Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar, #2)(85)

“Nothing,” I answered.

“I asked Molly on a date.”

“Finn,” I snapped, smacking him on the arm.

“What? They’re going to find out anyway.”

“And why is that?”

He grinned. “Because after our date on Sunday night, you’ll be all smiles come Monday morning.”





Nineteen





Finn





“You’re taking me to Burger Bob’s?” Molly asked as we walked down the sidewalk along Main Street.

I grinned and dropped my hand to the small of her back. “You still like burgers with extra cheese and extra bacon, don’t you?”

“Duh.”

“Then Burger Bob’s it is.” My smile widened as I opened the door for her. We both took in the restaurant, standing in the threshold for a long moment. I steered Molly to a high-top table along the far wall, one that would give us privacy to talk.

It hadn’t been easy to convince Molly to come out tonight. She’d declined five more times the day she’d gotten my letter at the restaurant. But I’d stood behind the counter, asking over and over with my feet bolted to the floor, refusing to leave until she’d agreed to a date tonight.

Finally, she’d huffed and said yes. Jimmy had clapped for us. Randall had glared.

I’d picked up Molly twenty minutes ago. Mom had arrived early at my place to hang with the kids. She’d promised three times to adhere to their normal bedtime—but we all knew Kali and Max would get to stay up late on a school night.

I’d knocked on the door with two bouquets of lilies in hand: one for Molly’s bedroom and another for the kitchen.

She loved lilies. She said they made the house smell like a fairy garden. As I’d handed over my credit card to the florist, I’d realized it had been much too long since I’d bought her flowers. Molly deserved them weekly, and if this worked, if I won her back, she’d have them.

Maybe by bringing her here to Burger Bob’s, to the place where we’d met, she’d remember that excitement. She’d relax and enjoy an evening out. As it was, she’d been tense on the ride over. She’d been quiet. But the greasy smell in the air, promising a good meal, would loosen her up. I was sure of it.

I wasn’t planning on talking about anything serious tonight. This meal was all about spending time with each other. I wasn’t going to tell Molly that I was in love with her. I wasn’t going to tell her I wanted to move home and sell my place. I wasn’t going to tell her that we didn’t need to forget our past because I forgave her. I was working on forgiving myself.

I wasn’t going to beg her to pardon me for all of the wrong I’d done in our marriage.

Those declarations would come.

Tonight, I wanted to soak up her smile and savor her laughter.

Molly sat at the table first, tucking her purse underneath. She was wearing a pair of skinny jeans that showcased the gorgeous curve of her hips. Her hair was down, falling across her bare arms and the thin straps of the gray satin and lace tank top she’d chosen—thank you, Mother Nature, for the unseasonably warm Montana October.

Molly looked sexy as hell. It had been hard not to take her into my arms on her doorstep, but I’d resisted, biding my time for a good-night kiss later tonight when I dropped her at home.

“You know what I love most about this place?” Her eyes roamed over the high ceilings, the wooden tables—years of scratches on their surfaces—and the plethora of frames with photos of Bozeman memorabilia adorning the walls. “It never changes. It always smells the same and feels the same. Since college, it’s never changed.”

I stretched my hand across the table to cover hers. “Thank you for coming here tonight.”

“You’re welcome.” She flipped her hand over so we were palm to palm. The hair ties on her wrist tickled my skin. “Why did you ask me on a date?”

“You know the reason.”

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Why’d you pick Burger Bob’s?”

“To remember. And to start again.” I wrapped my fingers around her hand. “There are other things in this room that haven’t changed since college.”

“Like the grease coating the floor?”

“No.” I chuckled then locked my eyes with hers. “Like when you’re in the room, you’re all I see.”

Her cheeks flushed, her eyes darting to our hands. If she was going to say something, it got lost when two plastic menus were set down on the table.

“Welcome, guys. What can I get you to drink?” the waitress asked.

Molly and I each ordered a beer. As the waitress left to get them, I released Molly’s hand to scoop up both menus. “May I order for you?”

“Yes, but I reserve the right to interject if you get it wrong.”

“Wrong.” I scoffed. I’d memorized Molly’s cheeseburger order the night I’d met her. And I knew it hadn’t changed in fifteen years.

The waitress appeared with our beers. “What are we having?”

“Two burgers, medium well. Both with extra cheese and extra bacon. Fries with each. Side of ranch with hers. I’m good with ketchup.”