Molly
The water feels warm and melts my worries.
I don’t want to get out.
I could stay in here all day, hiding from the world.
I don’t even care anymore; this is the freest feeling surging through my veins I’ve ever felt, and I not only want to embrace it, but relish in it and savor each moment that I remain uncommitted to anything or anyone. I actually did put Owen out of my mind once I got in the bath.
You know that expression ‘no fucks to give?’ Well, that’s me. Look it up in a dictionary and you’ll see my face and submerged body in this tub right now.
I mean damn, even the taste in the air is different. Is that really possible? I think so, because I’m living it right now.
Don’t call me crazy or spastic. It’s called perspective, and I’m finally seeing it clearly for once in my fucking life.
I finally climb out of the tub and pat my skin dry. My chest feels lighter, and the weight of the world is fading fast from my memory.
No longer do I feel trapped or as if I’m collapsing on the brink of losing control. I’m not dramatic, I’m just pissed.
Well, maybe I’m not even angry anymore. The new me doesn’t care enough. No fucks to give, remember?
I lather lotion on my still-damp skin, moistening it until I’m radiantly glowing as I stare at my reflection in the mirror.
I may appear the same on the outside, but on the inside, big changes are festering and taking place in my mind and spirit.
I drape a white terry-cloth robe around my body and pull it closed tight around me, wrapping it nice and snug.
I walk to my living room to fetch the glass of water that I suddenly remember I left sitting on the coffee table. It’s refreshing as I gulp it down, good to every last cool and savory drop.
I jump nearly a foot in the air as the doorbell rings inside of my apartment, scaring the living fucking daylights out of me.
Who the fuck is at my doorstep at this hour?
I clutch my robe tighter and head apprehensively to the front door.
I stare through the peep hole first, wanting to gauge who’s on the other side.
It’s too dark down the hallway for some reason. Should I open the door to reveal the visitor? The old me would probably say no, but the new me is too full of curiosity not to wonder.
I inhale sharply and whisk the door open in one fell swoop.
I’m shocked to see who’s on the other side.
“Hi, Molly, I hope it’s not too late to see you.”
“Owen?” I stand there, just staring at him and trying to comprehend what he’s doing here.
I notice his hand behind his back as he slowly pulls it forward to reveal an enormous amount of long-stemmed white roses in a perfect bouquet.
“These are for you,” he states softly, and pushes them towards me.
I take them, sniffing their flowery aroma. I can’t help it, their color symbolizes purity, and I feel a tug in my heart even though I should probably resist. No, I know I should resist.
“Thanks,” I say. “What is this for?” I have to grip the flowers with two hands because they’re so heavy.
Undoubtedly, I’m confused as ever.
“These roses are the beginning of the apology I want to give you,” Owen recites.
He’s wearing all black—black jeans, a black sweater and a black coat.
He clears his throat to begin what I assume will be a speech about his wrongdoings.
“Molly, I present these roses to you as a way to sincerely apologize,” he says.
So I’m right, I can sense these things. The guy in the dog house wants to come back inside.
“Molly, there are one hundred white roses here, and each one represents how truly sorry I am for hurting you.”
I don’t know why, but all I can do is stare blankly at him. I don’t have a reaction…not yet anyway.
“Can I come inside?” He gestures towards my living room.
I still can’t bring myself to speak, so I continue to stare a hole in the wall across from him.
“Please, Molly…”
I finally regain some control over my muscular activity. I simply nod, but I still don’t say anything to him.
He walks past me and takes the roses, placing them on my kitchen table.
“These will look good here,” he offers.
I stand there awkwardly, waiting for him to say something else.
“Molly,” he holds his hands up, “I am so, so sorry. Yes, it’s true that my plan began with trying to win you over so you would lift my suspension from the Expose. I really wanted to fuck Crystal in the beginning.”
I flinch at his words.
He pauses here, waiting to see if I will counter, argue or fly into his arms. I do none of these things; I simply look at the ground and remain silent, still.
Owen has no choice but to continue on with his apology.
“What was not part of the plan,” he says, “is the way I now feel about you. I can’t deny it any longer, Molly. I think I’m in love with you.”
Whoa, hold the train. No way. Owen fucking Wolfe just said the L word?
His words are powerful, and I can hear the vulnerability in his voice, but I’m not quite ready to open up to him yet. I’m not sure what to think, if I can trust him. I need a little more.
Owen approaches me and takes my hands in his, cradling them gently. I don’t protest or try to pull away.
“Molly,” he whispers softly, his voice like a prayer, “I love you. You’re the only thing I can think about. I can’t fucking sleep, I can’t fucking eat. Without you, I’m fucking nothing.”
I ponder his confession and digest it, allowing it to sink into every fiber of my being.
“Do you think you can grant me a second chance to fix everything I’ve fucked up?” Owen asks softly.
I breathe in the intoxicating and sexy scent of his masculine cologne. He’s only standing close to me, but I can feel his amazing strength and safety, as if I’m already wrapped in his arms.
I finally know how to answer him. I decide to go with the truth.
“I’m scared.” My voice cracks and my eyes pool with tears.
“What are you scared of?” He leans in and rubs my cheek with his thumb.
“I’m not sure I’m a risk-taker after all,” I admit, and look at the floor.
“You’re a fucking strong and incredible woman,” he proclaims.
I finally muster the courage to make eye contact with him. “You don’t even know how many times I’ve been heartbroken,” I tell him.
“I’m sorry that I’m the reason for the latest one,” he says, his eyes full of genuine regret.
I shake my head as the realization hits me. “I used work as a Band-Aid, a way to distract myself from being lonely and hurt. Now what do I have to show for it?” I shrug. “Not a damn thing.”
“You have me.” Owen gently hugs me close to his body. I want so badly to believe him, but the pain of all the hurt in my past makes me feel like I can’t let him in.
Surrendering to Owen would mean finally being free of the shackles that bind me, but I need for him to prove his love first.