Page 33 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)
Before I could agree, the front door to the house burst open and the kids came rushing down the porch steps.
Max was wearing the garden gloves Finn had bought him last summer. He clapped his hands together twice as he smiled. “Okay. Where do I start?”
Finn chuckled. “How about we start by taking a walk through the backyard? I’d like to ask your mom how she wants it to look.”
That statement sent my chin to the dirt. When Finn had done the landscaping here, he hadn’t asked me what I wanted. Not once. I recovered from the shock quickly, knowing exactly what I wanted for my yard. “I’d like a lilac bush.”
“What color?”
“Deep purple.” I’d always wanted one so I could cut blooms in the spring and put them in the house to enjoy their smell. But with the other bushes and shrubs, there wasn’t room. Lilacs expanded rapidly and there was enough trimming to do each year as it was.
“You got it.” Finn led the way to the backyard, the kids skipping along at his side.
I trailed behind them.
Finn was fixing my yard. Personally. What the hell is happening?
He wasn’t just tossing a side project to one of
his foremen to manage. He wasn’t delegating this down the line to a crew of college kids who’d come over to my house and track dirt inside whenever they needed to use the bathroom.
He was putting in the effort to do this on his own.
The three of us walked around the perimeter of the backyard as Finn asked me questions about what I wanted to keep or ditch.
“What about the fountain?”
“I don’t want it,” I admitted. “It takes forever to clean and is always full of leaves.”
He nodded. “Then it’s gone.”
If not for my heart swelling to three times its normal size, I wouldn’t have believed this was real.
“We’re having BLTs for dinner tonight,” Kali said when we’d made the full loop of the yard. “Want to eat with us?”
He looked to me for permission. His blue eyes were bright in the sun. He smelled like the spring air and fresh grass. His square jaw was dusted in light scruff from the day. He looked so handsome, a small smile pulling at one side of his mouth, that I forgot all about my plans to ignore last night and keep my distance from Finn.
“Stay. Please.”
His eyes flared at my words. I’d said the same thing last night when he’d had me pressed against the hallway wall outside my bedroom. His lips had been trailing down my neck. His hands had been cupping my breasts.
Dinner wouldn’t just be dinner.
_
Darling Molly,
* * *
I’m proposing to you tomorrow.
* * *
I’m so damn nervous I can’t sleep. I’m not good at telling you how I feel. I get the words jumbled and nothing comes out right. I’m terrified I’m going to mess it all up and you’ll say no. Maybe I’ll keep this letter as my backup. If I start to say something stupid, I’ll just hand this over. Not that you can even read it. My hands are shaking so bad I can barely write.
* * *
I love you, Molly.
