Page 7 of The Followers

MS: I told him about it, but I don’t think he understood—he’s not even on Facebook! We were able to date and get to know each other without the pressure of the outside world, and I appreciated that. Out of respect for him, I didn’t publicize anything about our relationship until after we were engaged. Moving forward, we’ll continue to discuss how to balance social media and our marriage.

QT: Tell us about your memoir, An Invincible Summer. I thought it might be a regurgitation of your old Instagram posts but no, this was all new content. I finished it last week and I have to say: I absolutely adored every word! So inspirational.

MS: Thank you. I wanted to honestly reflect on the past five years of my life—the obstacles, but also the triumphs. My only hope is that it’ll resonate with people going through their own challenges.

QT: To finish, can you tell us what the phrase “An Invincible Summer” means to you? It’s the title of your book but also the mantra for your entire brand.

MS: It’s from an essay by Albert Camus, the Nobel Prize–winning French philosopher, and writer. He wrote: “In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.”

My first January as a single mom was also one of the worst winters to ever hit Denver. I was struggling to pay my bills and I even lost heat for a few days. I truly hit rock bottom, but one day I read this quote and it lit me on fire. This idea of an invincible summer within myself became my war cry.

The word invincible means too powerful to be defeated or overcome. It doesn’t mean bad things don’t happen; it doesn’t mean we don’t get discouraged or overwhelmed. It means that despite the difficulties, despite the messiness of life, we will not allow ourselves to be defeated.

QT: And that, friends, is why we love Molly Sullivan. Molly, thanks for joining me today. Best of luck with the launch of your new book and your new marriage.

MS: Thanks for having me, Quinn.

four

It’s easy to dismiss influencer marketing, but it’s not going anywhere. In 2022, Instagram influencers alone were paid upwards of one billion dollars for marketing. By 2025, that is expected to grow into ten times that. That’s right. A ten-billion-dollar market.

—From the article “Influencers of Influence”

Later that evening, Molly stood in the middle of her kitchen, surrounded by partially unpacked boxes. It would be beautiful once it was all in order: maple cabinets reaching to the ceiling, a farmhouse sink, and antique copper light fixtures. A striking contrast to the kitchen she’d remodeled on her own back in Denver, with its DIY backsplash and hand-painted cabinets.

She’d left her phone upstairs; as soon as the Pap smear live had ended, it started blowing up with notifications. The majority were positive, but some were negative, and a few were downright disgusting. Gross comments were part and parcel of being a woman online, but these felt more personal—maybe because the content of the live was more personal. Molly had a splitting headache and a vague sense of nausea in the pit of her stomach.

Behind her, she heard the back door open, and in an instant, the stress of the day melted away. Scott was home. Just the sight of him walking in the door, broad-shouldered and solid, filled her with pure relief. She all-out ran to greet him, launching herself into his arms. He laughed, a surprised but pleased sound, and picked her up, spinning her around the kitchen. She breathed in the smell of him—sun, river water, and rubber from the rafts.

“Hi, husband,” she whispered against his neck.

“Hi, wife,” he whispered back, then caught her mouth with a kiss.

He tasted like the tuna fish sandwich he’d had for lunch and his lips were dry from being outside all day, but Molly didn’t care. All that mattered was that she could be 100 percent herself around him—no need to weigh her words or analyze her body language or worry about how anyone else would react. His presence felt stable and grounding, the foundation she’d craved for years. This, right here, was why she had moved to this little town, packing up her daughter and everything she owned, upending her career, and confusing the heck out of her followers. She’d done it because of this man, because she’d never fit with anyone the way she fit with him.

She leaned back, arms around his neck as he set her down. He smiled at her, his blue eyes sparkling, his sandy hair dried into disheveled waves. The dogs ran into the room—Hoopi the obedient and reliable German Shepherd, and Bitsy the loveable but dim-witted yellow mutt—their tails wagging as they waited for Scott’s attention. But he was focused on her, kissing her jaw, her neck, whispering that he’d missed her, that he’d been thinking about her nonstop. Molly ran her hands across his broad shoulders and down his arms, muscled from years of navigating rafts filled with enthusiastic, inexperienced tourists.

Once upon a time, Molly had been one of those enthusiastic tourists, and he’d been her grumpy river guide. Hard to believe that that serious, unapproachable man was the same one now grinning as she gave his biceps an admiring squeeze.

“How’d everything go today?” he asked, bending down to finally pet the dogs.

“Fine,” she said, wondering if he’d watched the replay of her live video. Probably not—he was supportive of her career, but not overly invested in it. Still, she couldn’t shake the worry that Scott might get sick of her social media life. He could’ve easily found someone else—someone else who wasn’t loud, neurotic, and attention-seeking, as one commenter on today’s video had said. Someone who didn’t have thunder thighs and a cellulite problem.

Shaking that off, she focused on him. “Chloe and I went to the park after my live, and now she’s playing in her room.”

“And Ella?”

That was another reason she’d moved here—for Ella, Scott’s daughter. So Ella and Chloe could each have a sister and a real, honest-to-goodness family. “She spent most of the day at Lily’s house, two doors down.”

“She’s already making friends. That’s good.” He sounded surprised, though he shouldn’t have been. The only reason Ella hadn’t had many friends until now was because Scott had kept her so isolated, living in the mountains outside Durango for the past four years. A function of Scott’s introverted personality, but probably not the best for his daughter’s social development. Buying a house in the middle of a nice, family-oriented neighborhood would be good for all of them, Molly thought, and Scott had agreed when she suggested it.

“That’s the plan, right?” Molly kissed him again. “I haven’t started dinner yet, but we have chicken breasts we can grill and salad stuff in the fridge.”

“Sounds perfect. I’m going to shower. I’ll be back in a minute to help you.”

Scott swatted her butt as he left to rinse the river off him. He wasn’t the kind of boss to sit in the office and let his employees guide the rafting trips. He needed to know what happened every day on the river. If the water level rose or dropped, if rocks shifted or a tree fell, it could affect the path the guides took through the rapids. His devotion to the business and his employees had always been something Molly admired.

While Scott showered, Molly grabbed her phone from upstairs, checked to make sure the comments on her live hadn’t gotten out of hand, and then got dinner ready. Her phone dinged with a text message and she glanced at it—Ayla, a friend in Denver, the one battling cervical cancer, had sent a picture.

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