Letters to Molly: Maysen Jar Series - Book 2

by Devney Perry

  I retreated inside and spent thirty minutes tidying up. Every time I walked by a window, I’d steal a glance outside.

  The kids were smiling. Finn was too. His was wide and bright, full of pride and encouragement as he taught the kids.

  Those smiles weakened me. His put my temper on ice.

  Finn caught me watching from a window and grinned. It was the same grin he’d flashed me on our first date, the one that was carefree and confident and so irritatingly forgivable.

  That grin was the reason I walked over to the kitchen counter to dig my phone out of my purse.

  And ordered pizza—enough for four.

  “They’re out.” I joined Finn on the living room couch, making sure to leave plenty of room between us.

  “Thanks for letting me stay for dinner and to hang out with the kids.”

  “You’re welcome. Thanks for all the work you did in the yard.”

  He leaned forward on the couch, his forearms braced on his thighs. He’d worn jeans tonight, an old pair frayed at the hems. They’d gotten thin from so many washings and were threadbare at the knees. He’d taken off his shoes, lounging in the living room with bare feet like he lived here.

  “I think you should go.”

  “I don’t want to go.”

  “You can’t stay.”

  “Why?”

  I gaped at him. “Because we’re divorced.”

  “Me staying doesn’t change that fact.”

  “Then because it’s foolish.” Ever since Randall had said that word, it had been stuck in my head.

  “Probably.” Finn chuckled and stood from the couch. Then he held out his hand.

  I shied away, sinking deeper into the couch.

  He laughed again, then bent and swiped my hand off my lap so fast, I didn’t even have time to blink before he’d hauled me off the couch.

  “Finn.” I tugged my hand, trying to get free, but he held it tight as he pulled me down the hall and to my bedroom.

  When we were both inside, he let me go and closed the door.

  I went to the end of the bed and sat. “This is not why I invited you to stay for dinner.”

  “I know that.” He sat by my side. “And I’ll go in a few minutes. But we need to talk about the letters.”

  “I don’t want to talk about the letters.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because . . . because you didn’t send them.”

  His frame slumped, his broad shoulder leaning into mine. “I’m sorry, Molly.”

  “Why didn’t you send them?” Above all else, I wanted to know why he’d chosen to hide those beautiful letters instead of giving them to me somewhere along the way.

  “A lot of reasons. I wrote them to you, but they were more for myself, if that makes sense. A way for me to get my thoughts together.”

  That made sense, especially given the actual letters. If he’d sent me that first one after our first date, I would have been creeped out. After one date, it was strange to know you wanted to marry someone. Wasn’t it? Though it didn’t feel strange. It felt . . . like us.

  His explanation made sense for the proposal letter too. He hadn’t said those words to me the night he’d proposed, but I could see why he’d want to have his thoughts down. Why he’d want to use the letter as a dry run before asking someone to become your wife.

  “Are there more?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “How many?”

  He hesitated. “A few. Maybe six or seven. I don’t remember.”

  If the person who’d sent the first two planned to continue, then I guess I’d find out eventually. “Do you know who could be sending them?”

  “I have my suspicions,” he grumbled.

  “Me too.”

  We sat quietly for a few moments, his arm pressed against me. The heat from his skin melded with my own, warming me to the core. That heat was the reason we should have stayed on the couch.

  “You’d better go,” I whispered.

  He nodded but didn’t make a move to stand.

  “Finn.”

  He looked down at me. “I don’t want to go.”

  “You said you’d go in a few minutes.”

  “I lied.”

  I hated how good those two words felt. “What are we doing?”

  Finn raised his other hand and brought it to my face. He cupped my jaw, then slid his palm back until his fingers were threaded through my hair. “Being foolish.”

  Our lips collided as we both moved. Me, up into his arms. Him, backward, taking us higher up in the bed.

  His tongue swept inside my mouth, exploring. My own twisted and tangled with his, tasting all that was Finn until he broke away to trail hot, wet kisses down my neck.

  “I don’t want to go.” His fingers wrapped around the hem of my tee, pulling it up my ribs.

  “Don’t go,” I panted, my own fingers reaching for the button on his jeans. The minute it was free, I slid down the zipper. Finn’s erection throbbed inside his boxer briefs.

  Before I could slip my hand inside, Finn brought my shirt up and over my head, forcing my arms away. With a flick of his wrist, the blue lace bra I’d put on this morning, the one I knew he’d like, was gone.

  Finn sat up enough to strip off his own T-shirt, then smashed our lips together once more.

  My nipples peaked against the firm plane of his chest, the dusting of dark red hair tickling them and sending a rush of desire to my core. And I forgot about the many rational reasons we shouldn’t be doing this.

  We simply stripped each other bare until Finn rolled me onto my back and settled himself between my thighs. My hips cradled his. My arms wound around his waist, holding us together as he eased inside me.

  My eyes fell shut, my breath stolen by the sensation of him filling the voids I’d ignored for so, so long. Here, in this place, everything made sense. Nothing was careless. Here, together, it was like going backward in time. We traveled to the days when those letters were being penned. To when happiness radiated around us.

