Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar, #2)(8)

He sighed. “I’ll probably just catch up at work. I’m behind on a couple of bids.”

No surprise there. Finn worked constantly when the kids were with me.

“Mom,” Max hollered from upstairs. “Can we watch a movie?”

“Sure,” I called back.

I stood from the table and cleared Finn’s plate as footsteps pounded down the wooden stairs and the kids came running into the kitchen.

Max frowned when he saw the empty pizza box on the table. “Can we make popcorn?”

I laughed, walking toward the pantry. “Yes, we can have popcorn.”

“Dad, do you want to stay and watch with us?” Kali asked.

My hand froze on the doorknob as I waited for his answer. She probably felt bad now that he was single again. No doubt he’d told the kids about his breakup with Brenna.

Did I want Finn to stay? Not really. He’d had the kids for three days and it was my turn. But for their sake, I’d never make him leave.

Finn and I made it a point to plan certain activities for the four of us. We’d have the occasional dinner or take the kids on a special adventure like skiing or hiking. It was important to us both that the kids saw us getting along.

But I spent days preparing for those times. I braced myself for how hard it would be to pretend we were a whole family, even for only a few hours.

“Maybe,” Finn answered Kali. “I need to talk to your mom for a minute.”

“You guys go pick the movie,” I told the kids. “Together, please. No fighting.”

When they were out of the room, I grabbed the popcorn from the pantry and put it in the microwave.

“Would you mind if I stayed?” he asked.

“Not at all.” It wasn’t a complete lie. After three glasses of wine, I wouldn’t care a bit that he was on the opposite end of the couch.

The popcorn began popping and I went to my wine rack, pulling out a favorite red.

“I’ll do it.” Finn stepped closer and I dodged out of the way so we wouldn’t bump into one another.

We didn’t touch. There were no hugs or kisses on the cheek. We smiled. We waved. But we never touched.

I slid the bottle across the counter and took out the corkscrew from a drawer. While he opened the bottle, I found glasses. He poured for us both. I shook the popcorn into a bowl, and the two of us walked into the living room, the one we used to share, to watch a movie with our kids on my leather sectional.

This was for them.

The key to a successful divorce, I’d found, was establishing boundaries. Like touching Finn, there were things I didn’t allow myself to do.

I refused to enjoy the sound of Finn’s laugh. I didn’t spare him a glance when Kali snuggled into his side, his arm curling around her tight. I didn’t pay any attention to his blue eyes as they tracked me on my repeated trips into the kitchen to refill my wine glass.

No, I watched the movie on my TV from my couch in my living room. I focused on drinking my wine.

Boundaries, that was the key. And an armored tank wasn’t getting across mine.





The alarm on my phone was always loud and shrill at five thirty in the morning. Today it seemed exponentially worse. I shot up from bed, sitting so straight the blankets and sheet went flying.

“Ugh.” My stomach rolled. My head was splitting in two, and my naked skin felt sticky.

I’d had way too much wi—

Why the hell am I naked? I didn’t sleep naked. Ever.

Not since . . .

I jumped from the bed, my eyes wide as they landed on the long, muscular arm curved around one of my white down pillows. A head of tousled red hair was resting on another. A leg, dusted with that same hair, was tucked outside a sheet.

“Oh my God,” I gasped as it all came rushing back. The movie. Finn carrying the kids to bed. Standing too close in the hallway. The simple brush of our hands.

The kiss.

The sex.

No. No no no no no.

So much for my boundaries.

Damn you, wine.





- LETTER -





Darling Molly,



This is why people don’t write letters anymore. I feel like a douche. But here I am, in all my douche glory, writing you a letter I am never going to send.



I’m glad my sister was too into Jamie to notice us. I’m glad you like burgers with extra cheese and extra bacon. I’m glad you gave me your phone number.



I’m not sorry I’ve already called you twice just to hear your voice.



So since you’re never going to read this, I guess it’s safe to tell you I had the best date of my life with you tonight. I don’t know if you’d call it a date. But I’m calling it a date.



Watch out, Molly Todd. I just might have to marry you.



Yours,

Finn





Two





Molly





I was scrambling around the side of the bed, racing for the bathroom, when my feet got tangled in something on the floor. My knees crashed onto the rug. My hair flew into my face as my arms shot out to catch my fall.

“Sonofabitch,” I whispered, pushing the hair out of my face to see what had tripped me.