by Devney Perry
“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, eating 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.
Death and divorce.
“Cole is a good sport,” I told Finn as we walked down the sidewalk toward his truck.
Jamie had been so competitive, there’d been a few game nights in college where things had turned from fun to fight. But not Cole. He was competitive enough to present a challenge, but when he lost, which they had a lot tonight, he didn’t get angry.
“Yeah, he is.” Finn opened the door for me and helped me inside.
He’d picked me up tonight from home so we could ride here together. We both just assumed he’d be coming home with me. While I strapped on my seat belt, he closed the door and went around to his side, climbing in and getting us on the road.
My head was light from all the wine and even a little dizzy. Tomorrow morning might be miserable, but it had been worth it.
“What do you say we go to my place instead?”
My face whipped to Finn’s profile. “What?”
“I’d like to stay at my place for a change.”
“Oh, uh . . .” I scrambled for an excuse. “I don’t have any of my stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“My toothbrush. Pajamas. Extra hair ties.” I only had one on my wrist, so I needed to go home for a second.
“I’ve got an extra toothbrush. Kali has a pile of hair ties in the bathroom.” He met my gaze. “And you won’t need pajamas.”
I didn’t have another excuse other than the truth. We’d had such a fun night, and I didn’t want to dive into this conversation.
“Why won’t you come inside my house?” he asked gently.
“Do we really have to talk about this tonight?”
We approached a stop sign on Main Street. Taking a right led to my house. A left to his.
He answered my question by turning left.
My shoulders sagged. “It’s your home.”
“Exactly. What’s wrong with my home? The kids live there fifty percent of the time.”
“No.” I shook my head. “You don’t understand. It’s your home.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, it’s your home. A home you created without me. We’ve broken so many boundaries these past few weeks. This one, I need this one, Finn. It’s your home. Your place. Not mine.”
This line was one I would not cross. Because if I walked into his house and fell in love with the rooms he’d set up for the kids, or the way it felt to sleep beneath his sheets, it would be even harder t
o shore up that boundary when this was over.
Finn drove in silence for a few more blocks. My heart was in my throat, wondering if the end was closer than I’d thought this morning. But then he flipped his turn signal, taking us around a block until we were stopped at another intersection.
This time, he turned right.
Toward my house.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t argued but had listened to me and heard what I was saying, but tears flooded my eyes. In the quiet and dark cab, one dripped down my cheek.
If Finn saw it fall, he didn’t say a word. But he did stretch his arm across the empty seat between us, beckoning me closer.
I took the invitation, unbuckling and flipping up the console to slide over into his side. Finn always insisted that all Alcott trucks have a center seat because more often than not, a crew of workers would pile inside. One bench seat saved a six-person crew from taking two vehicles.
I was glad for it. I curled into his side and his arm wound around my shoulders. And I murmured another, “Thank you.”
“What was I thinking? We have a mailbox to stake out.”
“True.”
Though at the moment, I didn’t want the letters to stop, because I had a sinking feeling that once they did, Finn and I would stop too.
- LETTER -
Darling Molly,
It’s four o’clock in the morning. I haven’t slept for more than two hours in a row for five days. You’re passed out right now in bed and I should be next to you. But before I can sleep, I have to get this out.
You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. I didn’t think I could love you more, but then I watched you bring Kali into this world. Nineteen hours. No drugs. And you didn’t scream, not once. Amazing. The pain on your face looked unbearable, but you held tight because you didn’t want the first sound our daughter heard to be your cries. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. And you’re so amazing with her. Breastfeeding hasn’t been going well. She isn’t sleeping. I can tell you’re sore because you wince every time you walk. But you haven’t dropped your amazing smile. How do you do that?
You’re amazing. I’m exhausted and can’t think of any other word right now for it. For you. But you’re amazing. I love you.
Yours,
Finn
Chapter Ten
Finn
“Do you like it?” Kali asked me as I chewed a bite of my taco.
I nodded, swallowing before I smiled. “They’re great, sweetie. Nice job.”
“Great? Or amazing,” Molly teased. “I think they’re amazing.”
I shot her a glare as I took another bite.
I was never going to live down that last goddamn letter. I’d written it in a state of delirium. It was the one letter I’d fully intended to give to Molly as I’d scribbled the words. After I’d folded it up and left it on the office desk, I’d gone to bed that night with a stupid smile on my face.
Everything I’d written was true. Molly was amazing and I’d never forget those first two sleep-deprived weeks after Kali was born.
The next day, I woke up and went to get the letter to give to Molly, but then I reread it. Amazing had been in almost every damn sentence, so I didn’t give her the letter. I hurried to stow it away with the others so she’d never find it. Instead, I told her how amazing she was.
I told her while she was in the rocking chair in Kali’s room. They’d both been relaxed and sleepy, but awake, staring into one another’s eyes.
I sat on the floor by the chair, took Molly’s free hand and told her how brave she was. How selfless. How strong. The words I hadn’t been able to come up with the night before were much easier after a few hours of sleep.