  To when we got lost in one another, the rest of the world a blur.

  Finn and I were so lost that neither of us noticed the person outside.

  The person leaving another letter in my mailbox.

  - LETTER -

  Molly,

  * * *

  Tonight you told me you wanted to postpone the wedding. That was right before you asked me to leave your apartment so you could have some space. We’re getting married next week and you need space. We’re getting married next week and you want to postpone our wedding because your mother has convinced you that it’s too soon. We’ve been dating for two and a half years, and it’s too soon to get married? What the fuck?

  * * *

  I haven’t said a thing about the wedding. I told you to do whatever you wanted, that all I cared about was that at the end of the day, you’d be my wife. But I’ve changed my mind. Now I want something. I want you to stop listening to the toxic words that spew out of your mother’s mouth. I want you to stop letting her poison seep into our life. I want you to stop doubting me. Doubting us.

  * * *

  It’s our life, Molly. Me and you. And every time you have one of your “sessions” with her, she twists you in knots. She says that I might not love you enough. She says that I may eventually look at other women behind your back. She says that our marriage could hold you back from your own dreams.

  * * *

  It’s all bullshit. I know it. You know it. She knows it.

  She knows you’re the love of my life. She knows you’re the only woman I see and ever will. But that woman fucking hates me. She has from day one. Nothing I do will ever be good enough because she thinks you can do better.

  * * *

  Fuck that. And fuck her.

  * * *

  You get twenty-four hours of space. That’s it. There is no version of my future where you aren’t by my side. So take your space. Sort it out in your head, just like I know you will. You always do. T
hen put it aside. Because we’re getting married next week. And I can’t wait to call you my wife.

  * * *

  I love you.

  * * *

  Yours,

  Finn

  Seven

  Finn

  I opened the door to The Maysen Jar and stepped inside, scanning the room. The second I spotted her face, I spun back for the door.

  Did she see me?

  “Hello, Finn.”

  Yep. Shit.

  I slowly turned around, wishing I had looked through the front windows more closely before coming inside. “Hello, Deb.”

  Molly’s mother gritted her teeth. “Deborah.”

  “Right.” I snapped my fingers. “Deborah.”

  For the first eight years I’d known her, she’d gone by Deb. Then she’d decided a woman of her age shouldn’t go by shortened names. She hated Deb, so I only called her Deb. I took every opportunity to get my digs. She did the same. Deborah even bad-mouthed me to my own children.

  “Leaving already?” she asked.

  More like trying to escape. “Forgot my wallet in the truck.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I’m sure my daughter and your sister rarely make you pay.”

  “Yes, but I do like to support the business.”

  Deborah gestured to the seat across from her, silently commanding me to sit. She looked like she always did, stiff and snobby in her black pantsuit. I’d never seen the woman in jeans. She had the same hair as Molly, but while her daughter let those dark curls run wild, Deb kept hers chopped short. It was just long enough to pull up into her fancy twists.

  Her appearance screamed I’m better, smarter and richer than you’ll ever be.

  On a different day, I’d walk away from my former mother-in-law without another word. She could shove that chair up her ass for all I cared. But today, I was playing nice.

  It had been a week since the latest letter had shown up in Molly’s mailbox, the one I’d written in a moment of extreme frustration before the wedding. In that week, Molly had hardly spoken to me. If I pissed off Deb, no way would Molly be willing to talk today.

  Her silence was killing me.

  I’d apologized, but the damage had been done. Molly had pulled away over the last week. She’d gone quiet. Something I knew meant she was hurt.

  I’d stayed away, giving her some space. I hadn’t been to the house to work on the yard. I’d had the kids over the weekend and a few days this week. The nights when they were at home with her, I’d scheduled evening meetings with Bridget to review designs so I wouldn’t be tempted to go over to Molly’s.

  But it was the weekend again and I wanted to work on the yard, which would be a hell of a lot easier if Molly wasn’t dodging eye contact and running away from me.

  So here I was, taking a seat across from my ex-mother-in-law to make sure I didn’t further piss off my ex-wife.

  “How are you today?” I asked Deb.

  “I’m well. I was just down to see Molly. She’s been so busy.”

  I squirmed in my chair as her eyes looked me up and down. There was no way Molly had told Deb about us, was there? As far as I knew, Molly hadn’t told anyone about our affair. The last person who would understand or have anything decent to say about it was her mother.

  “Molly likes to be busy. She thrives on it.” I studied Deb’s reaction. If she did know about the affair, she wasn’t giving it away.

  “It’s not mentally healthy to be so stressed.”

  Ahh. The busy comment wasn’t about the affair. It was about Dr. Deborah Todd’s constant need to pick apart every one of Molly’s emotions.

  In her mind, it wasn’t right to have the normal gamut of emotions that came with life. Whenever Molly was worried or sad or angry, they’d have a session so Deborah could help delve into the root cause and diagnose a cure. If Molly wasn’t in a constant state of tranquility, then there was something wrong with her.

  “I don’t think Molly is stressed.” As if she’d heard my cue, Molly came out of the kitchen with a wide smile on her face. “See?”

