Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar, #2)(17)
Six years and three months. She’d been keeping track of how long it had been since the divorce. So had I.
“I don’t have a good explanation for last night,” I told her. “It happened. I’m not sorry for it. But I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”
“Me neither. I can’t take it. Neither can the kids. I think the best thing is to forget it ever happened.”
Forget? Not likely. At least not anytime soon. But for Molly, and for our kids, I could pretend it never happened. “Okay. If you think that’s best.”
“Well, don’t you?”
“I, uh . . . yeah. Yeah, that’s best.”
Wasn’t it? We were finished. So, yes. It was for the best.
My phone buzzed in my pocket again. The day at Alcott Landscaping was well underway. It was time for me to be a part of it. “I’d better let you get back to work.”
“Yep.” She nodded. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot happening too.”
“See you Monday night?”
“I’ll bring the kids over after I pick them up from school.”
“Then chaos starts the following week.”
She blew out a long breath. “This summer is going to be crazy.”
The kids had one activity lined up after another to keep them busy so we could both work. Kali was registered for five weeklong camps over the three-month school break. Max had four. Only two of them overlapped on the same week, which meant Molly and I would be chauffeuring kids all over the county.
Meanwhile, it was the busiest time of year for Alcott Landscaping.
“I don’t see a lot of sleep in my future.”
It was a joke, but Molly didn’t laugh. “I can keep the kids longer if you need to work. I know things are crazy in the summers.”
“No, it’s fine. I was joking.”
“Were you?”
“Yes.” No matter how much happened, my time with the kids was sacred. I’d work longer hours when they were at home with Molly.
“Okay. I know they’d hate to miss time with you.”
“I’d miss them too.” I already hated the nights we were apart. “So, see you Monday?”
“Monday.”
I stood from the desk and walked to the door, waving good-bye as I opened it.
But before I could go back into the kitchen, Molly said, “Wait, Finn. There’s something else.”
I turned back. “Yeah?”
She opened her mouth to say something but stopped. Her eyes dropped to her purse as she studied it for a moment.
“Why did you leave that . . .”
I waited but she just kept staring at her purse. “Why did I leave what?”
Before she could answer, my sister’s voice carried down the hallway. “Finn!”
“Yeah,” I called back.
“Mom wants to know what she should send home with you tonight for dinner.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need anything.”
“If you don’t choose, she will.”
“Fine. Give me one minute.” I turned back to Molly. “I know how to cook. I’m actually pretty decent.”
She pulled in her lips, holding back a smile.
“What? I am. Ask the kids. Kali said the spaghetti I made for them this weekend was my best yet.”
“I’m sure it was your best.”
“Thanks.” I turned for the door but backpedaled. “Wait. Do you know something? Do the kids not like my cooking?”
“I think they like it just fine. I think they love their aunt Poppy’s chicken potpies and their grandma’s tater tot casserole.”
“Fair enough. I’ll load up on their favorites for next week.” I tried again to leave the office, but I stopped. “You were asking me something?”
“Was I?” She shrugged. “I guess I forgot.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Thanks for coming down today. It’s nice to clear the air.”
“You’re welcome. Later.”
She nodded. “Bye.”
I walked out of the office, feeling better than when I’d come in. The air had been cleared. It was done. Molly and I would go back to the way things were.
Tonight, I’d be sleeping in my own bed with my own pillow.
Well, not exactly my own. It was Molly’s. In a weak moment, I’d taken hers with me during the divorce, not wanting to forget the smell of her fancy shampoo.
My feet paused. She kept my pillow. And I kept hers.
Six years was a long time for a pillow.
What did that mean?
Nothing. It meant nothing. It meant we were both too lazy to buy new pillows.
Didn’t it?
Four
Molly
Poppy and I each took a stool at the stainless steel table in the kitchen. After Finn had left earlier, I’d finished my office work then gone to work at the counter. The restaurant’s noon rush was over, and like we did most workdays, Poppy and I grabbed a salad from the fridge to eat together once things had died down.
Randall and Jimmy had left not long ago, heading back to The Rainbow for the rest of the day. I’d heard rumblings of a poker game with some of their other neighbors followed by a couple of hours enjoying Jimmy’s HBO subscription.