KING'S BAY METROPOLITAN HOTEL
"Oh my God ... Brent ..." Molly raises
a hand to her mouth. "You told her that?"
"I had to," Brent says, walking past
her. "It was just too clear to me, all of a sudden, that I couldn't pretend
to make it work -- or pretend to try, or whatever I've been doing -- any
longer."
A heavy silence sits upon them. Brent's
back is to Molly, not by accident: at this moment he doesn't think that
he can look her in the face. And as nervous as not being able to see his
expression makes her -- maybe he's mad, maybe he blames her -- Molly is
a bit relieved as well.
"I'm so sorry," she finally says.
"I am so sorry."
He sighs and lets the words sink
in for a few seconds, a length that to Molly seems to last a torturous
lifetime. "What do you have to be sorry for?" he asks, at long last.
"Everything," she says, her index
and middle fingers pressed to each temple. She closes her eyes. "If I hadn't
butted in -- if I hadn't made things so complicated -- maybe you two could
have worked it out. I'm so sorry ..."
"You don't need to apologize."
"But I do -- I'm the one to blame."
"No, you're not," Brent says with
a big exhale. "Don't try to lift the blame off of Sarah here. You know
as well as I do that she drove the nails into this coffin. And I ..." He
turns back around suddenly, startling Molly. "Don't blame yourself."
"I can't help it. If I hadn't been
so involved, none of this might have happened ..."
"How?" Brent asks. The single word
lingers in the air and it takes him another long moment to add, "How could
we have avoided this?"
Molly's tongue fumbles. "Sarah did
everything she did for a reason. Without--without me, she wouldn't have
slept with Matt, she wouldn't have lied about Victoria."
"You didn't make her do any of that."
"I know, but ..."
"But what?"
"You know ..."
Brent's mouth opens, uncertain words
ready to make the leap out into the world, when the telephone's shrill
ring sounds instead. Brent's words are swallowed again and he pauses, seeming
to debate whether or not he should answer the phone.
The answer is made as he holds up
a finger to tell Molly to hold on. He reaches the phone on the third ring.
"Brent Taylor."
Molly watches him, not at all concerned
with the phone call except that it is keeping her from whatever he was
going to say next. But her focus shifts, slowly but steadily, as she watches
him listen to the voice on the other end -- and she watches his face harden.
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