by Devney Perry
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Poppy asked. “You’re quiet this morning.”
I looked over my shoulder and smiled. “I’m fine. Just tired and I have a headache. Unless you think they need me out front, I think I’ll disappear into some spreadsheets in the office for a while.”
“Go. Be with your precious numbers.”
“Excel formulas are to me what fresh produce is to you.” I gave her a smile and took my coffee into the office, closing the door behind me, because I wanted to read Finn’s letter one more time.
I retrieved it from my purse and opened it carefully. Finn’s handwriting hadn’t changed much since college. My fingers skimmed the words written on the paper, touching them, as my eyes tracked from left to right.
That first date had been a whirlwind. We’d laughed for hours, talking about old dating customs. He’d teased me for wanting letters and being old-fashioned. Yet he’d gone home that night and written me one.
Why? Why hadn’t he given it to me then? Why had he sent it to me now?
Did I want those answers? Every cell in my being screamed no. Those answers terrified me. They’d rip open the scars that had finally healed.
If I could time travel, I’d reverse an hour and lump this letter in with the junk mail.
Because I hated this letter. I hated that I loved it. It was too strong a reminder of how good things had been. Maybe if we’d kept the happy memories closer to the surface, we wouldn’t have sunk so deeply into the bad.
Somewhere along the way, Finn and I had lost that spark.
We’d lived together. We’d loved our children together. But we hadn’t been together.
For a year, we’d fought constantly. We’d bickered endlessly. We’d tolerated each other, both of us waiting for the storm to pass. It hadn’t. The thunderstorm had turned into a hurricane . . . and then we had the fight to end all others.
That fight started, ironically, with my lawn mower. I’d been outside cutting the lawn after putting the kids to bed. I’d had their monitors clipped to the waistband of my jeans. But I hadn’t heard Kali sneak out of her bed.
After mowing the grass in near darkness, I went inside to find Kali in the kitchen, where she’d eaten an entire bag of chocolate chips. She puked for an hour.
Finn came home to find me holding back her hair as she wretched into the toilet. He blamed me for not being inside with the kids. I blamed him for not getting home from work in time to mow the lawn. Seething had turned into snapping. Snapping had turned into shouting.
After Kali finally went back to sleep, Finn and I had it out. We decided on a break. That night, he moved into the loft at his office.
I asked him to go to marriage counseling. He agreed but never showed up to a single session.
My life spiraled. I became a woman lost without her marriage as an anchor. And one night, when my hope in Finn and our relationship had been truly slaughtered, I drove the final nail into our coffin.
I made a mistake I’d always regret. I got drunk at a friend’s bachelorette party.
I had sex with another man.
The next day, I told Finn the truth. I told him how I was at rock bottom. That I loved him and desperately wanted to revive our marriage. I begged him for forgiveness.
He told me to get a lawyer.
Honestly, I probably would have said the same. Some mistakes were unforgiveable. Some mistakes came with a regret that lived like a monster in your soul.
I shook myself into the present, shoving that monster way down deep. All of that drama was ancient history now. Finn and I were divorced. He was happier that way. So was I.
Except with his letter in my hand, it was hard not to question every day since. We’d had so much love. How did we get here? How did we get all the way from that letter to us now?
The rock in my gut told me there was only one thing to do.
The letter had to go. I tightened my grip, ready to crumple it into a tiny wad, but my fingers lost their strength.
“Fine.” I refolded the letter and jammed it into my purse. I wouldn’t throw it away, at least not yet. Instead, I’d return it to Finn.
I’d return it and remind him that our marriage was dead. Those happy times were dead.
And there was no use stirring up old ghosts.
Chapter Three
Finn
Hours after I’d been kicked out of Molly’s bed, I walked into The Maysen Jar, scanning the open room for her. But she must have been in the back with Poppy because it was just Mom at the espresso machine. I crossed the room to the black marble counter at the back.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Finn.” She smiled over her shoulder. “What a nice surprise. Give me one minute to finish up this latte.”
“Take your time.” As she went back to steaming milk, I slid into a stool next to Randall, one of the regulars at the restaurant. “Morning.”
The old man jerked up his chin but didn’t return my greeting. His cane was propped in the space between our stools. His gray driving cap rested on his knee.
“How are you?”
All I got was a one-shoulder shrug.
Randall didn’t like me much. I didn’t take it personally, because Randall James didn’t like anybody much except for Poppy and Molly. He gave them a hard time constantly, griping that the background music was too loud or the lights were too bright. Any bullshit complaint he could dream up. He bitched and moaned because they limited the number of apple pies he could have in a day, but he loved them.
He’d been their first customer, barging into The Maysen Jar before it had even opened. And to my knowledge, he’d been here nearly every day since.
Randall sat in the same stool every day, one that Poppy and Molly had marked reserved so no one else would dare sit there. They didn’t want customers to face his grumpy wrath. The seat on his right was also reserved, that one for Jimmy. He and Randall did everything together, including pretend they were archenemies.
“Morning, Finn,” Jimmy greeted.
“Hi, Jimmy. How are you today?”
“Doing just fine. Be better if the Rockies could hire a damn pitcher.”
