47Molly ran to her bedroom where Frances was getting dressed.
“You’re fine, right?” she said, smiling at her friend, who looked absolutely stunning in a simple white silk sheath, lips a luscious red, jet-black hair brushing her shoulders.
Frances took a slug of Jameson’s out of the bottle. “Giddy,” she said. “I’m giddy, I’m nuts, I’m utterly and madly in love—”
“You’re done with this,” said Molly, laughing, nimbly plucking the bottle from Frances’s hands.
“Oh, it’s not the whiskey making me talk this way. I’m fine, I really am. But I feel like I’m one of those cliff divers, you know, from South America? The ones who sail out from an impossible height to dive into that blue, blue water? It’s a wonder they aren’t all killed,” she added under her breath.
“Fear and love, they’re connected
