Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar, #2)(5)

“In a sec.” I waved at Finn, the last to emerge from his truck. “Hi.”

“Nice wheels, Molly.” He pushed his aviators into his thick, rust-colored hair as he rounded the hood of his truck. “No more Beluga, huh?”

“No more Beluga.”

His blue eyes found mine, and they flashed with sadness for a moment.

I wasn’t sure what to say. Somewhere on the road from our first cheeseburger to signing the divorce papers, we’d forgotten how to confide in one another.

It was all ancient history now. I was happily single. Finn had been dating other women for years. Like Beluga, some things weren’t meant to last forever.

“Hey, Gavin.” Finn walked up to us, his hand extended.

“Finn.” Gavin returned the handshake, then looked over at me. “I’ll get out of your hair. I’m around this weekend if you change your mind about the lawn.”

“Thanks.” I waved at him as he walked across my yard to his own.

“What about the lawn?” Finn asked when he was out of earshot.

“Oh, nothing. He just offered to mow it for me.”

Finn frowned. “Not an option. Look at his yard. He can’t figure out how to adjust his blades or walk in a straight line. You mow ten times better than that guy.”

“At least he offered to save me the headache.”

“Headache? I thought you liked mowing.”

“Once upon a time.” When my life had been a fairy tale. Before the glass slippers had splintered.

“Mom, let’s go.” Max was racing circles around the Jeep. His wide smile showed the two teeth he was missing at the moment. He needed a haircut because it was constantly falling in his eyes, but I hated cutting his hair. I had ever since he was a baby.

It was a mixture of Finn’s and mine. Not quite red, but not my brown either. It wasn’t as curly as Kali’s—there was only a slight wave—and it had the same texture as Finn’s thick, silky strands. Whenever I cut it, he looked so much older.

“I’m hungry,” he shouted, still running.

“When is he not?” I muttered. “He’s growing like a weed.”

Finn nodded. “I was thinking the same thing the other day. He’ll stay here a few nights and then I hardly recognize him when it’s my turn.”

Max was one of the tallest kids on his youth basketball team, and his frame actually filled out his peewee football pads. There was no doubt about it, he’d grow up to have Finn’s broad shoulders and chest. He’d be tall like Finn too.

Max’s only trait that was one hundred percent mine was his eyes. Both he and Kali had my brown eyes.

Finn’s deep blue irises were his and his alone.

“Mom,” Max huffed, opening the back door. “Let’s go.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s unload your stuff from the truck first so Dad doesn’t have to wait around for us.”

“No, that’s okay.” Finn jerked his chin to the Jeep. “You guys go. I’ll unload.”

“All right. Thanks. I’ll shoot you a text about drop-off on Monday.”

“Sounds good.”

I’d nodded good-bye and had taken three steps for the Jeep when Finn called, “Molly?”

I turned. “Yeah?”

He smiled. “You always wanted a Jeep. I’m glad you have one.”

“Me too.” I waved, not letting my gaze linger on my ex-husband for too long.

Finn was wearing his normal summer attire of a navy Alcott Landscaping polo, jeans and gray tennis shoes. His clothes used to be covered in grass stains, his hands marred with dirt. He’d come home to me smelling like sweat and sunshine and we’d go at one another without hesitation.

Those days were just memories now. Still, he was dangerously handsome, standing with his legs planted wide underneath the bright May sky. It was a good thing the kids and I were driving away. Too much time with Finn and my mind would start to replay those old scenes, the ones where his lips felt so soft against mine.

“Ready?” I focused on the kids, who were jumping into the car. When we were all loaded and the windows rolled down, I reversed out of the driveway, giving Finn one last wave before driving away.

I caught his wave in the mirror as he stood in the yard that had once been ours.

We’d been divorced for six years and three months, and damn it, Finn still looked like he belonged in that yard. Like Beluga, that house was an artifact that should probably have been buried too. I wouldn’t move the kids, so it was one burial that would wait until they were in college.

“Well? What do you guys think?” I asked them.

“This is so much cooler than the van,” Max yelled out his open window behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder to find Kali’s smile waiting. “It’s cool, Mom.”

Score. “It sure is.”

“Let’s get pizza,” Max yelled. The kid didn’t know any other volume besides loud.

I laughed and yelled too. “Pizza, here we come.”

Forty-five minutes later, the sound of a lawn mower preceded us as we turned into the cul-de-sac.

“Oh, great.” I really hoped Gavin hadn’t decided to do me a favor and mow my lawn. Sure enough, as we got closer, freshly cut swaths in my lawn greeted me. But it wasn’t Gavin mowing.