“Yeah. Me too.”
“But, Molly, I am two days out of an engagement.”
Relief turns to dread. His voice is full of self-loathing. I don’t know what to say.
“And obviously we didn’t do anything wrong,” he says, “and it was enjoyable—”
I grimace at my most intense orgasm ever being described as “enjoyable.”
“But I just feel like maybe this is all too much, too soon.”
“Ah,” I say.
He gives me an aggrieved look. “I don’t mean you—I mean me. I need to stop jumping into every single little thing like a relationship is a life raft.”
“Every single little thing?”
I feel ill.
“Fuck. I didn’t mean it like that. You’re not—you mean so much to me, Molly.”
I’m touched to hear him say this. Even though I know in my bones that what comes next is going to be brutal.
“But I need to be alone right now, figure out why I keep doing this, you know? Jumping into things.”
“Yeah. That makes sense,” I force out.
“And it’s not fair to drag you into it. It’s my mess, and I don’t want to mix you up in it.”
What is sad about this is that I know he would not be saying it if he didn’t feel like I do. That there is something big between us. Too big. At least for him. At least for right now.
Which is why I can’t fight it.
“Don’t worry about it. I totally understand.”
He rubs the stubble on his chin, looking exhausted. “You do?”
I do. I don’t want to, and I hate it, but I do.
“Yeah. It makes sense to have unresolved issues and to want to work through them.”
He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. “Molls, I feel like I used you.”
I laugh softly.
“You didn’t use me. If anything, I tricked you into performing sex acts on camera for my own selfish gratification.”
“You didn’t have to trick me, Molls. And I don’t regret it.”
“Me neither.”
He nods. “Okay. Well, I’m sorry about this. I really don’t want to send you mixed messages, or hurt your feelings, or—”
I can’t stand this pitying tenderness. I have to make him stop before I burst into tears. So I slap a wry smile on my face and hold up my hands.
“Whoa,” I say. “It was just cam sex, dude. We’re not dating or anything.”
That isn’t true, of course. It wasn’t just cam sex, at least not for me. But I don’t want him to think that I’m going to sit at home, pining for him. I do have dignity. And I won’t make him feel guiltier than he already does.
But he looks taken aback. Injured, almost.
“I guess it just meant something for me,” he says. “And that’s the problem.”
I don’t say anything. I want to cry.
He gives me that tight-lipped smile again.
“Bye, Molls.”
And with that, he ends the call.
PART SIX
July 2021
CHAPTER 24 Molly
Florida in the dead of summer would not be my first choice for a wedding. I am, after all, on record as someone who avoids group celebrations in general, and I also firmly believe that the Gulf Coast is only habitable November through February.
