Page 73 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)

Kali stood and looked to Molly. “Can I stay home today too?”

“Sure, sweetheart. You guys can get snuggled on the couch. I’ll turn on a movie.”

I stood up to let Max lie down. Kali took the corner where Molly had been sitting. When they were both covered with blankets and the television was on quietly, I followed Molly back to the bedroom, closing the door behind us.

“We can’t do this to them, Finn. Not again.”

“I know.” I rubbed my jaw. “Ready or not, we have to stop.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, leaving a space for me to sit too. With our thighs touching, I put a hand between us, palm up. She instantly put hers palm down, threading our fingers together.

“It was always going to end, wasn’t it?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It was.”

“I’m not sorry.”

“Neither am I,” she whispered. “Maybe this was the ending we should have had all along. The one we missed because we were too busy being angry and bitter and hurt. I like this ending much better.”

“So do I.”

We sat together, hands clasped, until it was time to break apart. When she attempted to pry her fingers loose from mine, I didn’t let go at first. But she wiggled them again and I had no choice. When she stood and walked to the bathroom, I felt it again.

The hole.

It had been gone for the last month, temporarily filled.

I stood from the bed and went to the bathroom door to say good-bye. I pushed it open a crack. In the shower, Molly’s shoulders were hunched forward, shaking.

She was crying.

Fuck, but I wanted to hold her. I wanted to promise that it would be okay. We’d figure it out together.

But we’d tried that once. I’d made those promises when we’d been married and hadn’t kept a single one.

So I backed away, closing the door to just a crack so she wouldn’t think I’d been watching.

“I’m going to take off,” I called.

“O-okay.”

“Bye.” I closed the door and sagged against the frame. Then I did what I should have done last night. I left.

Everything about it felt wrong. I was leaving Molly in tears. Max was sick on the couch. Kali had retreated into her own world, barely saying a word as I kissed her good-bye.

I didn’t drive home but to work i

nstead, wearing yesterday’s clothes. If I went home, I’d shower. I didn’t want to shower, not when Molly’s scent lingered on my skin.

I was the first to arrive at Alcott. My truck was parked alone in front of the office, like it had been many, many mornings. Before I got out to go inside, a memory hit me hard.

When Max was one, he’d gotten sick with a summer cold. Molly got it too. She was miserable and asked if I could stay home for the day to entertain Kali. I left for work instead, leaving her to handle the kids alone. I parked alone that morning too. What I should have done all those years ago was turn around. Or better yet, not left in the first place.

“Goddamn it,” I cursed at the steering wheel.

I was making the same mistakes over again, except today was different. I couldn’t go back to Molly’s and fix this. If I went back, I would just make it worse and confuse the kids even more.

So I went inside the office and turned on my computer. I worked unfocused and angry, wondering how many other mistakes I’d made, knowing there had been many.