thing I adore Carly so much,” Rebecca said, “or I might be jealous.”
“No, I think if I was going to bother being jealous, it would be of that new man of hers.”
Rebecca grinned. “Yeah, Bo’s something else. I’m happy for them. Listen, you’d better get back inside. You don’t want to catch a cold.”
“I’m fine. But it’s my hair, isn’t it?”
“Oh, you’re gorgeous and you know it.”
“And for that, you’re invited for lunch tomorrow.”
“Cool. I’ll come by around noon.” She turned to go.
“Rebecca.”
She swiveled back around. “Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
Her friend waved it off. “Please. Don’t you know we city girls are always looking for a fight?” She put up her fists and gave a one-two punch to the air in front of her.
Molly laughed. Rebecca waggled her fingers on both hands, then jogged by Carly’s massive lawn and disappeared around the back of the house.
Molly’s smile lingered even on her getting-harder-every-time climb up the stairs back to her office. She was glad to be getting closer to Rebecca, who worked for a fashion magazine and had a lot of Molly’s own ambition and drive. She wondered what Rebecca would say if she knew the truth about the baby’s father. She had a strong feeling that she could trust Rebecca to keep it to herself, and that she wouldn’t judge Molly, but even still, Molly was too ashamed to say it out loud to anyone, to hear herself admit the facts.
Even her own parents back in California assumed she went to a sperm bank. It didn’t surprise them in the least. They were used to their daughter doing things the unconventional way—buying her own house, starting her own business. They were also used to their daughter’s success—being as they had such an influence on instilling it in the first place—so they had no doubts about Molly’s decisions. They stood behind her, but at a distance. Just like they always did.
The person who’d stood closest to her for so long was Adam, her unlikely best friend. He didn’t know anything about the baby, either. She hadn’t seen him since the reunion, where, preoccupied, she’d inadvertently left without saying goodbye. They’d only exchanged a few innocuous “hi, how are you? I’m still alive” e-mails since then. Molly didn’t question Adam’s lying low because she was too busy doing it herself. She’d tell him she was pregnant the next time they really talked, but she didn’t imagine she could bring herself to tell even him the truth.
Molly’s stomach growled, and when she scowled down at it, she saw the baby move. It was bad enough she ate more in a day than she did in a week pre-pregnancy, without her own body and the extra person occupying it rebelling against her.
She contemplated what was left in her kitchen, and after a minute or so, the phone rang again.
“I’ll make this quick, baby,” Molly said to her middle. “Then I’ll feed us.”
It was Friday afternoon, and she was anticipating a weekend of planning her eventual spring garden. Today she’d lined all her business ducks up in a harmoniously quacking row for next week. Whatever this was, it couldn’t set her too far back.
“M.J. Consulting,” she said, smiling again.
Less than two minutes later, her smile was gone.
Chapter Two
Adam propped his feet up on his second-floor balcony railing, and watched the rain drip onto his bare toes. He’d been planning since yesterday to pick up pad thai on the way home from work today and eat dinner al fresco. September 1 meant summer was on its way out, and he wanted to breathe in the warm air as long as it still surrounded him. Winter in upstate New York had its different snow-covered enjoyments, but it wasn’t time for that just yet.
So with these ambitious plans—and with Adam, this was as ambitious as it got—a day-long deluge wouldn’t change anything. The overhang from his upstairs neighbor’s balcony kept his head and his dinner dry. A few raindrops on his ankles were no hardship.
A tiny black furry flash tore out of the half-open sliding glass door and slid with a soft thud into the wall under Adam’s feet. Just barely righting himself, the Labrador puppy then collided into Adam’s chair leg, and jumped once to try to see what was in his owner’s dish. Then he bumped himself into the wall again, and ran back to Adam again, panting with the excitement of trying to figure out where the most fun was at that moment.
“Elmer,” Adam said. Elmer quivered, looking at Adam’s face, his hands, his dish, his feet. Adam chuckled. Elmer didn’t know his own name, but his exuberance at just hearing Adam’s voice was gratifying.
Adam hoped someone else would be just as happy to hear his voice, as soon as he got around to calling her to wish her a happy birthday. He wasn’t putting it off or anything. It wasn’t even dark yet. Technically, Molly’s birthday didn’t end until midnight.
Waiting until the absolute last minute would be kind of cheesy.
Well, they hadn’t talked to each other at all for approximately six months. She could certainly wait fifteen more minutes while he finished his pad thai. He put a forkful into his mouth. Elmer miniyelped and wagged his tail, watching Adam chew.
Besides, if Molly was so distressed at the six-month hiatus from his voice, she could just as well have picked up the phone and called him.
He shook his head at himself and took a long swallow of ginger ale. The truth was, a six-month hiatus wasn’t exactly unusual in their friendship. Even in college, living in the same dorm, they both knew—verbal acknowledgment unnecessary—that they couldn’t spend many consecutive hours in each other’s presence. Adam’s laid-back attitude got on Molly’s impatient nerves, and Molly’s constant running around gave Adam a serious case of motion sickness. Still, despite their obvious limitations, they each bestowed upon the other the title of best friend. For Adam—and he guessed for Molly, too—no one else had ever seemed to qualify for the position, and at some point soon after they met, the job was filled and no other applicants were considered.
After college, they’d gone their own separate ways, and drifted in and out of each other’s everyday lives. Some weeks, they chatted on the phone nightly. And sometimes months went by without an exchanged word or e-mail. The thing was, Adam always knew she was there, and that was enough. More than that was neediness, which sounded like a relationship, which was synonymous with trouble, as far as he was concerned.
The past six months were different, though, in that Adam had deliberately stayed away. The last time he’d seen her, she was leaving their ten-year college reunion with her long-unrequited crush, Zach Jones. Not just leaving with him, but leaving with his arm possessively around her waist, laughing up at him, her head thrown back so far her dark curls brushed the alluring curve of her behind.
Adam could have called her anytime after that. He could have said, “So. Zach Jones. You finally bagged that creep.” And she could have said, “Why do you care?” And maybe that’s why he’d never called—because he didn’t have an answer to that particular question for her. Or for himself.
She also could have said, “He turned out to
