by Devney Perry
My eyes dropped to his ass. Habit, I guessed. It still looked as good as it had when we’d been married. Finn hadn’t let age or sitting behind a desk compromise his muscled physique.
I was still staring when he stood and turned, his eyes finding mine through the kitchen window. I dropped my chin, hoping that by the time he walked inside the blush in my cheeks would be gone.
Finn came inside and straight to the kitchen. “Did Max save me anything but the crusts?”
“I guarded a few slices for you,” I said as I got him a glass of water.
“Thanks.” He washed his hands, then we both sat at the table, him on one side of a corner, me on the other. The silence stretched for a few awkward moments. “So, uh, how is work?”
“Good.” I plucked at a hair tie on my wrist. “It’s been busy. We’re already starting to see the summer tourists.”
I had the best job in all of Bozeman, working with my best friend, Poppy, at the restaurant she’d started nearly six years ago.
The Maysen Jar had always been her dream. When her husband Jamie had died in a tragic shooting ten years ago, she’d lost her footing. But that restaurant had helped her regain her balance. And not long afterward, she’d opened her heart to a new love. She’d married Cole Goodman, a man who lived up to his name.
Maybe it was time for me to find love again. Since the divorce, I’d focused on my career and the kids. But as they got older, as work got easier, I had more and more lonely moments.
Gavin had asked me out on two different occasions. Timing hadn’t worked out for either because I’d already had plans. Maybe it was time to stop living this single life and take a risk.
Maybe when I purchased the Jeep’s replacement down the road in seven or eight years, I’d check a different marital status box on the application.
Though the idea of dating anyone made me queasy.
Finn didn’t have that problem. He’d moved on and had been dating on and off for years. He’d been with his most recent girlfriend for about a year. Brenna. I didn’t know much about her, because I’d made it a point to know little about his relationships. I asked questions to be civil, these women were spending time with my children after all, but nothing beyond the surface.
With Brenna, things were getting serious. Whenever Finn didn’t have the kids, she was attached to his side. She was even friends with Poppy. There was a picture hanging in the restaurant’s office of her and Finn playing board games at Poppy and Cole’s house.
When Poppy had asked me if I’d minded that photo, I’d lied and told her no. It was her restaurant. Finn was her brother. How she chose to decorate her office was her choice.
And when that photo had gone up six months ago, I’d started doing my office work out of the office.
I’d accepted divorced life. I had a way to go to accept Finn’s love life.
“What’s Brenna up to tonight?” If Finn was mowing my lawn, she must have had plans.
He swallowed his bite of pizza, chasing it down with some water. “I don’t know. We broke up last weekend.”
“Oh.” That was surprising. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. “Sorry.”
Finn shrugged. “Don’t be.”
I almost asked Finn how he was feeling about it, but discussing his feelings had been nearly impossible when we’d been married, let alone divorced.
Instead, I asked, “How were the kids?” He’d had them for the past three days.
“Good.” He grinned as he chewed. “They’re always good. Max can’t wait for school to be out next week. Kali doesn’t want it to end.”
I smiled. “Max just wants to do basketball camp. Kali doesn’t want to go the whole summer without seeing her friends.”
“She asked me if we could figure out a way for her to take swimming lessons with Vanessa.”
“Okay. I’ll call Vanessa’s mom and get schedule information. We’ll see if we can fit it in between all their camps.” Summers were always chaotic, running the kids from one summer camp to the next while still trying to work.
“Just let me know what I can do to help coordinate.” Finn tossed his uneaten crust onto his plate. Like Max, he didn’t eat the crust unless he was on the verge of starvation.
I, on the other hand, never turned down the carbs. I held out my hand, palm up. He chuckled and slid his plate over so I could take the crust. I ate it while he ate another piece of pizza.
“More?” He held up another crust.
I shook my head. “I’m full. Thanks again for doing the lawn.” It would save me from the chore this weekend and give me more time to take the kids out exploring in our new Jeep.
“No problem. What are you guys doing this weekend?”
“Nothing much. I was thinking of planning something fun to do with the kids. Maybe take them up to Hyalite Lake or something. You?”
He sighed. “I’ll probably just catch up at work. I’m behind on a couple of bids.”
No surprise there. Finn worked constantly when the kids were with me.
“Mom,” Max hollered from upstairs. “Can we watch a movie?”
“Sure,” I called back.
I stood from the table and cleared Finn’s plate as footsteps pounded down the wooden stairs and the kids came running into the kitchen.
Max frowned when he saw the empty pizza box on the table. “Can we make popcorn?”
I laughed, walking toward the pantry. “Yes, we can have popcorn.”
“Dad, do you want to stay and watch with us?” Kali asked.
My hand froze on the doorknob as I waited for his answer. She probably felt bad now that he was single again. No doubt he’d told the kids about his breakup with Brenna.
Did I want Finn to stay? Not really. He’d had the kids for three days and it was my turn. But for their sake, I’d never make him leave.
