Page 124 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)

“Okay. Pick a seat and I’ll bring it over.”

She nodded, eyeing Jimmy—still groaning—and Randall—still dancing—along with their piles of jars.

I hurried to get her some lunch, a spinach salad with an incredible champagne vinaigrette Poppy had mixed up this morning.

“How are you?” I asked after sitting down across from her.

“Fine.” She went through prepping the salad. “Just fine.”

“And Dad?”

“Fine as well. He’s been editing a colleague’s book this week, so I’ve hardly seen him.”

And for Mom, that was probably preferred. Dad too. They liked their lives separate, something I’d never been able to understand since Finn and I had merged every single piece of our marriage. Relationship. Business. At the beginning, we’d been virtually inseparable.

Finn and I might not have worked out, but I wouldn’t have traded those days for anything. Mom and Dad, they’d never had that. They’d never had the passion or the love for one another that burned brighter than a star.

Even though our star went dark, it had been worth it.

“I got an interesting call this morning,” Mom said before taking another bite. “This is delicious.”

“Poppy’s a culinary genius.”

“That she is. So anyway. The call. It was from Lauren Trussel.”

“Oh?” I straightened in my chair.

Lauren Trussel was the marriage counselor I’d gone to see before the divorce. After those sessions with her alone, with me making excuses for why Finn hadn’t bothered to show up, I’d finally given up. How many sessions did it take before Lauren wrote us off as a destined-for-divorce case? One? Maybe two?

“And what did she say?” I asked.

“She said she got a strange call yesterday from Finn. He wanted to schedule some time to visit with her.”

I blinked. “Finn? My Finn?”

“Well, he’s not your Finn anymore. You are divorced. And now that he’s finally out of your house and back in his own, you can move on with your life.”

“That’s not . . .” I trailed off, not wanting to get into a discussion about her fears that I had an unhealthy attachment to my ex-husband. She didn’t know that Finn and I had been sleeping together before his accident. She didn’t know about the letters. She wasn’t going to find out either.

“Why would Finn want to see Lauren?” I asked. “And why would she tell you about it?”

“We’ve always kept in touch. She keeps me privy to things I need to know.”

“Things you need to know? And that includes Finn? What about doctor-patient confidentiality?”

“Well, Finn isn’t technically a client. At least not yet.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. There was something more here. Something Mom was keeping to herself.

“Mom,” I said gently. “Did Lauren keep you privy to the sessions I had with her?”

Another shrug as she finished a bite of salad. “I knew at a high level what was happening.”

“Define ‘high level’ for me, please.”

“She gave me an assessment of your mental and emotional state on a scale of one to ten. She felt it important that I know when you were close to a breakdown so I could be there to support you, since Finn never bothered to show up for your sessions.”

And there it was. All this time, Finn had been right. If Lauren was comfortable telling Mom about how I’d been feeling, she would have been just as comfortable giving high-level details of the sessions had Finn showed up.