Randall scoffed. “They don’t need a pitcher. What they need are a couple of players who can hit the damn ball.”
Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Do you know anything about baseball?”
“Clearly more than you if you think the Rockies have any hope of a winning season with their lineup.”
Jimmy twisted in his seat, glaring at Randall as the two prepared for one of their daily showdowns.
Today’s was baseball. Tomorrow would be the stock market. I’d been here a few weeks ago when the pair had shouted at one another about which smell better represented Montana: juniper bushes or sage brush.
Molly had been the one to break up that fight, threatening to revoke their second-dessert-free privilege if they didn’t shut the hell up.
It was coincidence that had brought Jimmy and Randall together. The two of them lived at The Rainbow, a local retirement home. When Randall had started coming to The Maysen Jar, he hadn’t known that his neighbor Jimmy was a relative of its owner.
Jimmy was Poppy’s grandfather-in-law. He’d been Jamie’s grandpa and had stayed close to Poppy after Jamie’s death. Since Jimmy didn’t drive and Randall did, they came to the restaurant together each morning. They’d drink coffee and eat and bicker. My theory was they both lived to piss the other off.
Poppy loved having them, not only because they were a part of her family, but because they provided free entertainment for the restaurant’s patrons.
Owning a restaurant had been Poppy’s childhood dream and The Maysen Jar was exactly her style. It wasn’t big. She’d bought an old, two-stall mechanic’s garage and converted it into a warm, open and thriving café.
The cement floors, which had been covered in oil splotches, were hidden underneath a hickory herringbone wood floor. The actual garage bay doors had been ripped out and replaced with floor-to-ceiling bl
ack-paned windows. I wasn’t sure how many buckets of grime and grease she’d cleaned away.
If I hadn’t seen the original, I wouldn’t have believed this place was once a garage. She’d transformed it, only keeping the original exposed red brick walls and leaving the tall, industrial ceilings open. Black tables and chairs filled the room. The counter at the back was the home base where people could order coffee or meals from the display case.
It was trendy without being hip. It was classic without being stuffy. It was Poppy mixed with an undercurrent of Molly.
Molly’s touch was everywhere, probably only noticed by me. It was in the way the menu cards were stacked neatly by the register. How underneath this counter, the shelves were organized with bins and containers for silverware rolls or extra napkins. How the tables were arranged so the center aisle was wide enough to walk down with a bussing bin propped on a hip.
That was Molly. She put others first, and here, others meant Poppy, employees and customers.
She’d set up this business as best as possible to ensure Poppy’s success. Molly had done the same for Alcott Landscaping when we’d started it together. Back when it had just been her, me and a couple of lawn mowers. She had an eye for efficiency and had helped our business take off.
Molly had a gift for keeping things organized, yet relaxed and fun. She infused love and family into everything she did. Alcott had lost a touch of that lately.
More than a touch, if I was being honest.
“Okay.” Mom came back around the corner from delivering the finished latte. “What can I get for you?”
“I’d take a coffee.”
“You got it.” Without asking for specifics, Mom whipped me up my favorite caramel latte. I wouldn’t tell Mom this, but Poppy’s version was better. “So, what are you doing here? I thought you’d be at work.”
“Just wanted to stop in and say hello. I had a slow morning.”
I was lying through my teeth. My to-do list was growing faster than wet grass on a sunny day, but work was impossible for me at the moment.
After leaving Molly’s, I’d gone home to shower and change. Then I’d gone into the office, hoping to get ahead for the day. I’d spent an hour staring at the screensaver on my computer while images of last night had run through my mind.
Her long hair on those white pillows. My white pillow. The smooth skin of her thighs caressing my hips. The tickle of her fingers as she ran them up and down my spine.
My cock twitched just thinking about sinking inside her again.
What the hell had we been thinking? It had been so long and fuck, I’d missed sex with Molly. It was so easy and natural. The years fell away as we drifted into that familiar dance.
I’d gotten lost in her last night.
No matter how many days or months or years went by, Molly was still unforgettable. The best I’d ever had. The way she felt beneath me, her fingernails digging into my shoulder blades as I rocked us into oblivion, was like nothing else in the world.
That meant something, didn’t it? That we’d been just as good last night as we had all those years ago? It shouldn’t mean anything. We were divorced. It was just damn good sex. That was all. Right?
Bottom line? Too much had happened to destroy our relationship. There were other things from the past that were unforgettable.
And unforgiveable.
“Finn.” Mom waved her hand in front of my face.
I blinked. “What?”
“I asked if you wanted some breakfast to go with your latte.”
“Oh, um, sure. Overnight oats, please.”
“Are you all right?” She walked down to the refrigerated display case and took out the jar for me. “You look tired.”
“I just got up early.”
“You work too hard.” Mom sighed. “When was the last time you took a vacation?”
“It’s been a while.”
Brenna had planned my last vacation. She’d begged me to spend a weekend skiing at Big Sky this past winter. The maybe I’d given her had been interpreted as a yes, and she’d taken it upon herself to plan the whole thing.
