Page 148 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)

* * *

Yours,

Finn

Epilogue

Molly

Ten months later . . .

“Finn, would you please slow down?” It was the third time I’d asked.

“I’m going the speed limit.”

“It feels faster.” I couldn’t see the speedometer, but from the backseat of the Jeep, it felt like he was practicing for the qualifiers at the Indy 500.

He grumbled something I couldn’t hear before shooting me a glare through the rearview mirror.

“Eyes on the road!”

“Molly, we’re going to be late.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he fought to keep his patience.

I was in a bad mood today. Everyone in the car knew it. Kali was sitting up front in the passenger seat, doing her best to avoid my wrath by blending in with the leather upholstery. Max was next to me, his gaze aimed out the window to avoid all eye contact.

“I’m sorry, guys.” I sighed. “I’m just tired. And I really don’t want to do this today.”

Finn’s eyes softened as he looked back in the mirror. I gave him a small smile.

The last thing I wanted was to go to this memorial today. They weren’t fun to begin with, and today’s would be doubly miserable considering the week I’d had.

On Monday, I’d spent twenty hours in labor attempting to birth our son. And when the baby just wouldn’t come out, my obstetrician had wielded her scalpel and sliced me in half. That was on Tuesday. Wednesday, Thursday and Friday had been spent in an uncomfortable hospital bed because at thirty-seven years old, my doctors were worried I might have complications from the C-section. Finally, after a mandatory seventy-two-hour postop hospital stay, they’d set us free on Saturday morning.

Finn and I, along with James Randall Alcott, had been able to go home. What I wanted more than anything for my Sunday was to laze around on the couch enjoying our new baby. Instead, I’d shoved the watermelons that were my breasts into a nursing bra. I’d showered, done my hair, put on makeup and dressed in my most nonmaternity maternity shirt with my pregnant jeans.

And we’d all piled into the car to go to a memorial service for Randall.

I wasn’t sure how I’d summon the energy to stand by a tombstone for more than twenty minutes. The last week had exhausted me completely. I didn’t remember feeling this tired after having Kali or Max, but with Jamie, my age had become an issue.

“Is this going to take a long time?” Max asked.

“I hope not. I really hope not.”

“Let’s make the best of it, okay? After we’re done at the cemetery, we’ll go to the restaurant and you guys can run around.”

We were closed today for a family function. That was going to be my saving grace. I only had to make it through the service, then I could hide away at the restaurant, where everyone wouldn’t care if I sat in a quiet corner to nurse the baby. There’d be plenty of people to bring me things.

It wasn’t my couch at home dressed in my ratty maternity sweatpants, but it was the next best thing.

Pl

us, it would give everyone a chance to fuss over Jamie.

Finn and I hadn’t planned on another baby. Two weeks after he’d moved in, I’d found a letter on the bathroom counter. Underneath was a diamond engagement ring.

I wasn’t wearing it at the moment because my fingers had swollen into sausage links during my pregnancy. But the second I could make out knuckles again, it was going back on my hand.

I toyed with the chain around my neck. It had the first engagement ring Finn had given to me in college along with my first wedding band.