Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar, #2)(28)

The restaurant was empty except for two people in opposite corners who had headphones on and were working on laptops. The only one working was me. Poppy was taking a day off to get the kids enrolled in summer swimming lessons and then spend a special day with them. Rayna had opened for us but had left shortly after I’d arrived. So, I was here alone until three, when Dora was coming in for the evening shift.

If I was going to confess, now was the time.

“This stays between us,” I told Randall.

“That goes without saying.”

“I’m sleeping with Finn.” I set those words loose and a huge weight came off my shoulders. It was freeing, even though Randall wasn’t pleased. He couldn’t quite repress the tic in his jaw. “I know you don’t like him much.”

“The man’s a fool for letting you go.”

My heart. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“It’s the truth. He’s a fool. And so are you.”

Okay. That wasn’t quite as nice. “There’s the Randall I know and love. I was worried you were going soft on me.”

He didn’t laugh at my joke. “What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know that I am,” I admitted. “It just sort of happened and we haven’t talked about it. He’s . . . Finn. He’s the father of my children. I was in love with him for years. Those feelings didn’t simply shut off the day we signed our divorce papers. There’s history there.”

Randall dug his spoon into his berry crisp, taking a large bite. “Did I ever tell you I was divorced?”

“Uh, no.”

Randall didn’t talk much about his life, not even after sitting on that stool for nearly six years. I knew that as a younger man he’d helped build this building. He was from Bozeman and had lived here his entire life, just like me.

He had chosen to sell his home years ago and move into The Rainbow because it was easier. He claimed it was for the food and on-site cleaning crew. I think he’d been lonely—something he’d never admit.

But I’d never known he’d been married.

“I was married for twenty-one years. My wife and I never had children, so it was just the two of us. Twenty-one years, and then one day we realized we were miserable together. But I never stopped loving her.”

“Did she love you?”

“She did. I’d say she doesn’t anymore. I talk to her a couple of times a month. She moved to Arizona because she hates the snow.”

“What’s her name?”

“Mary James.”

James. She’d kept his last name. All I wanted to do was give this wonderful man a hug, but I kept my seat. I listened because there was a reason he was opening up.

“The thing about divorce is, there isn’t always one mistake. One nuclear bomb dropped on a couple that destroys their marriage. Sometimes, it creeps up on you slowly. And one day, realization hits and all you know is that you don’t want to be married anymore. Maybe a nuclear bomb would have been better than slowly burning to death. Maybe that wouldn’t make you feel like such a failure. It kills you to give up, but you know it’s the right decision. Because if you keep going, you’ll hate each other. That’s why Mary and I stopped. Because I didn’t want to hate her. I didn’t want her to hate me.”

The air left my lungs. Randall sat here nearly every day and I hadn’t known how close his story was to my own. Someone who really understood.

“I don’t know what I’m doing with Finn,” I whispered.

“If I had to guess, I’d say you two have more love than me and Mary ever did. You might even have some passion left in you. That’s all good. But you got divorced for a reason. Probably more than one. Have those reasons gone away?”

“No.” Those reasons were still there, floating under the surface. “He’s been sending me letters.” Well, someone was sending me his letters.

“What kind of letters?”

“There’s only been two, but they’re both from ages ago. The first one he wrote after our first date. The second was written the night before he proposed.”

“And they’re bringing up feelings,” he guessed.

I nodded. “I was happy. We were happy.”

“And you’re not now.”

“No, I’m happy. But it’s not the same. It doesn’t run as deep.”

Randall took another bite, chewing as slowly as humanly possible. Then he did it again. I was sure there was a point to his silence, and he’d deliver it eventually, so I sat and waited.

Finally, he spoke. “That boy was terrible to you when I first started coming here.”

“I know. But he was hurt.”

“You always defend him,” he grumbled. “The man was an asshole and you didn’t deserve that.”

No, I did deserve it. But I wasn’t going to expand on the dirty details for Randall. Finn had been acting out of pain. The cold shoulders, the blank stares. I’d earned every single one.

“He hasn’t acted like that in a long time,” I said.

“He’s still a fool.”

“Thank you.” I bumped his shoulder with mine. “I’m sorry about your wife.”

He shrugged. “It’s been a long time. And don’t go gossiping about this. I don’t need everyone putting their noses into my business. It’s ancient history.”