Page 68 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)

She blushed, holding her own taco. “Thanks.”

While Max and I had worked in the yard tonight, Molly and Kali had made the tacos. Molly had given Kali credit for the meal.

My kids are amazing.

That thought crossed my mind at least once a day. I might overuse amazing, but it was accurate in this case. They awed me. They left me wondering how in the hell they’d turned out so good when half of each week they were left with me.

It was Molly. Her goodness had seeped into them from the beginning.

“I’m glad you guys are back,” Molly said. “It’s too quiet around here without you.”

The kids had flown in on Friday night with my parents, just in time for the anniversary celebration at the restaurant yesterday. The celebration had been a raging success, like the parties from each year before. And since Poppy and Molly had both worked for nearly twenty hours straight to make sure it went off without a hitch, they’d each taken today off before returning on Monday.

I’d spent my Sunday morning at home, working on my laptop at the dining room table while Molly was home with the kids. Then when I couldn’t stand the idea of being alone any longer, I’d driven over, not caring if she had plans or wanted time with only the kids. I’d come under the guise of working on her yard, when really, I’d missed Kali and Max.

And Molly.

After two weeks of sleeping in her bed each night, I’d been tossing and turning in my own bed because I hadn’t had my pi

llow.

“What did you do while we were gone?” Max asked.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” I told him quietly.

He nodded and chewed faster before repeating his question. “What did you do while we were with Grandma and Grandpa?”

What did we do while they were gone? Each other.

“Oh, not too much.” Molly’s eyes flicked to mine.

We’d spent the last week on mailbox stakeout duty, which was really nothing more than occasionally looking at it from the window or spending our evenings on the front porch instead of inside.

We were awful at surveillance, probably because we’d get antsy sitting on the porch, mere inches away from one another. The tension would grow thick, the air hot, and we’d retreat to the comfort of Molly’s cool bedroom sheets.

Which was how the last letter had come and we still had no clue who’d dropped it off.

“We actually went and had a game night with Aunt Poppy and Uncle Cole,” I told the kids.

“Who won?” Kali asked. My sweet girl had a competitive streak.

I chuckled. “We did. Duh.”

Max grinned and high-fived me. “Nice.”

We spent the rest of the meal hearing more about the kids’ trip to Alaska, then we all went outside to toss a Frisbee around in the yard before they had to go to bed.

Not once throughout the night did they ask me when I was going home. They didn’t ask what I was doing over at their house.

“Thanks for dinner,” I told Molly as we loaded the remaining dishes into the dishwasher. After dinner, we’d left them in the sink so we could spend the evening outside before the sun set.

“No problem. I’m glad we could both see the kids tonight. I missed them.”

“Me too.” I put the last glass into the top rack and closed the door. “Should I go?”

She glanced in the direction of the stairs. “I don’t know. They start camp tomorrow, and they’re both excited. I doubt they’ll wake up too early, but I don’t want to push our luck.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “I don’t want to leave.”