Brenna had booked a romantic weekend away for us at a local ski resort. Except somehow our wires had gotten crossed, because it had turned out to be my weekend with the kids. Our romantic weekend had turned into a weekend with only me and the kids because Brenna had pouted and gone back to Bozeman.
Max, Kali and I’d had a blast skiing and staying up late in the pool.
That had been the second time she’d gotten annoyed about me having the kids on a weekend. The third time had been last weekend, when she’d wanted to sleep over but I’d told her no because the kids were there.
She’d thrown a fit, so I’d called it off.
I didn’t have a place in my life for a woman who didn’t want to spend time with my kids. A woman who couldn’t respect that I wasn’t ready for certain things in our relationship. It wasn’t entirely her fault but I’d made my position clear. She’d chosen to ignore me.
“Finn.” Mom placed her hand over mine. “You are all over the place today. Take a vacation. Please. Work will always be there.”
“I know. I’m cutting back.”
She frowned. “Really?”
“I’m trying to cut back,” I admitted.
“Try harder.”
She’d said the same thing to me almost every week since she and Dad had moved to Bozeman. It was wonderful to have them closer, especially for the kids, but they had a lot more insight into my life.
And Mom—much like Jimmy and Randall, who were still arguing next to me—didn’t hold back her opinions on my lifestyle. Dad didn’t either.
They thought my business had caused a rift in my marriage that had eventually led to complete and utter destruction.
I didn’t agree. Sure, I’d gotten busy, but I’d been providing for our family. Molly knew that too.
My phone buzzed in my pocket—a text from my landscape designer, Bridget. She was having trouble figuring out a retaining wall for a property we were landscaping along the Gallatin River. I thumbed through the pictures she’d sent and texted back a couple ideas.
Then I dove into my breakfast and sipped my latte before it got cold. “Is Molly here?”
I hoped my question came across as casual, not the reason I’d come in here today. The last person who needed to know I’d had sex with Molly last night was my mother.
“I haven’t seen her yet, but she’s probably in the back with Poppy.”
I swallowed the last drink of my latte and pushed up from my stool. “I’m going to head on back there then. I need to talk to her about something.”
“Everything okay with the kids?” she asked.
My family knew that Molly and I didn’t do much anymore but talk about the kids. Our once-epic relationship had been reduced to conversations about pickups, drop-offs and the kids’ nights at her place versus mine.
“Kali and Max are great. I just need to visit with her about some schedule stuff.”
It was worth the lie. The truth would send Mom into a tizzy. She’d get her hopes up that Molly and I might reconcile. Worse, she’d get Poppy’s hopes up.
My sister had lived through enough heartache, so she didn’t need to be on the roller coaster that was Molly and me.
That ride had ended.
I pushed through the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the restaurant and found Poppy at her workstation, pressing circles of pie crust into miniature glass jars.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” She looked up, her hands covered in flour. “What are you doing here?”
I shrugged, sticking with the same lie I’d told Mom. “I had a slow morning at work.”
“Did you get breakfast?”
I nodded. “Mom fed me.”
Since the divorce, everyone’s top concern was my meals. Even though I’d taught myself how to cook—and pretty damn well—I was constantly given casseroles and frozen meals to reheat. It hadn’
t gone unnoticed that they showed up the night before the kids were with me.
But the kids and I loved Poppy’s and Mom’s cooking, so I hadn’t put a stop to it.
“Is Molly here?” I asked.
“She’s in the office.”
“Thanks. I’m going to sneak back there.” Leaving her to the pies, I went to the office, rapping my knuckles on the door before going inside.
Molly was at the desk behind a laptop. Her eyes widened as I walked inside. “What are you doing here?”
I closed the door behind me. “Well, you kicked me out before we could talk this morning, so —”
“There’s nothing to discuss.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “It was a one-time lapse in judgment.”
“Yeah. I guess.” She was completely right, but her words didn’t settle with me.
I walked over to the wall Poppy had covered in corkboard squares so she could pin up a ton of pictures. I wasn’t ready to turn tail and leave this conversation, but I also needed a few moments because I had no idea what else to say.
Most of the pictures on Poppy’s wall were of her and Cole and their kids. There were some of me. Some of Molly. There were even a few from college, when Molly and I had been inseparable, when there hadn’t been a party we all hadn’t attended together.
When Jamie had been alive.
Damn, I missed that guy. I bet he’d tease the hell out of Molly and me for hooking up last night.
I wasn’t sure how Poppy could come in here and see his picture. It gutted me every time I saw his face and remembered he was gone. I still remembered his mother’s scream the night I’d called to tell his parents that their son had been murdered.
I forced my eyes away from a photo of Jamie sitting behind Poppy on a snowmobile. I scanned more photos, hoping Molly would be the one to break the silence.
I smiled at MacKenna’s and Brady’s faces. Even though she’d had a horrific few years, Poppy had made it through and was happier than ever with Cole by her side. With those two beautiful kids.
My smile dropped when I landed on a more recent photo. I hadn’t been in here for months, but now I wished I’d stopped in the back more often. The picture was of Brenna and me playing board games at Poppy and Cole’s place. It didn’t belong on this board.