Page 11 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)

He’d dropped the kids’ backpacks inside the door. I carried them down the hallway, leaving them at the base of the stairs before ducking into the dining room positioned off the kitchen.

“Good job, guys.” Max was setting out glasses while Kali placed napkins. They must have assumed Finn was staying, because there were four plates already set.

 

; It was nice to see the dining room table full. Having it empty three or four nights a week when the kids stayed at Finn’s house was depressing. So much so, I usually ate standing in the kitchen or sitting on the living room couch. Anywhere but the dining room table, where the five empty seats made me feel alone.

“Oh, shoot.” I’d forgotten all about Gavin eating alone and my earlier plan to invite him over.

“What?” Kali asked.

“Never mind.” With Finn here, it would be too awkward to have Gavin come over. I could stop next door and invite him to a different meal later in the week after I’d caught up with the kids.

I opened pizza boxes and we each took our seats to dive in. When Max reached for his sixth piece, I swatted his hand away. “Save some for your dad. If he doesn’t eat it all, you can have the rest.”

“Okay.” He patted his belly. “I’m kinda full anyway. Do I have to eat the crusts?”

“No.” Though in an hour, he’d be hungry again.

“Can I go to my room?”

“Sure.” I winked. “Please take your backpack with you and get it unpacked.”

“Thanks, Mom.” He stood from the table, taking his plate with him to the sink. Then he bolted for the stairs.

“That kid doesn’t walk anywhere, does he?”

Kali giggled. “Can I go too?”

“Sure, sweetheart. Do you have any homework?”

She shook her head as she stood, also clearing her plate. “No.”

I stayed in my chair, watching as she put her plate and Max’s into the dishwasher. She’d always been my helper. I knew she helped at Finn’s place too.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too.” She smiled and came over for a tight hug, then she disappeared upstairs to her room.

I cleared my own plate just as the mower’s noise outside stopped. Through the kitchen window, I watched Finn come around the side of the garage and go to his truck. He toed off his grass-stained shoes and tossed them into the back. Then he did the same with his socks, which were green around the ankles. He bent down and swatted at the hems of his jeans, clearing away grass clippings before cuffing them in a tall fold.

My eyes dropped to his ass. Habit, I guessed. It still looked as good as it had when we’d been married. Finn hadn’t let age or sitting behind a desk compromise his muscled physique.

I was still staring when he stood and turned, his eyes finding mine through the kitchen window. I dropped my chin, hoping that by the time he walked inside the blush in my cheeks would be gone.

Finn came inside and straight to the kitchen. “Did Max save me anything but the crusts?”

“I guarded a few slices for you,” I said as I got him a glass of water.

“Thanks.” He washed his hands, then we both sat at the table, him on one side of a corner, me on the other. The silence stretched for a few awkward moments. “So, uh, how is work?”

“Good.” I plucked at a hair tie on my wrist. “It’s been busy. We’re already starting to see the summer tourists.”

I had the best job in all of Bozeman, working with my best friend, Poppy, at the restaurant she’d started nearly six years ago.

The Maysen Jar had always been her dream. When her husband Jamie had died in a tragic shooting ten years ago, she’d lost her footing. But that restaurant had helped her regain her balance. And not long afterward, she’d opened her heart to a new love. She’d married Cole Goodman, a man who lived up to his name.

Maybe it was time for me to find love again. Since the divorce, I’d focused on my career and the kids. But as they got older, as work got easier, I had more and more lonely moments.