by Devney Perry
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 getting 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?”
“Just came down for lunch. You?”
“Same.”
“I was just making BLTs,” Poppy told him. “Want one?”
He rubbed his hands together, practically drooling. “Hell, yeah. I’m starving. I missed breakfast today.”
I dropped my gaze to my feet, hoping to hide my flushed cheeks. With the kids gone, he didn’t have to rush out of the house before dawn, so I’d been making him breakfast every morning. I’d been just about to crack some eggs this morning when he’d come into the kitchen and kissed my neck. That kiss had led to another, then another, until we were horizontal on the kitchen floor, Finn’s mouth between my legs.
Technically, he’d had me for breakfast.
And coffee. I was a generous hostess. I’d sent him on his way with a travel mug of coffee after he’d filled me with his own release.
“Hey.” Finn came to stand on my side of the table.
The magnetic pull was there, the urge to stand close enough that our arms would touch. But we fought it, standing stiffly, twelve inches apart to maintain distance. His fresh, outdoorsy scent was even more appealing than Poppy’s cooking. It was impossible not to stare a moment too long at his bright-blue eyes as they glinted with mischief.
He was definitely thinking about his breakfast.
My cheeks hurt as I forced myself not to smile.
“What are you guys up to tonight?” Cole asked.
“Nothing,” I answered too fast.
“Probably having sex,” Poppy muttered.
“What?” Finn’s mouth hung open as Cole muttered, “Huh?”
“Poppy,” I hissed.
She turned from the flattop, spatula in hand, and waved it in a circle. “As soon as you both left, I was going to tell Cole anyway.”
“So much for keeping it to ourselves,” Finn grumbled.
“Sorry. It just sort of came out.”
“It’s okay.” He ran a hand through his hair, the red strands sticking up funny. “You two don’t have secrets.”
I smiled. He understood my friendship with his sister so well.
“Are you guys getting back together?” Cole asked.
“No,” we answered in unison.
“It’s, uh . . .” Finn trailed off. “Complicated.”
Well, at least I wasn’t the only one who didn’t know how to explain our affair.
Cole left the explanation at that, maybe because as a detective, he knew when he’d hit a dead end in a line of questioning.
“What were you going to ask about for tonight?” Finn asked.
“Oh.” Cole picked up a raspberry and plopped it in his mouth. “My parents want to take the kids for the night. Since we’re all kid-less, I thought we could go out and get a beer or something.”
“Or I could cook?” Poppy offered.
Cole shook his head. “You’re taking a break tonight.”
“I’d be up for that new Thai place,” I suggested. “I’ve been wanting to try it but the kids won’t eat it.”
While I loved hitting the movie theater solo, eati
ng at a restaurant alone was not my thing. I admired women who could do it.
“I have a better idea.” Poppy brought over the toast and warmed bacon to the table, starting to assemble the sandwiches. “How about we order takeout from the Thai place and have a game night?”
A game night. I hadn’t gone to a game night in a decade.
Poppy loved playing board games, something we all used to do together during and after college. After Jamie died, Poppy hadn’t played a board game until Cole came into her life.
Now the two had built quite the collection of games and hosted game nights every so often. Ugh. Finn used to take Brenna.
“I’m in,” Finn said and took the sandwich Poppy slid across the table.
“Nice.” Poppy handed Cole his sandwich next. He grinned at her then shoved a huge bite in his mouth.
Game night. I’d worked so hard to be happy about Poppy and Cole doing things with Finn and whichever woman he was dating. It was strange to be in that place. The other woman’s place. Strange yet . . . comfortable.
Excitement bubbled. “Sounds great.”
We all stood around the table, eating our BLTs, too consumed with food to talk. Until Finn broke the silence.
“So, Cole. What are the chances you’d be willing to fingerprint a few letters for us?”
Cole chuckled. “About as good as me agreeing to let MacKenna date before she’s thirty.”
“Hmm.” Finn frowned. “Then I’d like to report a crime. Someone broke into my house, stole some old letters and snuck them into Molly’s mailbox.”
“Still can’t run the fingerprints.”
“Damn.” Finn looked to me. “We’re back to square one again.”
“Mailbox stakeout?”
He grinned. “I’ll bring the night-vision goggles.”
“Bye.” I waved at Poppy and Cole as they stood on the porch of their house. My sides hurt from laughing so hard all night. “I love game night.”
Finn chuckled. “Me too. Especially when we dominate.”
“Did they win anything?”
“Nope.” Finn held up his hand for a high five. “Team Alcott cleaned up.”
I smacked my hand against his. Team Alcott.
It was like we’d gone back in time. Tonight had been so much fun, laughing and teasing one another as we’d played game after game. It was hard to remember the downward spiral that had happened between this game night and the last one we’d played in college.
