Molly

As Jamie and Gus resume their walk, Chloe follows me into my shop. I flip on the overhead lights and turn up the heat to ward off the overnight chill.

“What in the fresh hell was that all about?” she says, shrugging out of her coat and hanging it on a wall hook behind the sales counter.

I laugh as I turn on the cash register. I can always count on Chloe to make me smile, no matter how stressed I am. “What fresh hell are you referring to, specifically? Jamie or Todd?”

She hops up on the sales counter and swings her legs. “Both! Dish, girlfriend! I was afraid those two were going to start throwing down any second.”

“I’ve told you, Todd is very territorial.”

“I know that. But what about Jamie? He got right in Todd’s face. What’s with that? And why was he walking you to work in the first place? And was that a service dog with him?”

I sigh. “Okay. One, Jamie’s just watching out for me. I guess he doesn’t like Todd – but then, who does? Two, I saw Jamie this morning as I was leaving the building and he asked if he could walk me to my shop. And three, yes, Gus is his service dog.”

“Why does he need a service dog?”

“Jamie’s blind.”

Chloe’s eyes widen. “He’s blind? Like, partially blind or totally blind?”

“Totally blind.”

“You’re shitting me! He didn’t seem blind yesterday when we saw him in the café with that hot blonde.”

“I think he hides it well.”

“Did you find out what kind of friend she is? Are we talking girlfriend? Friend with benefits? Or, just one of his harem? Because, let’s face it, this guy is hot. I’m sure he has lots of women panting after him.”

“I saw them later in the afternoon, standing outside our apartment building. A guy in a Jaguar came to pick her up, and he kissed the daylights out of her, so I think she’s with him, and not with Jamie. I haven’t had the nerve to ask him if he has a girlfriend.”

Chloe hops down from the counter. “I can’t stay. I just wanted to get the dish on Mr. Hottie. You should find out if he has a girlfriend. Who knows, maybe he’s available.”

I shake my head. “It wouldn’t matter if he is. I can’t get involved with anyone.”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Why? Because of Todd the Douchebag?”

“Partly. Todd’s a menace to anyone who’s associated with me… including you. You need to be careful around him, Chloe. And Jamie – his blindness puts him at a significant disadvantage. But it’s more than that.”

She gives me a knowing look. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a great catch, Molly. Any guy would be lucky to be with you, even with your unfortunate deformities.”

I shake my head, fighting a grin at Chloe’s euphemism for my lack of breasts. Now it’s my turn to give Chloe a look. “In case you haven’t noticed, men are obsessed with breasts, and I no longer have any. That makes me ‘incomplete as a woman’ – at least that’s what Todd said to justify his infidelity. I’m not going to enter into a relationship that’s doomed from the start.”

Chloe shakes her head as she slips on her coat and heads for the door. “You don’t know it’s doomed from the start. I think you’re wrong. You’re talented and smart. You’re kind and caring. Who cares if you don’t have boobs?” She shrugs, giving me a parting grin as she reaches for the door handle. “I’d do you in a heartbeat, if I swung that way.”

* * *

That evening, as I sit on my sofa eating a baby kale and spinach salad and watching CNN, I hear heavy footsteps and male voices coming up the stairs. Lots of them, as in a small stampede. Curious, I get up and peer through the peep hole in my door just in time to see three guys come up the stairs and turn toward Jamie’s apartment. One of them I recognize as the guy who was driving the Jaguar yesterday – the one who kissed the blonde. One of them looks just like the lead singer of the pop band Locke, but that can’t be right. What in the world would he be doing in my apartment building? The third one, an older guy with short salt-and-pepper hair and a chiseled upper torso, is carrying a case of beer.

I can no longer see them, but I hear when they knock on Jamie’s door. It looks like Jamie’s having a party. A few minutes later, there are more boots coming up the stairs and heading to Jamie’s door.

I’m happy for him. I’m glad he’s got friends.

I, on the other hand, am alone for the evening. After watching a chick flick and eating popcorn and M&Ms, I read a little bit, then think about getting ready for bed. As I’m carrying my empty dishes to the kitchen, I hear voices out in the hallway. Female voices this time. I can’t resist peeking out the peep hole just as the blonde from yesterday comes up the stairs, followed by a petite blonde girl and a redhead with a manbun.

