Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar, #2)(16)

Why would Poppy put that up on her wall? She hadn’t even liked Brenna that much. Maybe it was her way of telling me that she’d been trying to get to know my girlfriend.

It didn’t matter now. I yanked on the bottom of the picture, tearing it free from its pin, then I crumpled it up in one hand and tossed it in the trash can next to the desk. When I looked at Molly, her brown eyes were waiting.

“I’m sorry about your breakup,” she said gently.

“It’s fine.”

“Is that why you stayed for dinner last night? Because you were upset?”

“What? No. Things with Brenna haven’t been going well for a while. Like I told you, it was time.”

“You seem upset.”

I ran my hand over my jaw. “I’m not upset.”

“Well you just killed that picture. It seems like you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset.”

“It’s okay if you are.”

Fuck. Would this woman ever listen to me? “I’m not upset!”

My voice bounced off the walls and I immediately regretted raising my voice.

Molly scowled, then turned back to her laptop. “Fine. I’m busy. I know you probably are too. Since there isn’t anything else to discuss, you should probably get back to work.”

“Kicking me out again?”

She pursed her lips, positioning her hands over the keyboard. “I’ll have the kids call you before bedtime. Thanks again for mowing my lawn last night.”

That fucking lawn. What a disaster it had turned out to be. I blamed it for getting us into this position.

“Molly.” I sighed. “I’m sorry. I just . . . I’m not upset about Brenna. Really. I’m sorry I yelled.”

“I don’t want to fight, Finn.”

“Neither do I.” We’d done enough of that while we’d been married. “I’m off this morning. Last night was, well, I don’t know.”

“It was a mistake.”

“Was it?”

Her eyes snapped to mine. “What do you mean?”

“Was it a mistake?” I’d been wrestling with that question for hours.

“We’re divorced. Divorced people shouldn’t be having sex with one another. It’s too complicated.”

“It didn’t feel complicated.”

She blinked at me, her mouth falling open. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know. I just know that last night was the best I’ve slept in years. And not just because I missed my pillow.”

The corner of her mouth turned up. “I couldn’t get rid of that pillow. I thought about it, but I just couldn’t.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Maybe you should take it with you. That way you’ll have it at home.”

Home.

The image that popped into my head at that word was her house, not mine. The place I’d lived for the past five and a half years had never felt like home. Taking my pillow wasn’t going to change that feeling.

Has another man slept on my pillow? That thought hit me hard and fast, sinking like a rock in my stomach. The kids hadn’t mentioned Molly dating anyone since our divorce. Poppy certainly hadn’t told me. But maybe Molly was hiding it. Maybe she’d had someone else in her life and I’d never even known.

Was it Gavin?

Had he mowed her lawn, then spent the night? I wouldn’t let myself think of Molly with another man, her neighbor included. The other man, the only other one I knew about, was hard enough to live with. I’d spent years trying to block out visuals of another man’s lips on her neck, his fingers in her hair.

If another guy had slept on that pillow, I sure as fuck didn’t want it back.

“Keep the pillow.”

“Okay.” She dropped her gaze to her lap and picked at a fingernail. This was what Molly did when she was thinking her words through, so I braced. Normally this was when she said things I didn’t want to hear. “I don’t know what happened last night.”

“You don’t remember?” That was a blow to the ego. We’d both had quite a few glasses of wine, but she hadn’t been blackout drunk, and I thought I’d done a pretty good job of making her toes curl.

“No. I remember what happened. I just don’t know why it happened.”

“I don’t either.” I walked to the desk and sat on the edge. “Were you lonely?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Were you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Then I guess we were two lonely people having sex to feel a connection to another person.” I hated the sound of that. It was not the right explanation.

Molly grimaced. “That sounds pathetic.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“Gah.” Molly’s fingers dove into her hair, pulling at the roots. It was her telltale sign a rant was coming. “What are we doing? We were finally figuring things out. Getting into a routine with the kids. Being around one another without fighting. Things have been so much easier lately. You even mowed my lawn. It’s almost like we’ve been . . .”

“Friends.”

Molly dropped her hands from her hair, which then fell over her chest as her shoulders collapsed forward. “Did we just undo six years and three months of hard work?”