by Devney Perry
I’d begged Molly to let me do it, but she’d refused, claiming her mascara and foundation would not be victims of Jamie’s birthday list. So when Finn had come in with a clean face and a hungry belly, I’d given him a free lunch in exchange for his assistance.
“Okay. I’d better get back to work.” Finn came around the table and gave me a hug. Then he smiled at Molly. “See you tonight?”
Tonight? What was happening tonight?
She nodded. “Come over whenever. The kids are really excited.”
“I’m excited too.” He waved to us both before leaving the kitchen.
The second the door swung closed behind him, I spun on Molly. “Tonight?”
“He’s coming over for dinner.”
“What? That’s great!” My arms shot in the air. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
She shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”
“Yes, it is. You two seem to be getting along great lately and now dinner. What if he wants to get back together?” My spirits nearly shot through the roof at the possibility of a Finn-and-Molly reconciliation.
“Poppy,” she sighed, “this is just a dinner for the kids. We’re not getting back together.”
“But you might.”
She shook her head. “No. We won’t. Finn is coming over for dinner tonight so we can show the kids that we can all get along, even if we don’t all live in the same house anymore.”
“Oh.” My spirits came crashing down. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. We had a long talk a while ago and decided that we need to do a better job of putting the past behind us. We’re divorced but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
“Friends?”
“Friends,” she declared with a nod.
I didn’t buy Molly’s confidence. This friendship idea was Finn’s—I’d bet the restaurant on it. “Is that really what you want?”
“I’ll take anything he’ll give me just to get us past these awful last few months. He’s looking at me again. He’s starting to talk to me. And at the end of the day, if it makes it easier on the kids, then I’ll do whatever I have to do.”
Molly would put her heart through a meat grinder if that meant making Kali and Max smile. “Those kids are lucky to have such a wonderful mom.”
She smiled. “Finn and I love them so much, and they deserve better than we’ve given them lately.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re doing your best.”
“We can do better.” She stepped away from my side to take a seat on one of the stools. “I actually have you to thank for Finn’s change lately.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“A lot, really. The night of the paint fight last month was the night he came over to talk about us being friends again. The kids had so much fun that day, laughing and playing. Maybe it was because we were there for you or for Jamie—I don’t know—but that was the first day in a long time that he acted like himself. No anger or resentment. Just the Finn I remembered.”
It had been like old times with them that day. We’d all had fun, and I was thrilled that Jamie’s list had given their family one day of joy. I just wished they could get over the past and find that joy every day. Did they even know how much they were missing?
Molly started fiddling with the towel Finn had used to dry his face. “I think he finally clued into how much the tension between us was impacting the kids.”
“He’s only got himself to blame for that. You’re always nice when he’s around, even when he’s acting like a jerk.”
“Don’t blame him. He’s just hurt.” Molly always defended Finn’s bad behavior, but I wasn’t quite as generous with my loveable, yet infuriating older brother.
“So you guys are going to start doing family dinners?”
“That’s the plan. Dinner a couple times a month. Trips to the museum. Things where the kids are the focal point and they can see us getting along.”
“Well . . . I guess the paint fight was more of a success than I’d thought. Maybe Jamie was watching down on us and was getting sick of Finn’s attitude too.”
Molly gave me a sad smile. “It definitely helped him open his eyes. But like I said, you’re the one I have to thank.”
“Because I filled the water balloons with paint?”
She shook her head. “Because you invited Cole.”
“I know Finn has a man-crush on Cole, but what does that have to do with his attitude adjustment?”
Molly set the towel aside to look me in the eyes. “Finn’s proud of you. We both are. You’ve overcome more than either of us can fathom. Losing Jamie, you could have lost yourself too. But you didn’t. You could have shut down and pushed everyone away—no one would have blamed you for it—but you didn’t. You put the pieces of your heart back together and are strong enough to trust Cole not to break it again. When Finn came over the night of the paint fight, he told me he wants that too. He wants to put the past behind us.”
Up went my spirits again. I knew it! Finn did want to work things out with Molly. He wanted to put their family back together. He was finally seeing how much he was missing. Molly was downplaying dinner, maybe she didn’t want to have false hope, but I think it was Finn’s way of slowly making amends.
I just wished he’d told me about it. I would have skipped that second glass of water to his face.
Molly read the hope on my face but shook her head. “Finn wants to move forward, but not with me. He told me that he’s ready to start dating again.”
And just like that, the hope I’d been clinging to for months and months was gone, leaving an empty hole inside my chest.
“No.” My voice cracked. Finn and Molly loved each other. They belonged together. “But . . . you’re Finn and Molly.”
Molly’s eyes flooded. “Not anymore. Now he’s single. And I’m a cheater.”
That word. Damn that word! Months and months of restraint—of being neutral and supportive—fizzled with a word I hated just as much as widow. “I hate that word! Why do you always say it? God, you toss it out all the time and it’s driving me crazy!”
“Me?” She jerked back, and the sadness on her face twisted into anger. “That’s your word.”
“My word?” My mouth fell open. “You think I’m a cheater?”
