-Molly's POV-
I stared at the clock, listening to it tick as I waited with my phone in my hand. It had been a week since Scott left, and each day seemed to have dragged on more than the last.
Breakfast that morning had been a short, tense affair. Thankfully, my mother had dominated the conversation, babbling on about a new boutique she had found and all its one-of-a-kind wares.
I'd kept my eyes on the table and picked at my food while pretending to listen. Scott had been pressing Paul for more information on the "business crisis" that required them both to be there. But Paul had been snippy and very closed-lipped. Seconds before I was sure it would come to an all-out screaming match, Paul had jerked away from the table and murmured something about packing. My mother had frowned and quickly excused herself to find out what was wrong.
