Page 128 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)

f the counter, his legs planted wide and his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ll pick you up on Sunday at six.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” I hissed, walking closer to him so Randall and Jimmy wouldn’t hear. “We’re not doing this again.”

Did he think I’d jump back into the affair we’d had before the accident?

“I’ll repeat, why not?”

“We’ve been down this path. Too many times. We agreed it was better this way, so . . . there.”

“I changed my mind,” he declared. “I’ll change yours too.”

Before I could come up with a retort, Randall interrupted us from his chair. “What are you two whispering about?”

“Nothing,” I answered.

“I asked Molly on a date.”

“Finn,” I snapped, smacking him on the arm.

“What? They’re going to find out anyway.”

“And why is that?”

He grinned. “Because after our date on Sunday night, you’ll be all smiles come Monday morning.”

Nineteen

Finn

“You’re taking me to Burger Bob’s?” Molly asked as we walked down the sidewalk along Main Street.

I grinned and dropped my hand to the small of her back. “You still like burgers with extra cheese and extra bacon, don’t you?”

“Duh.”

“Then Burger Bob’s it is.” My smile widened as I opened the door for her. We both took in the restaurant, standing in the threshold for a long moment. I steered Molly to a high-top table along the far wall, one that would give us privacy to talk.

It hadn’t been easy to convince Molly to come out tonight. She’d declined five more times the day she’d gotten my letter at the restaurant. But I’d stood behind the counter, asking over and over with my feet bolted to the floor, refusing to leave until she’d agreed to a date tonight.

Finally, she’d huffed and said yes. Jimmy had clapped for us. Randall had glared.

I’d picked up Molly twenty minutes ago. Mom had arrived early at my place to hang with the kids. She’d promised three times to adhere to their normal bedtime—but we all knew Kali and Max would get to stay up late on a school night.

I’d knocked on the door with two bouquets of lilies in hand: one for Molly’s bedroom and another for the kitchen.

She loved lilies. She said they made the house smell like a fairy garden. As I’d handed over my credit card to the florist, I’d realized it had been much too long since I’d bought her flowers. Molly deserved them weekly, and if this worked, if I won her back, she’d have them.

Maybe by bringing her here to Burger Bob’s, to the place where we’d met, she’d remember that excitement. She’d relax and enjoy an evening out. As it was, she’d been tense on the ride over. She’d been quiet. But the greasy smell in the air, promising a good meal, would loosen her up. I was sure of it.

I wasn’t planning on talking about anything serious tonight. This meal was all about spending time with each other. I wasn’t going to tell Molly that I was in love with her. I wasn’t going to tell her I wanted to move home and sell my place. I wasn’t going to tell her that we didn’t need to forget our past because I forgave her. I was working on forgiving myself.

I wasn’t going to beg her to pardon me for all of the wrong I’d done in our marriage.

Those declarations would come.