Finn and I made it a point to plan certain activities for the four of us. We’d have the occasional dinner or take the kids on a special adventure like skiing or hiking. It was important to us both that the kids saw us getting along.
But I spent days preparing for those times. I braced myself for how hard it would be to pretend we were a whole family, even for only a few hours.
“Maybe,” Finn answered Kali. “I need to talk to your mom for a minute.”
“You guys go pick the movie,” I told the kids. “Together, please. No fighting.”
When they were out of the room, I grabbed the popcorn from the pantry and put it in the microwave.
“Would you mind if I stayed?” he asked.
“Not at all.” It wasn’t a complete lie. After three glasses of wine, I wouldn’t care a bit that he was on the opposite end of the couch.
The popcorn began popping and I went to my wine rack, pulling out a favorite red.
“I’ll do it.” Finn stepped closer and I dodged out of the way so we wouldn’t bump into one another.
We didn’t touch. There were no hugs or kisses on the cheek. We smiled. We waved. But we never touched.
I slid the bottle across the counter and took out the corkscrew from a drawer. While he opened the bottle, I found glasses. He poured for us both. I shook the popcorn into a bowl, and the two of us walked into the living room, the one we used to share, to watch a movie with our kids on my leather sectional.
This was for them.
The key to a successful divorce, I’d found, was establishing boundaries. Like touching Finn, there were things I didn’t allow myself to do.
I refused to enjoy the sound of Finn’s laugh. I didn’t spare him a glance when Kali snuggled into his side, his arm curling around her tight. I didn’t pay any attention to his blue eyes as they tracked me on my repeated trips into the kitchen to refill my wine glass.
No, I watched the movie on my TV from my couch in my living room. I focused on drinking my wine.
Boundaries, that was the key. And an armored tank wasn’t getting across mine.
The alarm on my phone was always loud and shrill at five thirty
in the morning. Today it seemed exponentially worse. I shot up from bed, sitting so straight the blankets and sheet went flying.
“Ugh.” My stomach rolled. My head was splitting in two, and my naked skin felt sticky.
I’d had way too much wi—
Why the hell am I naked? I didn’t sleep naked. Ever.
Not since . . .
I jumped from the bed, my eyes wide as they landed on the long, muscular arm curved around one of my white down pillows. A head of tousled red hair was resting on another. A leg, dusted with that same hair, was tucked outside a sheet.
“Oh my God,” I gasped as it all came rushing back. The movie. Finn carrying the kids to bed. Standing too close in the hallway. The simple brush of our hands.
The kiss.
The sex.
No. No no no no no.
So much for my boundaries.
Damn you, wine.
- LETTER -
Darling Molly,
* * *
This is why people don’t write letters anymore. I feel like a douche. But here I am, in all my douche glory, writing you a letter I am never going to send.
* * *
I’m glad my sister was too into Jamie to notice us. I’m glad you like burgers with extra cheese and extra bacon. I’m glad you gave me your phone number.
* * *
I’m not sorry I’ve already called you twice just to hear your voice.
* * *
So since you’re never going to read this, I guess it’s safe to tell you I had the best date of my life with you tonight. I don’t know if you’d call it a date. But I’m calling it a date.
* * *
Watch out, Molly Todd. I just might have to marry you.
* * *
Yours,
Finn
Two
Molly
I was scrambling around the side of the bed, racing for the bathroom, when my feet got tangled in something on the floor. My knees crashed onto the rug. My hair flew into my face as my arms shot out to catch my fall.
“Sonofabitch,” I whispered, pushing the hair out of my face to see what had tripped me.
Panties. My feet were tangled in the panties I’d pulled on yesterday morning and Finn had ripped off last night.
I kicked my feet free, then scooped up the gray cotton briefs, balling them up in a fist. If Finn woke up before I made it to the bathroom, there was no way I wanted him inspecting my comfortable, sexless underwear. With them hidden, I hurried—more carefully this time—for the bathroom, collecting discarded clothing as I shuffled along.
At the door, I risked a glance over my shoulder. Finn was still asleep. No surprise. The man had slept like the dead when we’d been together. When the kids were newborns, I’d have to kick him repeatedly to rouse him for his feedings.
I shut the door to the bathroom, leaned back against the white paneled wood and breathed a sigh.
I slept with Finn.
This was a disaster. What the damn hell had I been thinking? Finn and I had spent years getting to a place of friendship. I was happily single, I bought my own car, and I ran my own life. I’d even considered dating again. Why? Why am I so stupid?
I was shaking when I pushed off the door. I threw my clothes in the hamper, then turned on the shower. I spent a few extra seconds breathing in the steam and my rosemary and mint shampoo. Neither helped calm my trembling.
“So stupid,” I told the spray. “I’m not doing this again.”
I wasn’t getting mixed up in Finn. I wasn’t a casual sex woman and certainly not with the man who’d once been my entire world. What had happened to my boundaries? They were there for a good goddamn reason.
When Finn and I had broken up, it had destroyed me.
“I’m not doing this again.”
