Maysen Jar Box Set

by Devney Perry

  “Let’s start with Cole,” she said. “Then we can evolve to night-vision goggles and watch in shifts.”

  “Deal.”

  Molly stood and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. “Sorry to pull you from work.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  She gave me a skeptical look. “Finn. It’s summer. I know how busy you are. I’m good. I appreciate you coming over so we could talk. But you don’t need to stay. And while the kids are gone, you can forget my yard.”

  Was she kicking me out? “You don’t want me over here?”

  “No, it’s not that. But you’ve been here a lot. I’m sure you’re swamped.”

  “I am.”

  “Then take the time. Get caught up when you don’t have to do extra laundry or cook or run the kids around.”

  “I don’t know how you do it all,” I admitted. “How you work at the restaurant and manage to keep everything so clean.” I stood up and leaned against the counter. “My place is a wreck most of the time, and I feel like laundry piles up while I’m asleep.”

  She giggled. “Welcome to the life of a mom.”

  “I don’t say it enough. Thanks for all you do. I know you do most of the laundry for the kids so I don’t have to. I know you make sure they’ve got their stuff for school. I appreciate it.”

  “Thanks.” Her cheeks flushed before she shrugged it off. “They’re my kids.”

  It was more than that. Even after the divorce, when I’d been an asshole to her, she’d always done her best so I wouldn’t struggle on the nights when I had the kids alone. It had taken me a lot of years to develop a better routine. To figure out how to do dinnertime, bath time and bedtime without one or both kids having a meltdown. Or without wanting to pull my hair out.

  Everything suffered for a while, my business and sanity mostly. For years, it had been a shit show. But I’d gained respect for Molly. I’d always thought things were easier for her because she’d been staying at home while I worked. She’d never complained.

  I had no idea how hard it was.

  “I took you for granted.”

  She blinked up at me. “What?”

  “You. I took you for granted. I’m sorry for that.”

  “Oh, um . . . thank you.”

  “I should have said it sooner.”

  She dropped her gaze to her water glass, blinking quickly.

  My phone rang in my pocket, breaking the moment. There was more to talk about with Molly. I still needed to get to the bottom of why she didn’t come to Alcott and my house. If she’d resented me when she’d stayed at home with the kids.

  But she was right. I was fucking busy and needed to get back to work.

  “I’m planning on coming over tonight to work on the yard.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I want to,” I said. “I want to spend time with the kids before they leave. And you.”

  She nodded, following me to the door. I waved at her as I opened it, but she stopped me. “Finn?”

  “Yeah?” I turned over my shoulder.

  “Do you think we would have made it if Jamie hadn’t been killed?”

  My shoulders fell. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. Do you?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. “But it doesn’t matter now.”

  “No, I guess not.”

  We were broken.

  Because everything had changed.

  Chapter Nine

  Molly

  “So, are you still . . .” Randall’s eyebrows shot up as he trailed off.

  “Being foolish?” I asked and he nodded. The kids were in Alaska and Finn hadn’t spent a night in his own bed all week. “Yes.”

  His frown made me feel worse than the time I’d gotten a speeding ticket in high school with my mom sitting in the passenger seat.

  Randall was as close to a grandparent as I’d ever had. Mom’s parents lived on the East Coast, both too old to travel. I hadn’t been close to them as a child and wasn’t as an adult. They’d never even met my kids.

  My father’s parents had lived in Bozeman, but they’d both passed when I was young. My father was twelve years older than my mother. In a lot of ways, he’d been more like a grandparent than a father. He’d spoiled me with treats behind her back. He’d let me stay up past my bedtime when she was away. I couldn’t remember a time when he’d punished me. But we weren’t close either. He was a retired professor at Montana State. He’d always been more interested in spending time with his grad students than with his daughter.

  I think Mom had wanted a child and had given Dad an ultimatum. He never argued with Mom. He did what she wanted then disappeared to his library before she could ask for something else.

