Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar, #2)(23)

“Yep. It’s hard to believe my Kali is going to be a middle schooler.”

“It feels like yesterday that she came in here and played in the corner after preschool.”

“The years are going by quicker and quicker.” Not just the years. The days and weeks too. It felt like only hours ago I’d started on Molly’s yard project, but it had already been a week.

“The summers are racing by,” Bridget said. “We can’t keep up.”

I pushed my calendar over to her so she could scope out the lineup. “No, we can’t.”

I’d had to turn away three customers over the past week because we didn’t have the capacity to bid their projects. Our mowing crew was maxed out and the waiting list was twenty-deep. Adding more staff wasn’t possible until maybe next season—there simply wasn’t enough trained labor in town.

The season was just starting and I was already behind on office work. Normally, I’d work late on the nights when Molly had the kids and catch up. But this week, I’d been leaving the office at five on the nose to go to her place and work on the yard. We’d have dinner and hang out with the kids. Then I’d spend the night, getting up early to leave before dawn.

I was sneaking around with my wife.

Ex-wife.

But damn the sex was good. Maybe better than it had ever been. The two of us were having a full-on affair in the house we’d once bought together. And I had no plans to stop, even if it was fucking stupid.

I had more energy now than I’d had in years. I caught myself smiling more throughout the day whenever I thought of her lips on my skin or my hands in her hair. Damn, but I loved her hair. When was the last time I’d gotten so caught up in a woman?

Fifteen years ago.

None of the girlfriends I’d had since Molly had ever given me such a thrill. I’d dated Brenna for a year, and for the last half of it, I’d spent more time avoiding dates than rushing toward them.

The three nights this past week when the kids had been at my place, I’d gone to bed grumpy, wishing it were Molly at my side, not my unopened laptop.

If there had been a way to sneak her over, I would have. Except my kids weren’t stupid and they’d know something was up. I might have the excuse of landscaping to take me to Molly’s. But she hadn’t set foot in my home. Not once. Whenever she dropped off the kids, she said good-bye on the sidewalk, staying back at least ten feet from the front door.

Why was that? I’d invited her in on more than one occasion, but in six years, she hadn’t crossed the threshold. Not even when Max had invited her in to see his room. She’d made an excuse about being late and promised to see it another time—which had never happened.

These were all things we should have talked about instead of stripping one another naked like we had all weekend and last night too.

Sex was easier than talking. It always had been.

Molly and I had spent years communicating physically, learning and perfecting the way we silently came together. As soon as words were involved, things got dicey.

We’d agreed that first night was a mistake. I’d venture a guess she felt the same about the other three. But to hell with it, I was excited to go over there after work tonight.

The front yard was coming along, and it was a blast to have the kids help me out. Molly too. She’d joined us outside last night, wearing her own leather gloves and working for an hour before dinner.

For the first time, the four of us had worked on a project together. Like a family.

Max thought dirt was fascinating. Kali was going to have her own green thumb. And Molly had an eye for design I hadn’t respected enough. The feeling of being next to them, hearing their ideas, had filled me with so much pride, I was tempted to stretch this project out for months because I didn’t want it to end.

Except I couldn’t afford to stretch the project out. I couldn’t afford to spend all those nights at Molly’s. I had to work. The only other option was to make some changes around Alcott.

Bridget was staring with wide eyes at my calendar. I had a separate schedule I used to track the mowing crews, the same system Molly had designed years ago. But this calendar was full of the major projects, the ones where either Bridget or I was assigned to oversee design and execution.

She had two crews who reported to her, each led by a foreman who was on-site and working each day. I had three reporting to me.

We used a color-coded system in the calendar to assign jobs. Her projects were yellow, mine blue.

The month of June was so full, if you squinted at the page, it all swirled green. Maybe it was time to admit we needed some help.

“It’s only been the two of us designing and managing crews for a long time,” I told her.

“It has.” Her spine straightened. “Wait. Are you thinking of hiring someone else?”

“Maybe.” I paused. “Actually, yes. I want to keep growing, but I need more staff.”

Bridget’s jaw tensed. “I can probably take on three more projects a month.”

“I appreciate that, but I don’t want you to get burned out.”

“I’d rather work a little harder than throw someone in the middle of this who will just get in the way. Remember how unorganized things were when Jason worked here? Or that summer you hired She Who Will Not Be Named?”

“Athena.”