by Devney Perry
Why would Poppy put that up on her wall? She hadn’t even liked Brenna that much. Maybe it was her way of telling me that she’d been trying to get to know my girlfriend.
It didn’t matter now. I yanked on the bottom of the picture, tearing it free from its pin, then I crumpled it up in one hand and tossed it in the trash can next to the desk. When I looked at Molly, her brown eyes were waiting.
“I’m sorry about your breakup,” she said gently.
“It’s fine.”
“Is that why you stayed for dinner last night? Because you were upset?”
“What? No. Things with Brenna haven’t been going well for a while. Like I told you, it was time.”
“You seem upset.”
I ran my hand over my jaw. “I’m not upset.”
“Well you just killed that picture. It seems like you’re upset.”
“I’m not upset.”
“It’s okay if you are.”
Fuck. Would this woman ever listen to me? “I’m not upset!”
My voice bounced off the walls and I immediately regretted raising my voice.
Molly scowled, then turned back to her laptop. “Fine. I’m busy. I know you probably are too. Since there isn’t anything else to discuss, you should probably get back to work.”
“Kicking me out again?”
She pursed her lips, positioning her hands over the keyboard. “I’ll have the kids call you before bedtime. Thanks again for mowing my lawn last night.”
That fucking lawn. What a disaster it had turned out to be. I blamed it for getting us into this position.
“Molly.” I sighed. “I’m sorry. I just . . . I’m not upset about Brenna. Really. I’m sorry I yelled.”
“I don’t want to fight, Finn.”
“Neither do I.” We’d done enough of that while we’d been married. “I’m off this morning. Last night was, well, I don’t know.”
“It was a mistake.”
“Was it?”
Her eyes snapped to mine. “What do you mean?”
“Was it a mistake?” I’d been wrestling with that question for hours.
“We’re divorced. Divorced people shouldn’t be having sex with one another. It’s too complicated.”
“It didn’t feel complicated.”
She blinked at me, her mouth falling open. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t know. I just know that last night was the best I’ve slept in years. And not just because I missed my pillow.”
The corner of her mouth turned up. “I couldn’t get rid of that pillow. I thought about it, but I just couldn’t.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Maybe you should take it with you. That way you’ll have it at home.”
Home.
The image that popped into my head at that word was her house, not mine. The place I’d lived for the past five and a half years had never felt like home. Taking my pillow wasn’t going to change that feeling.
Has another man slept on my pillow? That thought hit me hard and fast, sinking like a rock in my stomach. The kids hadn’t mentioned Molly dating anyone since our divorce. Poppy certainly hadn’t told me. But maybe Molly was hiding it. Maybe she’d had someone else in her life and I’d never even known.
Was it Gavin?
Had he mowed her lawn, then spent the night? I wouldn’t let myself think of Molly with another man, her neighbor included. The other man, the only other one I knew about, was hard enough to live with. I’d spent years trying to block out visuals of another man’s lips on her neck, his fingers in her hair.
If another guy had slept on that pillow, I sure as fuck didn’t want it back.
“Keep the pillow.”
“Okay.” She dropped her gaze to her lap and picked at a fingernail. This was what Molly did when she was thinking her words through, so I braced. Normally this was when she said things I didn’t want to hear. “I don’t know what happened last night.”
“You don’t remember?” That was a blow to the ego. We’d both had quite a few glasses of wine, but she hadn’t been blackout drunk, and I thought I’d done a pretty good job of making her toes curl.
“No. I remember what happened. I just don’t know why it happened.”
“I don’t either.” I walked to the desk and sat on the edge. “Were you lonely?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “Were you?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Then I guess we were two lonely people having sex to feel a connection to another person.” I hated the sound of that. It was not the right explanation.
Molly grimaced. “That sounds pathetic.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“Gah.” Molly’s fingers dove into her hair, pulling at the roots. It was her telltale sign a rant was coming. “What are we doing? We were finally figuring things out. Getting into a routine with the kids. Being around one another without fighting. Things have been so much easier lately. You even mowed my lawn. It’s almost like we’ve been . . .”
“Friends.”
Molly dropped her hands from her hair, which then fell over her chest as her shoulders collapsed forward. “Did we just undo six years and three months of hard work?”
Six years and three months. She’d been keeping track of how long it had been since the divorce. So had I.
“I don’t have a good explanation for last night,” I told her. “It happened. I’m not sorry for it. But I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”
“Me neither. I can’t take it. Neither can the kids. I think the best thing is to forget it ever happened.”
Forget? Not likely. At least not anytime soon. But for Molly, and for our kids, I could pretend it never happened. “Okay. If you think that’s best.”
“Well, don’t you?”
“I, uh . . . yeah. Yeah, that’s best.”
Wasn’t it? We were finished. So, yes. It was for the best.
My phone buzzed in my pocket again. The day at Alcott Landscaping was well underway. It was time for me to be a part of it. “I’d better let you get back to work.”
“Yep.” She nodded. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot happening too.”
