by Devney Perry
Finn shook his head, trying to remember. “You never came there.”
“I did. You weren’t alone.”
“Who . . .” His face fell as he answered his own question. “Bridget.”
“She was there. Cuddled up to your side as you watched a movie in the loft.”
Bridget and her tight little body. She’d fit well into Finn’s side. Maybe that was why I hated her so much. She fit with Finn.
And I . . . I was just a woman who’d spent hours getting ready to impress a man whose gaze had already wandered.
“Molly.” He held up his hands. “There has never been anything between Bridget and me. I swear.”
Was he lying? I searched his face, every crease. Every angle. He was telling the truth. “You swear?”
“On Jamie’s grave,” he said with a sure nod. “I have never touched Bridget in that way.”
The relief made my knees weak. I’d always wondered . . . but the way Finn had reacted after my one-night stand convinced me he’d never done anything with Bridget. He wasn’t the kind of man who’d punish me for a mistake he’d already made himself.
But then there were the years after the divorce. They worked late together. They were close. I’d convinced myself years ago that they’d had something going on at one point or another.
The image of them cuddled together that night was one I’d never forget.
“I came up the stairs. Quietly, I guess. Or else the TV was too loud because you didn’t hear me. I froze when I saw you both together.”
“She kept me company. That was all.”
“Kept you company? She was there, inches away from you, ripping me to shreds. Your wife. And you just sat there.”
“What? No.” Finn shook his head. “I wouldn’t let her run you down.”
I fumed. Wasn’t this conversation about honesty?
“I was there. You two were sitting together, eating from the same bowl of popcorn, like we’d done time and time again. She asked you if you were going home. You said, ‘No.’ She asked you if we were getting divorced. You said, ‘Yes.’ Then she proceeded to go on a rant about how I wasn’t good enough for you. That I wasn’t the wife you needed because I didn’t support you. She called me a bitch for kicking you out of the house and separating you from the kids. And what did you say? Nothing.”
Finn opened his mouth but no words came out.
“We were only separated. We hadn’t decided to get a divorce. Or at least, I thought we were still trying to fix our marriage. But you’d already decided we were done. And instead of telling me you wanted a divorce, you told your employee, the woman who called me a bitch to your face and you . . . You. Said. Nothing.”
“Molly,” Finn said, hanging his head. “I don’t know what to say. Hand to God, I don’t remember her saying that.”
“I’m not making it up.”
“I didn’t say that.” He held up his hands. “I’m not calling you a liar. If the TV was on, if I was tired . . . I don’t remember. Are you sure I was even awake?”
“Yes.” Maybe. Was he awake? I’d been so focused on Bridget’s profile, the way her body had leaned into his side. I hadn’t really noticed much of Finn’s face. He’d been sitting with his arms thrown over the back of the couch. His face had been aimed at the TV, not hanging loose or lulled to the side. But I couldn’t remember if his eyes had been open. Oh my God. Could he have been asleep?
Bridget had been talking to him like he’d been awake. But could he have nodded off?
The idea that I could have misread the entire thing, that he might not have even heard her words, made me want to curl into a ball and cry. A strangled sound came from my throat.
“Why didn’t you confront me about it?” he asked.
“Because.” I blinked, the doubts fogging my mind. “Because it was too late. I left Alcott, thinking we were done. I met up with Lanie at her party. Poppy wasn’t there because she was having a hard night, so I was alone. I drank too much. I listened to the girls tell me how I deserved better. How you were probably fucking Bridget anyway.”
“I wasn’t fucking Bridget,” Finn gritted out.
“She’s been in love with you since day one. It was easy to believe you were into her too.”
“What?” His entire body jerked. “Bridget is not in love with me.”
“Then you’re blind,” I huffed.
Bridget looked at Finn like he was a rock god on stage, surrounded by a mass of people, singing only to her.
“Whatever.” Finn waved it off. “You should have confronted me.”
“While you were snuggled up with Bridget?” I shot back. She’d been wearing shorts. They’d ridden so far up that her entire bare thigh had been pressed against his jeans.
“What about the next day? You could have confronted me the next day.”
“It was too late. After . . . after it was done, when I came to tell you the truth, I tried to tell you everything. I tried to tell you that I’d been blitzed out of my mind. That there was this group of guys following us from bar to bar. That one of them was flirting with me. But you didn’t want to hear it.”
“I didn’t then. I don’t now. So, stop. Just stop.”
“No!” I yelled. “You don’t get to pick and choose parts of the story to hear. The guy who was flirting with me was sweet. He called me beautiful. He gave me water when I was getting too drunk. He walked me outside to wait for my cab so I wouldn’t be alone.”
“Stop!” Finn yelled, backing away from me.
“He kissed me. It was dark. I can’t remember if there were other people around, but I remember him kissing me.”
“Molly,” Finn pleaded, taking a step away. “Stop. Please.”