  I saw him every couple of months when Mom would force him to visit the kids, but I’d given up on building a close father-daughter relationship with him years ago. I didn’t interest Dad, and we didn’t have anything in common.

  It made me wonder how life would have been if Randall had been a parent. Or my parent. Maybe I would have had someone’s shoulder to cry on during the divorce. Instead, I’d kept my tears hidden, not wanting to burden Poppy with them. She’d been swamped trying to get the restaurant open, and given how close she was to both Finn and me, both of us had fought hard not to make her choose a side.

  Mom had smiled like a Cheshire cat when I’d told her about our separation, so I didn’t share my tears with her either.

  Maybe if I’d had a Randall, I wouldn’t have made such a horrible mistake. I wouldn’t have slept with that other man.

  “Be careful,” Randall warned.

  “I am.”

  It was nice to have his warning. And I was being careful. Even though this affair had come out of nowhere, I was keeping up my guard. I didn’t need Finn’s affections to bolster my confidence anymore. I could end this at any time.

  I could end it today if I wanted.

  I didn’t want to, but I could.

  “What’s going on?” Jimmy asked, his cheeks puffing out with a bite of cornbread and chili.

  “None of your damn business,” Randall muttered before I could dodge the question.

  “Fine.” Jimmy finished chewing and swallowed. “You two always have your inside jokes and hushed conversations. It’s damn annoying. And kind of rude. But it gives me and Poppy something to talk about behind your backs.”

  “What?” My eyes bulged, a smile tugging at my lips. “You do not.”

  He nodded. “We do. We talk about you two all the time. How you two can’t keep up with our jokes. That’s probably what you’re talking about. We figured you’ve been explaining them to Randall here for years.”

  Randall’s face turned magenta as he scowled.

  Jimmy met my eyes, his own twinkling as he fought a smile by shoving another bite of chili in his mouth. He didn’t care a bit if Randall and I had our own language. We’d had it for years. He and Poppy had their own too. But any excuse to rile up Randall and Jimmy would hit those buttons faster than a kid playing whack-a-mole.

  “Your jokes are so damn simple, Brady could understand them,” Randall snapped.

  “Brady might only be one, but he’s brilliant. Sure, he could understand them. He’s my great-grandson, so he’s got superior genes.”

  Randall ripped his cap off his knee and tugged it on his head. It was the end of June and plenty warm outside, but not a day went by when he didn’t wear that cap. With it secured and his cane in hand, he stood from his stool.

  “Hey.” Jimmy had just shoved another bite in his mouth and with his shout, little crumbs went spraying. “Where are you going?”

  “Find your own ride home. Maybe Brady can drive you on his plastic tractor.”

  I giggled, quickly covering my mouth with my hand. My laughing would only make it worse.

  “Get back here,” Jimmy ordered. “Poppy made fresh apple pie this morning and I’m not missing it.”

  “I’ll leave if I damn well want. And you’re not gettin
g rides from me anymore.”

  In six years, that was the 729th time he’d made that threat. Poppy and I had a running tally beneath the cash register. I bent down, slowly grabbing the pencil on the notepad and crossing out the old number to add in the new.

  Poppy poked her head through the swinging door from the kitchen. “What’s going on out here?”

  “I’m leaving,” Randall barked, shuffling closer toward the door. “I don’t need to deal with this harassment every day.”

  “Oh, okay. Bye.” She smiled at Jimmy. “I was just experimenting with the chocolate mousse. I made a raspberry compote to spoon on top. Want to try one?”

  Randall’s body stilled, his ears perking up. He didn’t just have a sweet tooth. Every bone in his body was addicted to sugar. Mention chocolate and the man practically vibrated.

  “I’ll have one,” I told Poppy. “If there’s any extra.”

  “I just made a small batch. Only four jars until I know that people like the recipe.”

