Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar, #2)(31)

“I think you should go.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“You can’t stay.”

“Why?”

I gaped at him. “Because we’re divorced.”

“Me staying doesn’t change that fact.”

“Then because it’s foolish.” Ever since Randall had said that word, it had been stuck in my head.

“Probably.” Finn chuckled and stood from the couch. Then he held out his hand.

I shied away, sinking deeper into the couch.

He laughed again, then bent and swiped my hand off my lap so fast, I didn’t even have time to blink before he’d hauled me off the couch.

“Finn.” I tugged my hand, trying to get free, but he held it tight as he pulled me down the hall and to my bedroom.

When we were both inside, he let me go and closed the door.

I went to the end of the bed and sat. “This is not why I invited you to stay for dinner.”

“I know that.” He sat by my side. “And I’ll go in a few minutes. But we need to talk about the letters.”

“I don’t want to talk about the letters.”

“Why not?”

“Because . . . because you didn’t send them.”

His frame slumped, his broad shoulder leaning into mine. “I’m sorry, Molly.”

“Why didn’t you send them?” Above all else, I wanted to know why he’d chosen to hide those beautiful letters instead of giving them to me somewhere along the way.

“A lot of reasons. I wrote them to you, but they were more for myself, if that makes sense. A way for me to get my thoughts together.”

That made sense, especially given the actual letters. If he’d sent me that first one after our first date, I would have been creeped out. After one date, it was strange to know you wanted to marry someone. Wasn’t it? Though it didn’t feel strange. It felt . . . like us.

His explanation made sense for the proposal letter too. He hadn’t said those words to me the night he’d proposed, but I could see why he’d want to have his thoughts down. Why he’d want to use the letter as a dry run before asking someone to become your wife.

“Are there more?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“How many?”

He hesitated. “A few. Maybe six or seven. I don’t remember.”

If the person who’d sent the first two planned to continue, then I guess I’d find out eventually. “Do you know who could be sending them?”

“I have my suspicions,” he grumbled.

“Me too.”

We sat quietly for a few moments, his arm pressed against me. The heat from his skin melded with my own, warming me to the core. That heat was the reason we should have stayed on the couch.

“You’d better go,” I whispered.

He nodded but didn’t make a move to stand.

“Finn.”

He looked down at me. “I don’t want to go.”

“You said you’d go in a few minutes.”

“I lied.”

I hated how good those two words felt. “What are we doing?”

Finn raised his other hand and brought it to my face. He cupped my jaw, then slid his palm back until his fingers were threaded through my hair. “Being foolish.”

Our lips collided as we both moved. Me, up into his arms. Him, backward, taking us higher up in the bed.

His tongue swept inside my mouth, exploring. My own twisted and tangled with his, tasting all that was Finn until he broke away to trail hot, wet kisses down my neck.

“I don’t want to go.” His fingers wrapped around the hem of my tee, pulling it up my ribs.

“Don’t go,” I panted, my own fingers reaching for the button on his jeans. The minute it was free, I slid down the zipper. Finn’s erection throbbed inside his boxer briefs.

Before I could slip my hand inside, Finn brought my shirt up and over my head, forcing my arms away. With a flick of his wrist, the blue lace bra I’d put on this morning, the one I knew he’d like, was gone.

Finn sat up enough to strip off his own T-shirt, then smashed our lips together once more.

My nipples peaked against the firm plane of his chest, the dusting of dark red hair tickling them and sending a rush of desire to my core. And I forgot about the many rational reasons we shouldn’t be doing this.

We simply stripped each other bare until Finn rolled me onto my back and settled himself between my thighs. My hips cradled his. My arms wound around his waist, holding us together as he eased inside me.

My eyes fell shut, my breath stolen by the sensation of him filling the voids I’d ignored for so, so long. Here, in this place, everything made sense. Nothing was careless. Here, together, it was like going backward in time. We traveled to the days when those letters were being penned. To when happiness radiated around us.

To when we got lost in one another, the rest of the world a blur.

Finn and I were so lost that neither of us noticed the person outside.

The person leaving another letter in my mailbox.





- LETTER -





Molly,



Tonight you told me you wanted to postpone the wedding. That was right before you asked me to leave your apartment so you could have some space. We’re getting married next week and you need space. We’re getting married next week and you want to postpone our wedding because your mother has convinced you that it’s too soon. We’ve been dating for two and a half years, and it’s too soon to get married? What the fuck?