Page 43 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)

Hope was a funny thing. I’d spent six years dousing it. Stomping it out so it was well and dead. But that second letter had flared my hopes to life.

Did he think there was a chance for us again? Did he want to try?

Randall was right. I was a fool.

Finn hadn’t sent those letters. He’d hidden them away. He’d put his feelings down on paper not to share, but to live in a box or a folder or wherever the hell he’d kept them all these years.

I was mad at Finn for hiding them. More so, I was mad at myself for believing he wanted me again for more than a romp in his former bed.

I folded up the letter and tucked it away. The trash can next to my feet was tempting, but I couldn’t throw it out. In those pages, written in blue ink, was happiness. Maybe one day Kali would want to read it. Maybe Max would want to know the kinds of things his father had felt about his mother. I’d save them, for the kids. I’d put the letters in a safe place and cross my fingers that these were the only two.

If Finn wasn’t sending them, then who was putting them in my mailbox? My money was on Poppy. Maybe she thought it would bring us back together. Or Rayna. Tomorrow when we were all together, I’d ask. I’d make sure their hopes were as crushed as my own.

A customer came through the door, followed by another. The lunch rush was starting, saving me from my thoughts, and I worked with a smile, replaying Randall’s story in my head one hundred times.

He’d given me a different perspective on the divorce. Finn and I had called it quits at the right time, before our anger and frustration with one another had turned to hate.

The last six years had been good for me. I’d found the me I’d lost when I’d given everything to Finn.

I’d worked for his business. I’d lived by his schedule. I’d gone on his hikes and mowed his lawn. I hadn’t done enough for myself during our marriage. And at the time of our split, I’d been a stay-at-home mother who’d lost herself in the lives of those she loved.

Spending nights alone while Finn had the kids had given me plenty of hours to think. To reflect. And to change.

I’d worked on me over the last six years. I was a mom. A business manager. A lover of red wine. A hater of rice pilaf. I enjoyed going to movies alone, and I splurged on a pint of Häagen-Dazs cookie dough ice cream once a month. I only went places that made me happy. I stayed away from places that made me sad, like Alcott Landscaping and Finn’s home.

I put up boundaries to keep out the ugly. I embraced the beautiful.

I found the Molly without the Finn.

This time around, I was holding on to her with a death grip. She was too important to lose again.

I worked through the afternoon, and when I left the restaurant in Dora’s capable hands for the evening, I drove to get the kids with a lighter heart.

Max and Kali danced wildly, arms flailing with bright smiles as they ran to the Jeep. Not a second of silence occurred on the drive because both were so excited about their summer plans.

The moment they spotted Finn’s truck, the excitement skyrocketed.

Mine tanked. I was in a better spot than I’d been this morning, but I could still use a break from Finn. I needed a few nights to put some walls up. To steel myself for those jitters that always came with seeing his handsome face.

Damn you, jitters.

“Dad!” Max yelled from the car window. “Are we working tonight?”

“If you’re up for it.”

Max clapped his hands once, then pointed to the garage. “I’ll get my gloves.”

I took it as my command to pull in and park. The kids got out, meeting Finn at the bumper.

“Hi, Dad.” Kali smiled at him then followed Max to collect their gloves from a shelf on the garage wall.

Leaving Finn and me standing alone.

“Could you please text me or something before you come over?” That came out bitchier than I’d planned. Oh, well.

“Sorry.” Finn hung his head. “I don’t want to leave the yard a mess. I started all this. I need to finish it.”

“Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “But a heads-up would be appreciated in case I have plans.”