The Years of Loving You. Ella Harper

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they wait?’ Molly felt exposed, vulnerable. ‘It’s just – I’d really like to spend a bit of time with you.’

      ‘In the shower?’ Sam grinned and glanced down at himself. ‘I’m fully dressed.’

      ‘Then come in and get wet with me. Please.’ Molly hoped she didn’t sound desperate. But she really needed Sam. She needed him to be with her, to comfort her, to let her know he still loved her. Not just as a wife, but as a woman.

      ‘Molly, I’m really sorry. Can we call a rain check until tonight?’ Sam looked at his watch. ‘I really want to, but I have to get to the office.’

      ‘Sure.’ Molly turned away so he couldn’t see her tears. She heard the shower door open and felt Sam’s hand on her waist.

      ‘Molly. I’m not freaked out, I promise. I just have to be somewhere. And I meant it about tonight.’

      ‘But I really need you, Sam. I need you.’ Molly sounded whiny. She hated it when she sounded whiny. She got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body.

      ‘And I need to be somewhere else,’ Sam said firmly as he walked away.

      ‘Why do you never put me first?’

      ‘What?’ Sam stopped by the door.

      ‘Why do you never put me first?’ Molly repeated.

      Sam looked furious. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

      Molly shook her head. ‘I’m not. It’s just … I just sometimes feel like I come second for you, after your work.’

      Sam let out an impatient sound. ‘Really? Are you actually saying that to me?’

      ‘I’m actually saying that to you. And do you have to keep answering with questions?’

      ‘You’re being stupid.’

      Molly stared at Sam. ‘Am I? I’m being stupid because I want you to be here with me. To make me feel like I’m not just a walking disease. That you still see me. Me, as a person.’

      Sam bit his lip. ‘Of course I still see you, Molly. How could I not, when you’re standing there yelling at me? Oh, I’m sorry, that was another question. Do forgive me.’ He left and slammed the door.

      Molly walked into the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed and started to cry. Sam was trying hard to be good about her diagnosis. He was coping the only way he knew how. But she couldn’t help wishing he had put work to one side. Just this once. To stay with her, to put his arms around her. To love her and let her know that nothing would change between them.

      Molly knew Sam was hoping the diagnosis was wrong. She was too, obviously. But she knew it wouldn’t be any different to the first opinion. It would be exactly what she had heard from Mr Ward. Molly wasn’t being defeatist about it; she just knew when something made sense. She didn’t blame Sam for wanting to hear something else. He didn’t want her to be sick – why would he? He wanted her to go back to normal. He wanted everything to be normal between them again.

      But Molly knew things wouldn’t be normal again. She wasn’t being negative, she was being realistic. And Sam would be too. Once they had the second opinion confirmed, Molly knew Sam would be fine with the whole thing. He would be his usual practical self, sorting out a plan of action, wanting to know every type of medication available and basically taking control.

      It was for the best that Sam was this way, Molly decided. After all, she was so far out of control, she needed someone to rein her in. She just hoped Sam remembered she needed love and affection as well as support. And that rows were the last thing she needed. Even though she felt she might have started the one just now.

      She stood up and tiredly selected some underwear. As soon as she had the second opinion confirmed, she would go and see Ed. She was loath to pee on his bonfire when he had just got engaged, but they were best friends. If Ed had news like this, she would want to know. She would have to know. Molly also knew that if Ed had something like early-onset Parkinson’s, she would feel as if her heart was breaking.

       Molly and Ed

      February 1998

      ‘Tonight, I drink to the health of … of … Cardinal Puff, Puff, Puff.’

      Molly carefully tapped the top of the table three times, then underneath the table, clicked her fingers and looked helplessly at Ed. She was drunk. Hopelessly so. And she couldn’t for the life of her remember the rules of this dumb drinking game.

      ‘Three fingers on your glass, Molls,’ Ed whispered loudly, falling about laughing.

      ‘Don’t help her!’ Jody, Molly’s housemate nudged him indignantly. ‘There are rules in drinking games, you know.’

      Everyone in the lounge – a plethora of bodies that had somehow found their way back here from the student union – booed and hissed. Someone even tossed a cork coaster at Jody’s head.

      Ed blew Jody a kiss. ‘Ignore them. I love how pedantic you are. It’s endearing.’

      Jody made a show of looking cross for a second before giving him a wide smile. A sexy smile. One that said, ‘Fuck me later you massive bastard.’

      Ed deliberately broke the eye contact. He had slept with Jody when he and Molly first arrived at Lincoln University, oblivious to the fact that she had just moved into a house with his friend. Molly had no doubt told him about her new living arrangements before they had even left home, but names weren’t Ed’s strong point. Well, remembering names of random flatmates-to-be wasn’t his strong point. He hadn’t acquitted himself well on the Jody front; he’d done that shitty bloke thing of collecting up his clothes and sneaking out without a word in the early hours. Ed wasn’t proud of himself but he had regretted the union almost as soon as it was over and he couldn’t wait to get away.

      He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. He had found university to be a veritable goldmine when it came to available, willing pretty girls and he had over-indulged somewhat in the first few months. Ed was seriously beginning to wonder if he had some sort of problem, but his old school mate Boyd had ruefully reassured him that if he possessed half of Ed’s charm and good looks, he wouldn’t think twice about making an absolute killing, instead of surviving on what he described as ‘meagre pickings’.

      Molly caught Ed’s eye. She couldn’t help making a bit of a dig at him every so often about Jody. They had slept together months ago and Jody had waxed lyrical about it, providing Molly with rather more detail than she might have liked. She was fascinated on the one hand, appalled on the other. Molly didn’t want to visualise Ed with someone else but she found herself perversely intoxicated by the intimate details Jody had provided her with.

      Molly was laughing at him again, Ed thought grumpily. She was always making references to the Jody situation, stopping short – but only just – of singing ‘Ed and Jody, sitting in a tree …’

      Ed cursed himself as he watched Molly flick her long, newly blond curls over her shoulder. He hated that she saw him as an idiot Lothario. It shouldn’t matter, but it did. Of

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