall in love with would ever fall within her budget. Especially since her car was once again in the shop. Because, of course it was. Suddenly her homebuying budget was more like a down payment at a spot in the community garden.
She was trying really damn hard not to be too disappointed. But she was disappointed. Her bones seemed to creak with disappointment.
The third thing? The scarf she started in their knitting class with Charlie and Agnes. She made a two-by-two-inch square before calling it quits. Mostly because her square looked like she’d been in a car driving over an extremely bumpy road while she made the stitches. They were lumpy and they were bumpy and not one of them was even.
