She takes an awfully long time to reply, sniffling and swallowing and working her mouth as she mulls over her words. “Because I thought when you went distant, it was proof you didn’t care. I thought actions spoke louder than words, so I didn’t want to hear what you had to say. It wasn’t until Danni said she thinks you shut down when stuff goes really wrong that I even realized there could be another explanation. You were so good to me when my dad died, I thought it was evidence that you do know what to say, and you just didn’t care anymore. I didn’t click that the difference between Dad and Oscar is you were grieving Oscar as well. Maybe I should’ve figured it out myself. I definitely should’ve heard you out, I know. But I’ve just been so…”

“Sad,” I finish. “You lash out, and I lash in, I suppose.”

“I’ve been awful to you,” she says, and I get the sense that she’s realizing the truth of her words as she says them. “I’m so sorry. I was just … everything was so much, and I was so angry at everybody.”

Though her words don’t erase the hurt of the past several months—and though I’m sure she feels much the same about mine—I don’t have it in me to conjure up any bitterness. And I don’t believe it’s due to a lack of feeling, either. Mostly, I think, I’ve missed her far too much to have any interest in holding a grudge, and it feels so wonderful to be by her side and talking frankly that any less pleasant emotions simply aren’t loud enough to make themselves heard.

“I don’t suppose we’ll be able to forget this all happened,” I say.

“No.”

“So, what now?”

Molly finally glances at me. “I don’t want to be angry anymore,” she says.

It is, I suppose, as positive a step as I could hope for. “Do you think we could start speaking again?” I ask her.

“I’d like to.”

Neither of us has ever been any good at emotional displays of affection, even prior to the last six months. So we don’t celebrate our tentative reconciliation with an embrace. But when Molly stands and offers to return to the party with me—not ahead of me, or behind me, or sulking by my side, but with me—it feels like a warm blanket all the same.

And yet.

“I’m not ready to go out just yet,” I say. “I may stay in here for another minute.”

And so, she gives me a sad smile and leaves me alone with my thoughts.