Page 76 of The Vegas Rerun
“She never looked sorry,” Molly murmurs. “Not once. Even when I testified.”
“I know.” I climb into my car and rest my head against the steering wheel for a second. “But it’s over. She’s not coming back. She can’t hurt you again.”
She’s quiet for a moment.
“Come home,” she says. “Don’t go back to the office.
I smile.
“I’m on my way.”
The drive back home feels lighter somehow, like the weight on my chest has finally lifted. The trees lining the highway blur into streaks of green, the sky is bright and endless above me, and for once, I don’t feel like I’m racing against some unseen clock.
I pull into our driveway just after one o’clock, and the moment I step out of the car, I see her – my Molly - on the porch, waiting for me. Autumn will still be at day care, so we have a bit of time alone together.
Molly looks so pretty. She’s wearing that soft blue dress I love, the one that hugs her curves and makes the green of her eyes stand out. Her hair is pulled into a loose braid over one shoulder, and her hand rests on the curve of her stomach in a way that feels almost unconscious.
It’s not until that moment I realize how tightly I’ve been wound all day, hell all week. I cross the lawn in long strides, and she meets me halfway. Her arms go around my neck before I’veeven said a word, and I bury my face in her hair, breathing her in like she’s the only air that matters.
“She’s gone,” I whisper. “Really gone.”
Molly leans back, her eyes searching mine.
“You’re sure?”
“Twenty years,” I repeat. “And the judge made it clear. She’s not getting out early. No bail. No appeals that’ll go anywhere. She’s done, Mol.”
Her eyes well up, but she doesn’t cry. Instead, she just presses her forehead to mine and breathes.
“I feel like I can finally sleep,” she says.
“You can.”
We sit on the porch swing for a while, just the two of us. I tell her about the trial, the jury, the prosecutors. How the judge never even looked at Sarah when he passed sentence. How Sarah finally flinched when the gavel came down for the last time.
Molly listens quietly her fingers laced with mine. When I finish, she turns to face me, a little smile playing at the corners of her lips.
“I’ve been thinking,” she says.
“That’s usually dangerous.”
She smacks my shoulder playfully.
“Behave. I’m serious.”
“Okay.” I straighten up, giving her my full attention. “Hit me with it.”
Her smile grows.
“I think we should bring the wedding forward.”
I blink.
“Wait … seriously?”
“Seriously. I don’t want to wait anymore.”
“Okay, I love that plan. When are we talking? A few months? The end of summer?”