“The next thing I remember was being backed up against a wall. He pulled up my dress and—”
“Shut up!” Finn roared. He threw his crutch, sending it flying across the kitchen and crashing onto the floor. It skidded to a stop by the dining room table.
I flinched. I’d gone too far. I hadn’t meant to share the details with Finn, but the dam had been opened. I’d never told a soul about what had happened that night, not even Poppy. I’d told them I’d had sex with another man and let everyone assume the details.
“It lasted a whole five seconds until I realized what was happening. I pushed him away. I told him I was sorry and then I ran. He wasn’t you, and I knew I’d made a horrible mistake. But it was too late.”
The air in the kitchen stilled. Finn’s chest heaved. His eyes were blank.
I shook from head to toe. I’d finally gotten it all out. Finally relived that night, not only for Finn, but for myself. He wasn’t the only one who’d blocked it out for years. But now there’d be no forgetting. There’d be no ignoring this and pretending we could be that loving couple again.
The dream of Finn and Molly was over.
“Why are you telling me this?” Finn’s voice was flat as he spoke.
“You had your letters. I had nothing. The person I talked to, the person I turned to when my life was upside down, was you. It was always you. And you weren’t there.”
“That’s not a good enough reason to fuck another man.”
“No, it isn’t. And I’m sorry.” My chin quivered uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’m so sorry I betrayed you in that way. It’s something I’ll regret until the end of my life. But it happened. It happened, Finn. It all happened. Just like you being with other women happened. I hate thinking about you with Brenna or any of the others. But it’s there. We have to live with the wounds we’ve inflicted on one another.”
“There weren’t any others,” Finn said so quietly I almost missed it.
“No. I haven’t been with anyone since the divorce. Except you.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Finn looked up, his blank stare gone. “There weren’t any others. Since you, there weren’t any others.”
There weren’t any others? What? “I don’t understand.”
“Women.
There weren’t any other women.”
I blinked at him, replaying his words. “You’ve been dating for years.”
“Yes, I have. And not once have I taken another woman to bed.”
My knees had held out until that point, but with that blow, they didn’t have any strength left. I stumbled sideways, my hip crashing into the side of the counter so hard it would bruise.
“No.” I closed my eyes, my hands coming to my face. “No, no, no.”
There were supposed to be other women. They were supposed to even the score. I’d become celibate and Finn had become the town’s most eligible playboy.
But the scales tipped again, right back in his favor.
“What about Brenna?”
He scoffed. “Brenna got tired of waiting around. She gave me an ultimatum. Intimacy or we were done. That was the week before I started sleeping with you.”
My head was spinning and the only thing I could think to say was, “Why?”
“Why? I’ve been in love with you since I was twenty-one years old. I might not wear the ring, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel it there.”
All this time, he’d been free.
And he’d held on to me.
The air in the kitchen was suffocating. I couldn’t fill my lungs. I couldn’t clear the fog, so I bolted past Finn and ran down the hallway toward the front door.
The moment I flung it open and the summer air hit my face, the tears spilled down my cheeks. But I didn’t make it one more step.
“Do not run from me.”
I froze in the doorway at Finn’s booming voice. Behind me, he shuffled to catch up, then his heat was at my back.
“I need air,” I choked out.
“Then we’ll sit on the porch. Together. But don’t you run from me, Molly. Not again. You wanted to open all of this up. It’s open. And we’re not leaving it undone. Not again. So don’t you dare run from me. I’ll break my leg all over again chasing you. And make no mistake, I will chase you.”
I didn’t doubt him for a second.
I turned, the tears making his stern face blurry. “I’m so sorry, Finn.”
“I know.” He took my elbow and escorted us outside. When we were both seated on the front step, he pulled me into his side. “I know.”
“I’d take it back.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He hesitated, long enough that I knew his answer would be honest. “I know.”
We sat there in silence for a long time. The birds chirped as they flew between the trees. The slight breeze rustled the leaves. The world was bright and beautiful.
Everywhere but on this step.
The gloom hovered over our heads. The weight of all that had happened sat on our shoulders.
“It’s too heavy,” I said, breaking the quiet.
“What’s too heavy?”
“The past. It’s too heavy to forget.” It was too heavy to forgive.
But that was what needed to happen. We had to forgive. Each other. Ourselves.
How many times had I wished to go back in time and change my actions? How many hours had I spent loathing myself? I’d been living with so much regret. So much guilt.
Until I forgave myself for being human and flawed and impulsive, the past would haunt me.
It would haunt us.
“Can you forgive me?” I asked Finn.
He leaned back to look in my face. His eyes gave me the answer before his mouth. “I don’t know.”
“Fair enough.”
The silence returned, the only noises on the porch coming from the neighborhood. A kid was playing basketball on the next block over and the thud of the ball’s dribbling echoed off the homes. A plane flew overhead, the buzz fading as it ascended into the clouds. The world went on around us without a care as Finn and I sat frozen on the porch, reeling from the truth.
Things might have been so different . . . if only.
If only.