  Deb looked at her daughter but didn’t seem to see the smile. “She looks tired.”

  “Oh-kay,” I drawled. There was no point arguing with Deb. The woman would never concede a point. “Well, I’m going to go and say hello.”

  I stood from the chair and made it three steps away from the table when she stopped me again.

  “Finn, I told Molly, but I’m telling you as well. You both need to watch Kali closely.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I turned. “What?”

  “I’m concerned about Kali. The last three times I’ve seen her, she’s been quiet and withdrawn. I think you and Molly need to consider putting her in counseling. I’m worried this behavior is a sign she may be depressed. The last thing we want is her acting out and doing something drastic as a call for help.”

  My hands balled into fists. “Kali is happy and healthy. There is nothing wrong with her.”

  “She’s troubled.”

  “She’s not troubled. She’s a ten-year-old girl. Her moods swing all over the place depending on what’s happening with her friends or her teachers or her brother. But she’s a happy and healthy kid. And I am telling you right now, Deb. If you say anything different to her, if you plant these ideas in her head that she’s unwell, you’ll never see my daughter again. Are we clear?”

  My chest heaved as Deb’s jaw fell open. Dr. Deborah could diagnose her own daughter all she wanted but my child was off limits. I wouldn’t have her twisting up Kali like she did with Molly.

  “I’m simply looking out for Kali.” She huffed.

  “No, you’re pulling your psychobabble bullshit. It stops. Now.”

  Deb’s eyes widened as she stood. “I will not be threatened.”

  “This isn’t a threat.” I stepped closer, then I spoke loud and clear so there was no mistaking my position. “You will not talk to Kali about counseling. You will not talk to Kali about her moods. You will not talk to Kali about anything other than what Kali wants to talk about. If I find out otherwise, you won’t see her again.”

  “Hey,” Molly hissed, rushing over to my side. “What’s going on? You two are making a scene.”

  “Finn is threat—”

  “It’s nothing,” I barked. “Your mom and I were just coming to an understanding.”

  Molly looked back and forth between us. “Mom, is this about Kali? Did you tell Finn? I told you. She’s. Fine.”

  “I disagree.”

  “She’s—” Molly sucked in a calming breath. “You know what? I appreciate your concern, and I’ll keep an eye out. We both will. Then we’ll decide what’s best for our daughter.”

  I opened my mouth to take them both on but stopped as Molly’s words sunk in. Had she really just taken my side? Against her mom? I did my best to keep my expression neutral but it was a battle. I couldn’t remember a time when Molly had taken my side in a battle of Finn versus Deb.

  “In my professional opinion, you’re making a mistake,” she said.

  Molly nodded. “So noted.”

  Deb frowned at Molly, waiting for a different response. When she didn’t get one, she spun around and collected her purse from the table. “I’ve got to be going. We’ll discuss this again at a later date, Molly.”

  I scoffed. “Just as long as you don’t discuss it with Kali.”

  Molly shot me a look that said shut up, then she escorted Deb to the door. As her mom walked outside along the front windows, Molly scowled at me.

  “What?” I held up my hands.

  “Do you always have to argue with my mother?”

  “Hey, I didn’t start that.”

  She shook her head. “You never do. Mom is always the antagonist, isn’t that right?”

  “That’s not—you know what? I’m not having this fight again. I came down here to talk to you.”

  “About?”

  “The letter.”

  She shook her h
ead, walking away from the door and through the restaurant to the counter. I followed, saying nothing as she led me into the kitchen.

  “Hi.” Poppy smiled from her side of the table as she mixed something in a large silver bowl. “Want some lunch?”

  “Hi. I, uh . . . maybe in a minute.” Molly was marching toward the office, so I held up a finger to Poppy and hurried to catch up.

  Molly was waiting in the center of the room when I got there. She stayed tight-lipped until I closed the door.

  “I’m sorry about the letter.”

  “It’s fine.” She shrugged. “It took me by surprise. But it’s fine.”

  “You’re not fine. You’re pissed at me.”

  “Because you came into my workplace and picked a fight with my mother. Can’t you just avoid her?”

  I gritted my teeth. “I didn’t pick a fight with your mother. I was trying to be civil but she crossed the line. If you want to swallow the shit advice she feeds you, that’s your choice. But when it comes to Kali and Max, I won’t have it.”

  “She gets paid a lot of money to give that ‘shit advice.’”

  My blood pressure ticked up a notch. I fucking hated air quotes. And this fight. We’d had it so many times but never come out on the same side. Molly always stood on her mother’s, which left me standing alone, wondering how a woman with so much confidence and intelligence could let someone manipulate her.

  “Tell me honestly. Do you think Kali is depressed?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Well, your mom says Kali has been quiet and withdrawn. All the signs, she says, point to a depressed kid on the verge of acting out and making drastic calls for help.”

  Molly blew out a long breath. “Mom is overreacting. The last few times we went to see Mom, it was at her office. Kali gets bored there, so she plays a game on my phone. She got into it and shut out the rest of the world.”