  “What are you waiting for?” Randall spun back around, his sight set on his stool. “Get those jars.”

  Poppy disappeared into the kitchen, I went to get four spoons, and Jimmy polished off his lunch while we waited for the mousse. Randall was on his stool, today’s bickering forgotten as quickly as it had started.

  Four chocolate mousses later, we all agreed that Poppy’s raspberry concoction would be a hit.

  “I think I’ll go whip up some more before I forget what I did. Then we can freeze it and have it for the anniversary celebration next week.”

  “Want some company in the kitchen?”

  “Sure. Dora just clocked in so she can take over out here.”

  We left Randall and Jimmy at their stools and went into the back. Dora was at the sink, washing her hands to begin her shift. I said hello, then chatted with her about her classes before she left Poppy and me alone in the kitchen.

  “Any more letters?” Poppy asked, measuring sugar into a bowl.

  “Nope. Nothing.” I hadn’t told her much about the letter Finn had written for Jamie’s funeral. I’d simply left it that I’d received another letter and it had made Finn and I talk about some things.

  “And you still have no idea who’s sending them?”

  “It’s not you.”

  “It’s not me,” she promised.

  “It’s not your parents. Do you think it could be Cole?”

  She shook her head. “I asked him about it when you guys first asked me. He was just as confused as I was.”

  “Damn. Then I’m at a loss.”

  “What about Kali?”

  I laughed. “Finn thought it could be her too. But I don’t know. The handwriting on the envelope isn’t hers. It looks too adult.”

  “And you’re sure it isn’t Finn?”

  “Finn?” I hadn’t even thought to question it. He’d told me it wasn’t him, and I’d believed him. “He was so shocked when I told him about the first two, I don’t think he could have been making it up.”

  “I can’t believe he kept them all this time.”

  I sighed. “Me too. I wish . . . I wish he had sent me those letters after he wrote them. They’ve been good for us.”

  “How so?”

  “They’ve made us talk through some old arguments. Relive some good moments. I think it’s healed a lot of the wounds we inflicted on one another. That and—” The sex.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d almost blurted out that Finn and I were sleeping together. Keeping secrets from Poppy was completely foreign to me. I hadn’t kept something like this from her during our entire relationship, and I couldn’t think of a time when she wasn’t the first person, besides Finn, I ran to with good news. The same was true with the bad.

  Was it good news or bad news that Finn and I were having sex daily?

  Good news. It had to be good news. The way Finn made me feel, the way his hands made my body come alive couldn’t be bad.

  “That and, what?” she asked, taking a huge box of raspberries out of the fridge.

  “I love that you do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “You always start something new with a sample. You get so worried that it won’t be good. But deep down, you already know it’s going to be amazing because you’ve already bought the ingredients in bulk.”

  She shrugged, but a smile ghosted her lips. “We could have used the raspberries in the salads. And don’t change the subject. We were talking about you and Finn.”

  We’re sleeping together. The words were right there, ready to spill onto the table next to the cartons of fruit.

  “I, uh, me and Finn.” My throat closed. I wanted to tell her so badly, but would it do her harm? When Jamie was alive, I would have told Poppy without a moment’s hesitation. But I’d seen her broken and at her lowest. It was hard not to want to protect her, even though she’d built herself up.

  Maybe this would help her understand and believe that she wasn’t the reason we’d divorced. Maybe telling her about Finn would actually ease some of the doubts in her mind.

  Poppy looked at me, waiting.

  “It’s more than just the letters. We’ve been . . . seeing each other.”

  Her eyebrows came together. “Like dating?”

  “No, not really. He’s been coming over and we’ve been, uh, sleeping together.”

  A mixture of emotions flashed across her face. Excitement. Hope. Fear. “W-what does this mean? Are you getting back together?”

  “No,” I said immediately. “No. I don’t want you to get your hopes up, because we are absolutely not getting back together.”

  “How did this happen?” She blinked twice. “Was it the letters?”

