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years is a long time, Mol,” Jenny said. Her voice was soft. “Long enough to justify you falling off the planet for a while and then resurface wearing pants with holes in them.”
    Molly winced and smoothed down the soft cotton of her yoga pants. “Be nice. They’re comfortable.”
    She knew she was going to have to tell Jenny the real reason she’d started wearing clothes with elastic waistbands in public. She needed to say it: that they were the only pants that fit around her thickening middle. Molly had put it off for too long, and now she braced herself. She needed to face this pregnancy, face her fears about what was coming next, and she needed her friend to help her do it. She was having a baby. A thrill rippled along Molly’s nerves, surprising her. It had happened, just like that. She was going to be a mother.
    Molly had heard acquaintances in recent years talk abouthow hard it was for them to want a baby and not have one. She’d listened to the women talk about how obsessive the desire was, about how the absence of a baby in their lives and the act of going through each day without getting pregnant was all they could think about. But no one had ever told Molly that getting pregnant without trying could render her just as preoccupied, just as fixated and unwilling to live her life like usual. It had made sense to keep news of the pregnancy to herself until she’d waded through enough of the muck to know how deep it was. This was a secret that was going to divulge itself whether Molly shared it or not. But a secret you never planned to know in the first place can be the easiest kind to keep.
    Jenny wandered into the living room with an open bottle of wine and two glasses. She scrolled through Molly’s iPod until she found Billie Holiday, and Molly sank down onto a small ottoman beside her. “Foolin’ Myself” started playing from the surround-sound speakers, Holiday’s slow vibrato weaving in and out of their conversation. Molly looked around at her serene, beautiful house. The living room walls were painted an earthy gray-green, and she’d tossed some bright red pillows from IKEA on the sofa for color. With last year’s holiday bonus from Shulzster & Grace, she’d been able to pick up a funky floral-patterned armchair that had been on sale at a furniture boutique in Old City, as well as a couple of small cherry-wood tables. A brick gas fireplace held court over the sitting area, grounding the space.
    â€œDo you know what I remember most when I think about New Year’s?” Molly pressed her lips together. “I remember how shiny Scott’s hair looked.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œIt must’ve been the gel, or whatever product he uses now,but that’s what I keep thinking about. How wet his hair looked, and how it had these deep ridges from where he’d combed it.”
    â€œOkay,” Jenny said. “That’s what you’re picturing? What about that big, shiny diamond he was waving in front of you?”
    â€œThat thing was huge,” Molly said.
    â€œThat thing makes my diamond look like Dan took a jimmie off an ice cream cone and stuck it on my finger.” Jenny laughed. “I can’t believe you refused it. I think that was the first time I’ve ever seen you do something so . . . unexpected.”
    Molly shook her head. “I can’t, either.”
    â€œSo, that’s it? You go along, dating him for longer than some people are married, then bail when he actually
does
want to get married?” Jenny took a sip of wine. “You’re a piece of work, Sullivan.”
    â€œI know, right? It was so weird, like my gut finally decided to speak up,” Molly said. “I saw Scott kneeling there and my brain just went, ‘Nope. No. Can’t do it.’”
    She bit the inside of her lip. “And the timing was terrible, considering—”
    Molly heard the words