Finn cleared his throat. “My doctor said with my PT going so well, I could get into a different boot or maybe no boot at all in two weeks. Regardless, I should be able to drive by the end of the month. Would you mind if I stayed until then? I’d like a little more time with the kids.”
“Okay.”
As hard as it would be to have him here, it was the right thing to do. I wanted to ease Kali and Max into the fact that we were all splitting up again.
It was for the best.
“I’m sorry, Molly.”
I leaned into his side and rested my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Finn.”
“I love you.”
I closed my eyes. “I love you too.”
It felt good to say those words. To let them float into the wind and fade with the sunshine.
It felt good to say those words.
One last time.
- LETTER -
I never thought this would be us. I never imagined we’d be here, getting a divorce.
I feel like I’m going to wake up tomorrow morning in our bed and this will all have been a nightmare. But it’s real.
I’m ashamed of you. I’m ashamed of myself.
You quit me.
And I quit you.
Chapter Seventeen
Finn
“I’m done.” Max rushed over from his corner of the yard.
“Awesome. Let me check.” I pushed up off the grass and slowly made my way to the other side of the yard. My boot had been removed yesterday and the doctor said I’d be fine to walk with only my crutch. But that thing was a pain in the ass, so I’d ditched it in an empty hallway at the hospital and I was taking it slow instead.
Max beat me across the yard and was jumping up and down next to the patch he’d been smoothing out with mulch. “See?”
I grinned. “Looks perfect, son.”
His chest swelled with pride. “What’s next?”
I spun in a slow circle, taking in the yard. Over the last two weeks, I’d spent most of my free time out here. With things being tense and awkward with Molly, I’d escaped to the yard to finish the project I’d started at the beginning of summer.
The odd angles and sharp corners had been removed. The trees and shrubs Molly hadn’t liked—the ones I’d planted as experiments—had been removed. All that remained was to plant her lilac bush.
Kali was on her hands and knees in the opposite corner of the yard, tending to the hole we’d dug. Because lilacs had a tendency to get so large, I wanted this one to have plenty of room to grow and bloom. Even with the distance, the fragrant blossoms would carry across the yard to the back deck. If Molly left the screen open, she’d catch whiffs of the scent all spring.
“Run inside and get your mom,” I told Max.
He nodded and took off while I ambled toward Kali.
“I poured the water in the bottom, just like you said.” She smiled up at me. “What’s next?”
“We’ll take the burlap off the roots and get it set.” I pulled a utility knife from my pocket and bent down, cutting away the cloth from the bush’s roots.
“Dad, I . . .” Kali hesitated, her eyes aimed at the hole.
“What?” I asked gently.
She gave me those sad eyes, the ones that melted my heart. “I wish you didn’t have to go to your house.”
I tossed the knife aside and put my hand on her shoulder. “Me too. But that’s where I live.”
“Do you . . . never mind.” She dropped her gaze to the dirt, spreading some beneath her fingers.
I gave her time, letting her work up the courage to talk. That was the way with Kali. She’d always open up if I didn’t rush her. She was like me in that way. She pondered things before she spoke. She kept more inside than I wished she would.
“This sucks,” she mumbled.
“Yeah, sweetie. It does.”
She looked up at me, her bottom lip worried between her teeth. “Do you think you and Mom might ever get together again?”
My shoulders sank. More than an
ything, I wanted to tell her yes. To tell her that we’d be a family again. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I love your mom.”
“You do?”
I nodded. “I’ll always love your mom. She’s the best person I’ve ever met. And she gave me you and Max.”
“Then I don’t understand. I know Mom loves you too. So why can’t you be together? Don’t you like living here with us?”
“More than anything.” I gave her a sad smile. “I know it’s hard to understand. We love each other, but we have to be able to make each other happy too. And right now, we don’t. Does that make sense?”
She shrugged. “Sorta.”
That was a no. It didn’t make sense. I was struggling to comprehend it all myself. And I was dreading the end of this day.
After our fight two weeks ago, Molly and I had been avoiding one another. It had given me plenty of time to ponder our situation. To dig deep and decide if I could truly forgive Molly for what had happened that night.
Fourteen days, and I wasn’t any closer to the answer.
So today, after the yard was finished, I was going home.
Alone.
“What’s up?” Molly asked as she stepped through the patio door, following Max as he raced toward me and Kali.
“We’re ready to plant the lilac bush.”
She smiled, doing a sweep of the yard. “It looks so wonderful out here.”
“Yeah, it does.” The best yard on earth. Not because of the landscaping, but because of her and the kids. Because we’d built it together.
Molly came over and knelt down next to me and Kali. Max hovered around us, bouncing from one foot to the next as I lifted the bush above the hole.
“Need help?” Molly asked, her hands reaching out.
“I’ve got it.” With the bush placed in the hole, I gave the nod to start pushing in dirt. “Okay, guys. Fill it in.”
Four pairs of hands dove into the dirt, shoving and packing it around the roots.
“That’s it?” Max asked when the hole was filled.