The blonde looks upset. As she glances toward Jamie’s apartment, her expression lights up when she sees someone. I can’t see who she’s looking at, but I imagine it’s Jamie.

As I turn away from my door, I tell myself it’s for the best. I don’t need to waste time mooning over someone I can’t have.

* * *

The walls in this building aren’t very thick, and as I’m lying in bed in the dark, I can hear the faint rumble of male laughter coming from Jamie’s apartment. It’s not loud enough to be annoying – it’s more like white noise, rising and falling in quiet waves, and lulling me to sleep. I’m glad he’s got a lot of friends.

I feel a sharp twinge in my chest as a frayed neuron misfires and slip my hand beneath my oversized nightshirt to rub the spot. Occasionally those severed nerves act up, like now, zapping me unexpectedly with a painful tingle. This time it’s beneath the scar that crosses the left side of my chest, where my left breast once was. That was the breast where my cancer was found. You have an aggressive form of cancer, my doctor had said, stage zero. “You’re very lucky, Molly.”

It was detected in a routine mammogram. After a quick surgical procedure, the cancer was gone, along with approximately ninety-seven percent of my breast tissue. They can’t ever get it all. There’s always a risk of recurrence. But I made a choice. I could have had a lumpectomy, but I chose to remove my breasts. Both of them. Still, that’s not a guarantee.

My chest is still mostly numb, making it feel weird to the touch, but I can tell the nerves are slowly growing back. I have a little more sensation these days than I did a year ago, when I had the surgery.

Once I received the cancer diagnosis, my life changed so dramatically, seemingly overnight. A biopsy, then scheduling the surgery. It all happened so quickly.

After reviewing my options, I opted for a double mastectomy. I’d watched my maternal grandmother deal with breast cancer for the last two decades of her life, first in one breast, then in the other. I didn’t want to go through that.

At first Todd had been supportive. The breakdown occurred after the surgery, when he got a good look at my newly disfigured chest. In hindsight, it was a failure of communication on both of our parts. He’d assumed I’d have reconstructive surgery and come out of the treatment with a pair of perfect, plump breasts. Instead, I’d opted to go au naturale, which meant having no breasts at all. Just two irregular, shiny scars meandering across my now flat chest, constant reminders of what I’d lost.

I guess it’s not fair to blame him for his reaction. He hadn’t signed on for this when we got married. But still, his disappointment was no justification for violating our marriage vows and screwing his assistant on our living room sofa. If he’d wanted out of our marriage, he should have told me himself. He should have done it the right way, instead of being a coward and sneaking around behind my back, irrevocably destroying my trust in him.

I turn onto my side and wrap my arms around the spare pillow, savoring the comfort it provides. The last thing I remember is hearing a muted cheer next door. At least someone is having a good time tonight.

* * *

Sunday afternoon, I’m in the back of my shop applying glazes to a set of newly finished paintings when my phone chimes with an incoming text. I glance at the screen to see Chloe’s brief message: Open the damn door. I have pizza.

I put my brushes down and go unlock the front door. Chloe follows me through the beaded curtain. “I come bearing lunch… fresh out of the oven, thin crust with veggies and light cheese, just how you like it.”

She sets the pizza box down on one of the worktables and heads for my little kitchenette to collect paper plates and napkins.

“That sounds really good,” I tell her, dropping my brushes into a jar of cleaning solution. “I skipped breakfast this morning, and I’m starved.”

While I’m washing up and grabbing water bottles for the both of us, she loads two slices of pizza onto a paper plate and hops up on the table.

“Are you working today?” I ask her, as I help myself to a slice of pizza.

“I filled in for Mitch for half a day today, but I’m off now. I thought I’d come by to visit for a while.”

I take a bite of pizza and moan in appreciation. “God, thank you, this is just what I needed.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, how was your hot date last night?” I remember Chloe telling me she was going out with a guy she met on an Internet dating site.