But ever since the letter had shown up in her mailbox yesterday, she’d been teasing me relentlessly with the word amazing.
“These are really good, Kali,” Max told her, his cheeks bulging with his own bite.
She blushed, holding her own taco. “Thanks.”
While Max and I had worked in the yard tonight, Molly and Kali had made the tacos. Molly had given Kali credit for the meal.
My kids are amazing.
That thought crossed my mind at least once a day. I might overuse amazing, but it was accurate in this case. They awed me. They left me wondering how in the hell they’d turned out so good when half of each week they were left with me.
It was Molly. Her goodness had seeped into them from the beginning.
“I’m glad you guys are back,” Molly said. “It’s too quiet around here without you.”
The kids had flown in on Friday night with my parents, just in time for the anniversary celebration at the restaurant yesterday. The celebration had been a raging success, like the parties from each year before. And since Poppy and Molly had both worked for nearly twenty hours straight to make sure it went off without a hitch, they’d each taken today off before returning on Monday.
I’d spent my Sunday morning at home, working on my laptop at the dining room table while Molly was home with the kids. Then when I couldn’t stand the idea of being alone any longer, I’d driven over, not caring if she had plans or wanted time with only the kids. I’d come under the guise of working on her yard, when really, I’d missed Kali and Max.
And Molly.
After two weeks of sleeping in her bed each night, I’d been tossing and turning in my own bed because I hadn’t had my pillow.
“What did you do while we were gone?” Max asked.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” I told him quietly.
He nodded and chewed faster before repeating his question. “What did you do while we were with Grandma and Grandpa?”
What did we do while they were gone? Each other.
“Oh, not too much.” Molly’s eyes flicked to mine.
We’d spent the last week on mailbox stakeout duty, which was really nothing more than occasionally looking at it from the window or spending our evenings on the front porch instead of inside.
We were awful at surveillance, probably because we’d get antsy sitting on the porch, mere inches away from one another. The tension would grow thick, the air hot, and we’d retreat to the comfort of Molly’s cool bedroom sheets.
Which was how the last letter had come and we still had no clue who’d dropped it off.
“We actually went and had a game night with Aunt Poppy and Uncle Cole,” I told the kids.
“Who won?” Kali asked. My sweet girl had a competitive streak.
I chuckled. “We did. Duh.”
Max grinned and high-fived me. “Nice.”
We spent the rest of the meal hearing more about the kids’ trip to Alaska, then we all went outside to toss a Frisbee around in the yard before they had to go to bed.
Not once throughout the night did they ask me when I was going home. They didn’t ask what I was doing over at their house.
“Thanks for dinner,” I told Molly as we loaded the remaining dishes into the dishwasher. After dinner, we’d left them in the sink so we could spend the evening outside before the sun set.
“No problem. I’m glad we could both see the kids tonight. I missed them.”
“Me too.” I put the last glass into the top rack and closed the door. “Should I go?”
She glanced in the direction of the stairs. “I don’t know. They start camp tomorrow, and they’re both excited. I doubt they’ll wake up too early, but I don’t want to push our luck.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “I don’t want to leave.”
Molly came to lean against the counter at my side, speaking in a hushed voice. “I don’t want you to leave. But . . .”
“I know. The kids can’t know I’ve been sleeping in their mother’s bed.”
We could tell them until we were blue in the face that we weren’t getting back together, but if they caught us, it would send a completely different message.
“Should we just end this
now?” she asked.
I stiffened. The immediate answer was no. Hell no. I didn’t want to give this up. But logic began to creep in, like a fog dulling the sunlight.
This was going to end at some point. Molly and I weren’t getting back together, so this fling would eventually expire.
“I don’t want to,” I whispered. “I’m not ready yet. Are you?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Not even close.”
Our eyes locked, holding one another captive. Hers were so expressive and hungry. There was something beneath the lust, something familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
Once, years ago, Molly and I could carry on entire conversations with our eyes alone. But that was before we’d learned to hide things from one another—before I started keeping my problems from her, and she started hiding her true feelings from me.
I didn’t try to solve that look. This wasn’t about Molly and me working things out as a married couple. It was about sex.
Only sex.
I leaned closer to her, dropping my chin so my cheek brushed against her hair. It was pulled up into a messy knot, but some of the tendrils had escaped since dinner, dangling loose toward her neck.
Molly drifted my way, her breaths coming faster. The air in the kitchen crackled with anticipation.
“Kiss me.”
She gave me a slight nod, rising up on her toes.
I dipped, my breath coasting down her cheek, but then I remembered where we were. “Wait. Not here.”
She huffed when I pulled away, taking a few deep breaths as I took her hand and dragged her down the hallway to her bedroom. The second we were away from the stairs—with the door closed and out of danger that one of the kids would walk in on us—I framed her face with my hands and slammed my lips down on hers. I swallowed her gasp and let my hands roam from her face and down her shoulders. I pulled her closer, needing to feel her against me.
Her hands went for my fly, tugging the button on my jeans open to dive inside. The feel of her grip, those long fingers wrapped around my shaft, was so incredible I nearly blacked out.