“What? No—”
“So all this time—all this time you’ve been telling me to go for it with Cole, but deep down you really think I’m cheating on Jamie. Nice.”
She’d pretended to be so supportive, but now I knew how she really felt.
I pushed away from the table, tears flooding my eyes, but before I could run for the office, Molly shot her hand across the table. “Poppy, wait! That’s not what I meant.”
My feet stopped as I met her gaze.
“You don’t remember, do you?” she whispered.
What was she talking about? “Remember what?”
“The day I told you that I’d had a one-night stand, you called me a cheater. You said, ‘How could you? I never thought my best friend would be a cheater.’ ”
I gasped and slapped my free hand over my mouth. I’d been so upset, so angry at Finn and Molly both, that I’d said a lot that day I hadn’t meant. And Molly had been holding on to that awful word all this time.
“Oh, Molly. Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. You’re not a cheater.”
She shrugged. “Sure I am.”
“No, you’re not. Not even close. You and Finn were all but divorced at that point. And you were so hurt. It was a mistake, not cheating.”
Molly studied my face, taken back by my declaration.
Had she spent all these months wrapping herself in my haphazard label, convincing herself she was a cheater? Had she been thinking less of herself all this time?
I wanted to go back in time and slap myself for being so careless with my words. For so deeply hurting my best friend and sister. But since that wasn’t possible, I wasn’t letting her leave this kitchen
until she realized the truth.
Moving to her side, I lifted her hand off the table and pressed it between mine. “You are not a cheater.”
“I am.” Her chin started to quiver as she picked at a spot on the table with her free hand. “You said so yourself. Finn thinks it, even if he’s never said it. I am a cheater. That’s who I’ve become.”
“Molly, please look at me.”
Her eyes, swimming in tears, tipped up.
“You’re not a cheater. I don’t think that. No one does. Not even Finn.”
“He does.”
I shook my head. “He doesn’t. Never, not once, has he used that word around me. Has he ever said it to you?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Because you’re not. He might be hurt and still trying to figure things out, but Finn would never accuse you of cheating. He knows that you both made your mistakes. And I was wrong to call you a cheater. So, so wrong. And I’m so, so sorry.”
Her focus turned back to the table as she considered my apology. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I just latched on to that word as a way to keep punishing myself. I don’t know. Regardless of what I call it, mistake or cheating, I’ll always be sorry.”
I let go of her hand to tuck her into my side and rest my cheek to her hair. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
She leaned further into my side. “I appreciate that. It’s time to let it go and move on. That’s what Finn wants. I should try and do the same.”
We stayed still, listening to the hum of the appliances and the noise filtering through the door from the dining room. And, though her heart was still hurting, I knew that after today, I wouldn’t be hearing the word cheater again.
I unwound my arm and leaned back against the table. “Why didn’t you tell me about your conversation with Finn sooner? The paint fight was last month.”
She caught a tear before it could smudge her mascara. “I just needed some time to process it all. Saying it out loud makes it real.”
“I’m sorry, Molly-moo,” I whispered.
“Me too.” She sniffled, fighting hard not to cry.
And if I cried, she’d cry too. Breathe. I needed to be strong for Molly. I gripped the table behind me, sucking in some air as I reined in my emotions. But on my exhale, my heart sank. I was just so . . . disappointed. In my brother. In my friend. In this whole situation.
These two were wasting love. They were throwing it all away because of some mistakes. Finn hadn’t learned anything from me. He hadn’t been paying attention at all these last five years. Because if he’d really been paying attention, he’d realize just how lucky he was.
He had someone he loved right here. Right here, waiting to love him back. He could hug her. He could kiss her. He could tell her things—things I’d never get to say to Jamie again.
Instead, he wanted to date.
Disappointment shifted into anger as I pictured Finn out with another woman. Dating.
Fuck dating. Fuck this whole thing. I loved my brother fiercely but he was making a huge mistake. And Molly didn’t need him if he didn’t see her for the flawed, beautiful, wonderful woman she was.
“You’ll be okay,” I declared.
Her shoulders pulled back. “Yes, I will. I have two beautiful children. I love my job. I get to work with my best friend every day. I’ll be more than okay. I just need to get through this.”
I reached out and took her hand. “Minute by minute.”
“Minute by minute.”
“Does this mean you’re going to start dating too?” Just the words made my stomach tense. In my eyes, Molly would always be Finn’s.
She shook her head. “If Finn wants to move on, I won’t hold him back, but I don’t have any interest in other men. Contrary to my mistake, he’s the only man in my heart.”
“I’m sorry.”
She gave me a sad smile and did what Molly did best—steered the conversation away from Finn. “Why would you ever think I’d accuse you of cheating on Jamie with Cole? You realize how ridiculous that sounds, don’t you?”
I ran both hands over my ponytail as I sighed. “Yes. Sorry. It just came out.” Apparently, I had a really bad habit of spewing nonsense when I was angry.
“Is there something going on we should talk about?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I just . . . things have changed so much with Cole. Between the kissing and sex. It’s just an adjustment.” One I didn’t regret, but still, an adjustment.
“It’s a big change.”
“A good one, though.” I reached across the table for her hand. “I’m sorry for getting angry.”
