Page 22 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)

And unforgiveable.

“Finn.” Mom waved her hand in front of my face.

I blinked. “What?”

“I asked if you wanted some breakfast to go with your latte.”

“Oh, um, sure. Overnight oats, please.”

“Are you all right?” She walked down to the refrigerated display case and took out the jar for me. “You look tired.”

“I just got up early.”

“You work too hard.” Mom sighed. “When was the last time you took a vacation?”

“It’s been a while.”

Brenna had planned my last vacation. She’d begged me to spend a weekend skiing at Big Sky this past winter. The maybe I’d given her had been interpreted as a yes, and she’d taken it upon herself to plan the whole thing.

Brenna had booked a romantic weekend away for us at a local ski resort. Except somehow our wires had gotten crossed, because it had turned out to be my weekend with the kids. Our romantic weekend had turned into a weekend with only me and the kids because Brenna had pouted and gone back to Bozeman.

Max, Kali and I’d had a blast skiing and staying up late in the pool.

That had been the second time she’d gotten annoyed about me having the kids on a weekend. The third time had been last weekend, when she’d wanted to sleep over but I’d told her no because the kids were there.

She’d thrown a fit, so I’d called it off.

I didn’t have a place in my life for a woman who didn’t want to spend time with my kids. A woman who couldn’t respect that I wasn’t ready for certain things in our relationship. It wasn’t entirely her fault but I’d made my position clear. She’d chosen to ignore me.

“Finn.” Mom placed her hand over mine. “You are all over the place today. Take a vacation. Please. Work will always be there.”

“I know. I’m cutting back.”

She frowned. “Really?”

“I’m trying to cut back,” I admitted.

“Try harder.”

She’d said the same thing to me almost every week since she and Dad had moved to Bozeman. It was wonderful to have them closer, especially for the kids, but they had a lot more insight into my life.

And Mom—much like Jimmy and Randall, who were still arguing next to me—didn’t hold back her opinions on my lifestyle. Dad didn’t either.

They thought my business had caused a rift in my marriage that had eventually led to complete and utter destruction.

I didn’t agree. Sure, I’d gotten busy, but I’d been providing for our family. Molly knew that too.

My phone buzzed in my pocket—a text from my landscape designer, Bridget. She was having trouble figuring out a retaining wall for a property we were landscaping along the Gallatin River. I thumbed through the pictures she’d sent and texted back a couple ide

as.

Then I dove into my breakfast and sipped my latte before it got cold. “Is Molly here?”

I hoped my question came across as casual, not the reason I’d come in here today. The last person who needed to know I’d had sex with Molly last night was my mother.

“I haven’t seen her yet, but she’s probably in the back with Poppy.”

I swallowed the last drink of my latte and pushed up from my stool. “I’m going to head on back there then. I need to talk to her about something.”