“See you Monday night?”
“I’ll bring the kids over after I pick them up from school.”
“Then chaos starts the following week.”
She blew out a long breath. “This summer is going to be crazy.”
The kids had one activity lined up after another to keep them busy so we could both work. Kali was registered for five weeklong camps over the three-month school break. Max had four. Only two of them overlapped on the same week, which meant Molly and I would be chauffeuring kids all over the county.
Meanwhile, it was the busiest time of year for Alcott Landscaping.
“I don’t see a lot of sleep in my future.”
It was a joke, but Molly didn’t laugh. “I can keep the kids longer if you need to work. I know things are crazy in the summers.”
“No, it’s fine. I was joking.”
“Were you?”
“Yes.” No matter how much happened, my time with the kids was sacred. I’d work longer hours when they were at home with Molly.
“Okay. I know they’d hate to miss time with you.”
“I’d miss them too.” I already hated the nights we were apart. “So, see you Monday?”
“Monday.”
I stood from the desk and walked to the door, waving good-bye as I opened it.
But before I could go back into the kitchen, Molly said, “Wait, Finn. There’s something else.”
I turned back. “Yeah?”
She opened her mouth to say something but stopped. Her eyes dropped to her purse as she studied it for a moment.
“Why did you leave that . . .”
I waited but she just kept staring at her purse. “Why did I leave what?”
Before she could answer, my sister’s voice carried down the hallway. “Finn!”
�
��Yeah,” I called back.
“Mom wants to know what she should send home with you tonight for dinner.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need anything.”
“If you don’t choose, she will.”
“Fine. Give me one minute.” I turned back to Molly. “I know how to cook. I’m actually pretty decent.”
She pulled in her lips, holding back a smile.
“What? I am. Ask the kids. Kali said the spaghetti I made for them this weekend was my best yet.”
“I’m sure it was your best.”
“Thanks.” I turned for the door but backpedaled. “Wait. Do you know something? Do the kids not like my cooking?”
“I think they like it just fine. I think they love their aunt Poppy’s chicken potpies and their grandma’s tater tot casserole.”
“Fair enough. I’ll load up on their favorites for next week.” I tried again to leave the office, but I stopped. “You were asking me something?”
“Was I?” She shrugged. “I guess I forgot.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Thanks for coming down today. It’s nice to clear the air.”
“You’re welcome. Later.”
She nodded. “Bye.”
I walked out of the office, feeling better than when I’d come in. The air had been cleared. It was done. Molly and I would go back to the way things were.
Tonight, I’d be sleeping in my own bed with my own pillow.
Well, not exactly my own. It was Molly’s. In a weak moment, I’d taken hers with me during the divorce, not wanting to forget the smell of her fancy shampoo.
My feet paused. She kept my pillow. And I kept hers.
Six years was a long time for a pillow.
What did that mean?
Nothing. It meant nothing. It meant we were both too lazy to buy new pillows.
Didn’t it?
Chapter Four
Molly
Poppy and I each took a stool at the stainless steel table in the kitchen. After Finn had left earlier, I’d finished my office work then gone to work at the counter. The restaurant’s noon rush was over, and like we did most workdays, Poppy and I grabbed a salad from the fridge to eat together once things had died down.
Randall and Jimmy had left not long ago, heading back to The Rainbow for the rest of the day. I’d heard rumblings of a poker game with some of their other neighbors followed by a couple of hours enjoying Jimmy’s HBO subscription.
Rayna had also gone for the day, handing over counter coverage to Dora, our newest employee, who worked part-time for us while she went to school at Montana State. She’d caught on fast, so Poppy and I were leaving her on her own more and more these days.
I poured my salad dressing into the jar of vegetables, rescrewed the lid then shook the hell out of it. This was the best part of eating salad, even though Poppy’s were delicious. It was just that her macaroni and cheese was phenomenal. But I saved that for special occasions—and today was not one—so I dumped my mixed salad onto my plate and lifted my fork.
“Is everything okay between you and Finn?” Poppy asked the question I’d been expecting all morning. “When he closed the door to the office, I was worried you were fighting.”
“It’s good. We had to work out a few things with the schedule.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. We had agreed that his schedule would never again include sleeping at my house. “He actually mowed my lawn yesterday.”
“Who? Finn?” Her eyes widened. “That was, um, nice. Especially since he didn’t do it when you were married.”
I shoved a bite of salad into my mouth to hide a smirk. Poppy was possibly more irritated with Finn’s behavior as a husband than I was. She’d held on to that resentment for longer too, whereas I’d let it go—mostly.
“It was great not to do it for a change,” I told her. “It was either find the time or take Gavin up on his offer to do it for me.”
“Gavin wants to mow your lawn?” Poppy smiled as she forked some greens and wagged her eyebrows. “You should let him.”
“I’m blaming Cole’s influence for all the innuendo you’ve been dropping lately. He’s corrupted my sweet, demure friend,” I teased.