She nodded. “Me too.”
The kitchen door swung open, interrupting our conversation as Helen carried in a tub of dirty dishes.
“I’ll do those for you, Helen.” Molly sprang off her stool, forcing a smile as she took the tub from Helen. Without another word, she went to the sink and started washing.
Our conversation was over.
Finn and Molly Alcott were over.
I left Molly to her chore, returning with Helen to the front. I took up one of the back-corner tables and rolled silverware, attempting to process my swirling emotions.
Disappointment filled the empty hole where I’d once had hope. It settled heavily along with anger and sadness.
And loss.
Finn and Molly had started dating at the same time Jamie and I had gotten together. I couldn’t think of a party in college where the three of them hadn’t been by my side. Our foursome had done everything together. Made countless memories together.
But everything from back then was gone now. Jamie. His parents. Now Finn and Molly. Gone.
My mood was nearly black by the time I rolled the last bundle of silverware. I did my best to hide my feelings from Molly, but when she finally left to pick up the kids, I was relieved to see her go.
I plastered on a smile for the dinner crowd, but as customers began to dwindle, I took Helen up on her offer to close. I fled from the restaurant, wanting nothing more than a beer, some time cuddling with my puppy and Cole.
Driving straight to his house, I hoped he’d hold me for a while, but for the second time today, my hopes were dashed. When I used the remote he’d given me last month for the garage, I was greeted with an empty space where his truck should have been.
No Cole. No Nazboo.
But at least there was beer.
I went inside and grabbed one of my wheat beers from the fridge. I drank half the bottle just standing in the kitchen before going upstairs to take a long hot shower, hoping it would wash away my bad mood before Cole got home.
With the bottle tipped to my lips, I wasn’t paying attention as I walked into Cole’s bathroom. So when my feet got tangled in something on the floor, I let out a gurgled cry as I choked and tripped. I managed to keep my feet, stumbling but staying upright. However, the same could not be said for my beer. The bottle dropped from my hands and shattered on the marble tile, sending fizz everywhere.
“Grrr!” My yell echoed in the bathroom as I balled my hands into fists. “Hang up your damn towels!”
I spun around and marched downstairs to get a broom and dustpan. With fast, angry strokes, I swept up the broken glass and then used Cole’s towel to mop up the beer. I was just dumping the glass shards into the kitchen trash can when the door leading to the garage opened and Cole stepped inside, carrying Nazboo.
“Hey.” He smiled. “You’re here early. Slow night?”
I tossed the dustpan on the counter. “Would it kill you to hang up your towel in the morning instead of tossing it on the floor for me to trip over?”
The smile on his face disappeared as he blinked at me twice. Nazboo wiggled wildly in his arms, so he set her down. She romped over and licked my bare feet.
But not even my cute puppy snapped me out of my anger. I let her lick while I planted my hands on my hips and glared at Cole.
He ignored my scowl and took a step toward me. “What happened?�
��
I threw out an arm. “I went upstairs to take a shower but I tripped on one of your towels and broke the beer bottle I was carrying.”
“Did you get hurt?”
“No, I didn’t get hurt. This time. But what about tomorrow? Or the next day?” With flailing arms, I let go of a rant that had more to do with my emotional state than Cole’s towel. “You’re a slob. You leave shit all over the house and I’m sick to death of cleaning it up.”
“Slow down.” His jaw clenched as the gentle vanished from his voice. “I don’t expect you to pick up after me. But I’m not a slob. I’m just not a clean freak.”
“You think I’m a clean freak?” I didn’t give him a chance to respond. I bent down and scooped up Nazboo, then marched toward the door. “Fine. I’ll be a clean freak in my own house.”
I didn’t make it two steps before two strong arms banded around my shoulders, pulling me back.
One second Nazboo was in my arms and then she was back on the floor. The next second, Cole spun me around and slammed his mouth on mine.
I fought his kiss, keeping my lips pursed as he ran his tongue along the seam. But with every touch, the fire he stoked melted my resolve.
He growled against my lips—the vibration sending a shudder down my back—then his arms banded around me so he could hoist me up and haul me to the counter.
The cold from the marble seeped through my jeans, but it did nothing to temper the hot throb at my core. My fingers plunged into Cole’s hair, tugging and pulling his thick, dark strands. As I slanted my face, he took control of my mouth.
I moaned as his hands ran down my sides, pawing my breasts through my T-shirt and bra, then trailing down to the button on my jeans. There was no fumbling when it came to Cole’s hands. He flicked the button with one twist while sliding my zipper down with the other.
Five seconds was all it took him to unfasten my jeans, fist the waistband and yank them down over my ass and thighs. He did it all without breaking his mouth from mine. As his hands came to the hem of my shirt to whip it off, I kicked my jeans off my calves and onto the floor.
Naked except for my bra, Cole shoved my knees apart. His rough grip on my thighs pooled the desire between my legs. He released his hard clasp on my thighs, and with the lightest touch, he traced his fingers from my knees to my hips. I loved when he did this—when he’d alternate between reckless abandon and measured deliberation. The combination left me limp and pliable under those large hands. Completely at his mercy.
