Page 74 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)

I stared at design plans for a project, the lines and words blurring together. Work, my constant companion, wasn’t such good company today. This wasn’t my refuge anymore. I couldn’t solve this problem by working harder.

I’d always thought that if Alcott was successful, it would give me more freedom to help at home. It would ensure that Molly and the kids would be fine if anything ever happened to me. If I died, they’d be set for life.

Goal attained. Alcott was successful, whether I was at the helm or not.

And it had cost me everything. It had cost me my wife.

Something I’d realized a bachelorette party and one-night stand too late.

Eleven

Molly

Finn and I kept our distance from one another the week after the kids found us together. We retreated to our post-divorce routine, where the kids were at his house or mine and with only one parent present. Our only time spent together was when we were making the switch.

The universe must have known I couldn’t handle another letter because I hadn’t gotten one all week. I didn’t have the energy to relive the past or the courage to talk about the way things had been.

It was better this way, the single way.

It was better to focus on the now. Finn and I were not in love. That love was history.

The kids had been in off moods all week—no surprise there. Max had recovered quickly from his twenty-four-hour stomach bug and had spent the rest of the week at camp. He’d been quiet all week, his smiles rare. Kali’s had been nonexistent. She’d been so excited for camp, but because she was angry and confused, she went each day with a bad attitude. I felt awful for the counselors.

Because it was all my fault.

I’d gotten lost in memories. I’d let those letters cloud the reality of my situation. I’d gotten swept up, for the second time in my life, by Finn.

I wouldn’t think of my affair with Finn as wrong. It had felt so good to be touched, caressed, kissed . . . wanted. But I would think of it as reckless.

Having the kids catch us had been sobering. Mostly, I didn’t want Kali to think less of me. I didn’t want my daughter to grow up thinking I was at her father’s disposal. That wasn’t how Finn treated me. I knew that. But did she?

The morning was quiet as I sat at the kitchen table, eating my breakfast alone. I’d gotten up early, unable to sleep, and made myself some oatmeal. It was Finn’s favorite, which was not why I’d made it. It was my favorite too.

With the bowl empty, I stared at my fingers. You could barely see the indentation from my wedding rings now. It had taken a long time to fade, or maybe it only seemed like a long time because my finger looked naked without my wedding and engagement rings.

They were upstairs in a small box in my dresser. I’d taken them off three days after the divorce. I probably would have kept them on longer but I hadn’t wanted Finn to see them. He’d taken his off the day before we’d signed the papers. I’d waited until it was official.

For a year, I’d slip them on occasionally. Usually on nights when I was alone and missed him terribly. But I hadn’t had that urge for ages. Why did I want to this morning?

I shoved that temptation from my mind and got up to rinse my bowl and leave for work. I’d be early this morning and that was fine by me.

I went out the front door instead of the garage, wanting to check the mail before leaving. I walked down the porch steps, but instead of heading to the mailbox on the street, I paused and looked the other direction.

Gavin’s lights were on. The blinds were open to his office and he was already sitting at his desk, his eyes glued to a computer screen.

Forget the mailbox. I walked across my lawn, crossing the invisible boundary onto his, and marched up to his front door, not letting myself hesitate a second before knocking. I shifted from one foot to the other as his footsteps approached from inside.

When he opened the door, I forced a breathless smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” His eyebrows came together as he glanced over at my house. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I said too loud. My heart was racing. “It’s good. Great. I was, um . . .” I took a deep breath. “I was just wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner with me. On a date.”

“Oh.” Surprise flashed across his face. “A date?”

“A date.”

“I, uh . . . yeah.” He adjusted his glasses on his face. “I’d like that. But I have to be honest. I’ve noticed your ex’s truck in the driveway. A lot.”