“He has corrupted me.” She smiled. “In the best possible way. Now I want someone to come along and corrupt you.”
“Nope.” I shook my head as I chewed. “I have a good life. I’m happy. No corruption needed, thank you very much.”
“On the days you have the kids, you are. But on the days when they’re with Finn . . .” She trailed off as she took another bite.
“I’m happy even on the days when the kids are with Finn.” Happy. Lonely.
“Gavin seems like a nice guy.”
“He is nice.”
He’d come into the restaurant every now and then to say hello, and Poppy had been pulling for him since the beginning. She thought his goatee and tortoise-shell glasses were sexy.
“Why don’t you give him a chance?” she asked.
“Maybe.” Last night, I’d considered dating again, but then I’d had sex with Finn and remembered I didn’t have time to deal with this kind of drama. Not that I could share that with Poppy. “Timing hasn’t worked out with Gavin. We’ll see how I feel if he asks me out again.”
She rolled her eyes. “You can ask him out.”
“No.” I scoffed. “Never happening. The guy asks out the girl.”
It was one of those things I’d been hung up on since I was a teenager. Maybe because of my parents’ conservative upbringing, but I liked the idea of a man courting a woman. I liked it when the man took charge and went out on a limb to show the woman he was interested. When he jumped out of his comfort zone because she was worth the risk.
The letter in my purse popped into my mind.
I should have asked Finn about the letter. Why didn’t I? It had been right on the tip of my tongue, but I’d chickened out and swallowed it back.
Ignorance was bliss, right? Knowing why he’d sent the letter now, why he hadn’t sent it back then, was guaranteed to sting. The truth was, I didn’t have the guts to bear that pain.
After we’d divorced, things between us were strained for months. Finn was so angry at me, rightly so, that he wasn’t able to look at me. He spoke to me only when absolutely necessary. We moved around each other like magnets turned the wrong way, pushing instead of pulling.
Then one night he came over to talk.
It was right after Poppy had started dating Cole. My theory was that he’d finally stopped punishing me because she’d inspired him.
Poppy had found happiness after heartbreak, and Finn wanted that too. He admitted to being an asshole since the divorce and confessed he was tired of the animosity. I’m ready to let it go, he said.
I remember holding my breath as he spoke that night. I sat on the couch, stupidly thinking for a few blissful seconds that he wanted to get back together. That the next words out of his mouth would be he still loved me, he forgave me, and he wanted to put our family back together.
Nope. He wanted to date again. To move on, like Poppy had. She’d found love after Jamie had died. She’d found Cole.
He wanted new love too. If I’d had any oxygen left in my lungs, those words would have stolen the rest. The tiny shards of my broken heart had turned to dust, because he’d wanted closure.
Was the letter another piece of his quest for closure?
Finn would never forgive me for having a one-night stand with another man. He’d made it clear that he was looking for the next Mrs. Alcott, not at the former.
My guess was this letter was another mechanism for him to put things to rest. To dissolve everything Finn and Molly.
I didn’t need or want Finn to spell it out for me, so along with last night, I was pretending that letter had never happened. If Finn had something to say, he could be the one to bring it up, not me.
“Will you make me a promise?” Poppy asked.
“I don’t like the sound of this.”
She giggled. “Please say yes if and when Gavin asks you out. Say yes if any guy asks you out. I want you to be happy, Molly-moo.”
“Ooof. Pulling out the big guns.” She must be really worried about me if she was using the nickname she’d given me our freshman year in college. “The last time you whipped out the Molly-moo was when you needed me to take the kids so you and Cole could disappear to go ‘skiing’ in Big Sky and not actually leave your hotel room.”
She laughed. “That was a really good weekend. And I recall getting a Poppy-bear when I was hesitating to eat my first dinner with Cole.”
“Remember that, do you?”
“Maybe Gavin isn’t the guy. But he is a guy. And you haven’t been on a single date since the divorce.”
“I don’t need to date to be happy. I love that you want me to find a relationship again, but I don’t know if I’ve got the energy for one right now.”
“You’re lonely, Molly.”
“I am not—”
“And before you lie to me, remember that I’m not just your best friend, I’m your sister. Divorced from Finn or not, you are my sister, so I notice things. I notice how you work here from open to close on the days when Finn has the kids. I notice how you go to movies alone. I notice that you haven’t gone out for drinks since that night.”
No, I didn’t go to bars anymore. If it was unavoidable, then I drank water or soda. The only time I drank now was at home in my pajamas and ponytail, where there was no risk of a man saying sweet words and making kind gestures to get into my sweatpants.
Until Finn came over.
Maybe Poppy had a point. Maybe my willingness to jump into bed with Finn last night was because I’d been desperate for some companionship. When we’d been talking in the office, he’d all but come to the same conclusion.
“Being lonely three or four days a week is no way to live.”
“You’re right,” I told her. “I do get lonely. But I don’t want to rush back into dating.”
“Then—and I hate saying this—make some friends.”
My face soured. “I have friends.”
“I don’t count. I’m family.”