She rolls her eyes. “It was a total disaster. The guy couldn’t get off his phone for more than five minutes at a time – when he should have been looking at all this.” Chloe gestures to her own rocking body. “I got tired of sitting there staring at the top of his head, holding one-sided conversations. What’s wrong with people these days? It’s too bad, too, because he was hot. Still, he’s an idiot.”

I smile. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out. Do you think you’ll see him again?”

She shakes her head as she opens a chilled bottle of water. “Nope. Not interested. One strike, he’s out. I don’t waste time on losers.”

I laugh. Chloe’s had one disastrous blind date after another lately. As beautiful as she is, she has no trouble getting dates. It’s just that most of them turn out to be duds.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” she says. “At least I’m going out. When was the last time you went out with anyone besides that loser ex-husband of yours?”

I scrunch up my nose, thinking back. Way back. “Um, eleven years ago?”

“Ha! Then don’t make fun of my lame dates. At least I’m getting out there.”

The doorbell chimes, and as I start to remove my paint-splattered smock, Chloe hops off the table. “Relax and eat your pizza. I’ll handle it.”

A moment later, she pops her head back through the beaded curtain with a mischievous grin on her face. “Someone’s here to see you,” she says, in a sing-songy voice, giving me a pointed look.

Well, I know it’s not Todd, because if it were, Chloe would be glaring daggers, not grinning at me like an idiot. When I head to the front of the store to see for myself who’s here, I’m pleasantly surprised to find Jamie and Gus standing in my shop. “Jamie. This is a nice surprise.”

“That’s my cue,” Chloe says, winking at me. “Time for me to get going.” She grabs her coat from the backroom and heads for the door. “You kids have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

I watch as Chloe darts out the door and down the sidewalk. “Just ignore her,” I say to Jamie.

He grins at me, and my pulse starts racing as I’m struck anew by how handsome he is. His dark aviator glasses make him look like a bad-ass hottie. I wish my body would stop reacting this way every time he shows up. It’s embarrassing.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he says.

“No, not at all. Chloe and I were just grabbing a bite to eat. I’m glad you stopped by. I noticed you had some friends over last night. A party?”

“My brothers and a couple friends came over for a poker game. I hope we weren’t too loud.”

“Oh, no, you weren’t.” I reach down to pet Gus. “I used to play poker with some dormmates in college. I wasn’t half bad. I won my share of big pots. Wait – you play cards?”

“Sure.” He grins, as if he’s amused by my question. “We play with Braille cards.”

“Oh, right.”

“Hey, the reason I stopped by was because I wanted to invite you over for dinner tonight. If you’re free. I make a pretty decent lasagna. Fresh garlic bread, a little red wine. What do you say?”

For a moment, I allow myself to marvel that this handsome, amazing man is offering to cook me dinner. Todd never once cooked a meal for me. I’m so tempted to say yes. There’s nothing I’d like better than to spend some quality alone time with him, get to know him better, and find out if he’s really all he appears to be.

I so desperately want to say yes, but that way lies madness. I’d be putting Jamie at great risk where Todd is concerned, and I just can’t do that to him. Besides, I’m still not sure about the nature of his relationship with the pretty blonde. If they are a couple, or even just dating, I don’t need to get my hopes up in vain. And, if I’m going to be completely honest with myself, I’d risk getting my heart crushed when he discovers I’m missing a couple of key body parts. Body parts that men tend to be particularly fond of.

My stomach sinks with the realization that I can’t possibly say yes. “Thanks for the offer – I really mean that – but I’m afraid I can’t.”

His expression falls just the slightest bit, his brow furrowing with what looks like frustration, and he’s quiet for a moment. I feel like a complete ass for turning him down.

“How about another night?” he says. “I’d love to have you over. And I promise you, I’m a pretty decent cook.”

“Jamie, it’s not that. I’m really busy this time of year, with the holidays coming up.” My excuse sounds lame even to my own ears.

Despite his dark glasses, I can see he’s frowning. “Of course. No problem.”

He’s clearly disappointed, and I feel like crap. I swallow around a painful lump in my throat, wishing things could be different. Wishing Todd wasn’t in the picture, wishing I could say yes, and that Jamie would cook me dinner. I would love that.