  “Yes and no. Remember the night he mowed my lawn? He stayed to watch a movie with me and the kids. We had a lot of wine. One thing led to another and we had sex.”

  “It’s been weeks. And you didn’t tell me?”

  I winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to say. I was so surprised. I wasn’t sure what was happening. Honestly, I still don’t.”

  “So you’re having sex but not getting back together?”

  “Right.” I gave her a definite nod. “We are not getting back together.”

  “Are you going to keep sleeping together?” she asked, coming around my side of the table, the raspberries forgotten.

  “I guess? I don’t know that either. I mean, it’s got to end at some point. Right?”

  “Molly, what are you doing?”

  “I don’t know. It’s Finn.”

  “You’re going to get your heart broken again.”

  “Not this time. It’s different now.”

  “How?”

  “I’m not in love with Finn.”

  She flinched. “Oh.”

  And that was why I’d kept this to myself. Poppy believed I was in love with Finn. That he was in love with me. Yes, there was love there. I loved him as the father of my children. I loved him as my first love. But I wasn’t in love with Finn. Not anymore.

  I wasn’t sure if my heart was capable of being in love with anyone again.

  “Okay,” she finally said.

  I was glad the secret was out in the open, but I didn’t like the judgment on her face. She wouldn’t come out and say it like Randall. She wasn’t a blunt person. But I knew her well and I knew that stern look. She thought this affair was foolish too.

  She wasn’t wrong.

  The door to the kitchen swung open and Cole walked inside.

  Poppy’s face lit up like twinkle lights on a black night, her irritation with Finn and me forgotten. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

  “Hoping to snag a late lunch.” Cole walked straight to his wife for a long kiss on the mouth.

  He was wearing his signature jeans and black Bozeman Police Department polo. His holstered gun and shiny badge were clipped on his leather belt. His hair was pushed back away from his forehead by the aviator sunglasses he was never without.

  Cole
Goodman had hot cop perfected. With those light-green eyes and a body toned to steel, he was the detective every woman wanted on the Bozeman Police Department’s annual calendar. However, much to the female population’s disappointment, they’d been doing local scenery, cutting themselves short on fundraising opportunities.

  I loved him for Poppy. She was his life, along with their kids, and I hoped he used his handcuffs on her regularly.

  “Get a room,” I teased when their kiss dragged on.

  Cole just grinned against Poppy’s mouth. When they eventually broke apart, he threw an arm around her shoulders and surveyed the table. “What are you making?”

  “Raspberry compote for the chocolate mousse. I was experimenting earlier, and it turned out all right.”

  “More than all right.” I rolled my eyes at her modesty. “It’s amazing. So good it made the menu for the anniversary celebration.”

  “Have any more?”

  She frowned. “No, I only made four. If I had known you were coming, I would have saved mine for you.”

  “It’s okay, beautiful. It’s never a hardship eating the apple pie.”

  “What do you want for lunch?”

  He shrugged, letting her go. “Surprise me.”

  Poppy grinned and went to the fridge, pulling out a tomato, lettuce and some leftover bacon. Then she grabbed some sourdough from the pantry shelf.

  “Had I known you’d be willing to make one of your famous BLTs, I would have skipped the mousse too,” I said.

  Her BLTs were my favorite. Poppy wasn’t satisfied with mayonnaise on the sandwich. She’d mix in a bunch of spices that took the simple sandwich to the next level. But like a lot of her recipes, the spice mixture was impromptu. It was never the same, though always delicious.

  “Want one?” she asked.

  I was full, but these sandwiches were not to miss. “Would you go halvsies?”

  Before she could answer, the door swung open again.

  My heart skipped as Finn walked inside. With his natural swagger and sexy grin, which let a few of his straight white teeth show, the man’s presence had always sent zings through my body.

  “Hey, guys.” He waved and walked over to shake Cole’s hand. “What’s going on?”