No. No, I wasn’t. With a sure nod, I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. I dried my body with angry strokes then secured the towel around my chest. I twisted up my hair and marched out of the bathroom.
“Finn, get up.” I shook his shoulder, then whipped the comforter off his back.
“Huh?” He sat up, dazed, blinking. Then he dropped his head back into the pillow. “Five more minutes.”
“Finn,” I snapped, pulling the comforter down even farther before poking his side. “Get up and get out. You need to leave before the kids wake up.”
I was going to forget about last night the second the door closed behind him. The kids would never be the wiser.
They’d had a hard time with the divorce, Kali especially. It had taken her years to understand that her parents lived separate lives and were never getting back together. She didn’t need to see her father naked in her mother’s bed.
“Finn.” I poked him again. God, why was he such a deep sleeper? “Wake up.”
“Molly, five more minutes.” He lifted his sleepy eyes and blinked. Then they widened. “Fuck.”
He leapt out of bed, hissing a string of curses as he scanned the floor for his clothes. When he found his jeans, he dove for them so fast he’d have rug burns on his knees.
I rolled my eyes. I’d had a similar reaction, but he’d been asleep. He could have at least tried to hide his mortification from me.
“What happened?” he asked as he zipped up his fly.
I glared at his flat stomach. Those abs were to blame for this mess. They’d always been my weakness. Last night, I’d touched one of the six and, well . . . here we were. Divorced men in their late thirties weren’t supposed to have that V along their hipbones. How was that fair?
Finn’s hair was a mess thanks to my fingers. The matching scruff on his jaw was no less sexy than his half-naked body. He searched the floor for his shirt, going to the bed and throwing up the covers. He ducked down to see where it had gone.
“Where’s my shirt?” He found it under the bed before I could help him search, then he put it on faster than a human being had ever donned a piece of cotton.
I ignored the sting of that too, along with the fact that he wouldn’t look me in the face.
He picked up his watch from the floor and took a step for the door, but then stopped to look back. “Molly—”
“You need to go.”
He still wouldn’t look at me. “We should—”
“Go, Finn. I don’t want the kids to see you here.”
He sighed, then nodded and walked to the door. His bare feet made no noise as he snuck out of the house. The sun was beginning to shine through my bedroom window.
The front door opened and clicked shut. Thankfully, my bedroom was on the main floor and the kids were upstairs. Then I waited, listening for his truck to start up and rumble down the road. When it was silent again, I sank down on the edge of my bed.
He was gone. We weren’t going to talk about last night. We weren’t going to discuss the monumental mistake of sex with an ex-spouse. We were going to pretend it had never happened.
Once my disheveled bed was put to rights, I’d take a Magic Eraser to last night’s memory and scrub with fury. Those damn things worked on everything. Surely one would work on my brain.
But instead of ripping the sheets from the mattress, I sat frozen, staring at the pillows.
I still hadn’t gotten rid of Finn’s pillow. He’d ordered it online because it was supposed to be good for stomach sleepers. I thought it was too firm and too thin, but I hadn’t been able to toss it out. I washed its case weekly. I fluffed it each morning.
It had been there for him to sleep on last night.
When Finn had moved out, he’d taken my side-sleeper pillow by mistake. It had been one of the mix-ups in the his and hers shuffle. Instead of mentioning it and making a swap, I’d stayed quiet. I’d kept his pillow and bought a new one for myself.
Stupid pillow. I snagged it and threw it on the floor. Stupid Molly.
How could I have brought that man back into this room? Prior to last night, his memory had finally faded, but now I’d have to start the forgetting process all over again. I
’d have to retrain myself that sleeping alone was better than sleeping with company because you got more leg room. I’d have to un-remember how his hands felt on my skin and the weight of his hips between my thighs. Or how it felt to tangle my legs with his before drifting off to sleep, draped over his back.
Delete. Delete. Delete. What I wouldn’t give for a mental backspace button.
It was yet another mistake to survive.
Starting with making the bed.
I picked up Finn’s pillow and straightened the twisted sheets. Laundry would have to wait until the weekend, meaning I’d have to live with his manly scent for one more night. Maybe I’d sleep on the couch until I could do the wash. I would have to vacuum too. A few blades of grass had hitchhiked into my room on his jeans.
This weekend, I’d clean it all away.
But first, I had to get through my Friday.
I finished the bed and hurried through my morning routine, getting dressed in a pair of jeans and burgundy tennis shoes. Then I chose a fitted T-shirt, one of many from my closet. Today’s was white. The restaurant’s emblem was printed on the chest pocket.
I took the time to put on a full face of makeup. I tamed my curls, brushing them out before spraying a leave-in conditioner that would keep the frizz at bay. With three hair ties on my wrist, I went upstairs to get the kids ready for school.
The familiarity of the morning routine eased most of my nerves and irritation. There wasn’t much headspace to fret about Finn when I was shouting at Max to brush his teeth and at Kali to remember her library book as I made them breakfast. We all ate. We all put our dishes away. And we all marched outside to the Jeep.
