The Marriage Intervention

by Hilary Dartt

  As Josie turned off of Memory Lane, she almost felt surprised to find herself looking into Scott’s eyes.

  What did he just say? “You broke my heart when you married Paul.”

  That’s right.

  I broke his heart.

  “I actually don’t believe that,” she said, although she did kind of enjoy thinking it was true. What woman doesn’t like the thought of someone holding up the pieces of his heart in her wake? And not just someone, but someone for whom she holds a flame, herself? She shook her head. Held a flame, Garcia. Past tense. “You always made it clear we couldn’t be together long-term. I thought you preferred to think of it as an unfortunate love story.”

  He ran a fingertip up and down the side of his glass. She shivered. Those fingertips.

  Stop it. Don’t even think about those fingertips.

  “It was an unfortunate love story. If you had waited, we could have been together now.”

  “If I had waited?”

  The audacity of this man. She would have been waiting a long time. Too long. Seven years pining after a man who would never put her first.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Scott said. “That would have been a long wait. A man can wish, though, right?”

  “You’re right,” Josie said. “It would have been a long time to wait. Especially for someone who made it clear we couldn’t work.”

  Scott shrugged. “But still. You’re having a drink with me.”

  Exasperated, Josie sighed. “By chance.”

  “By fate,” Scott said.

  Josie shook her head. “You’re relentless.”

  He held up his glass as if to make a toast. She wasn’t sure whether he was toasting himself or his relentlessness. “You know it,” he said.

  “So why did you want to have drinks with me?”

  “For a couple of reasons. For old times’ sake. Because I miss you. Because I realized now that I’m moving on, I won’t be seeing you anymore. I know we haven’t been together, together. But at least I’ve been able to see you every day. Your perfect eyelids, that face you make when you concentrate, the way you look absolutely sexy, I mean, mouthwatering, even when you’re going for professional. We haven’t been together, but at least you’ve been in my world. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

  Josie felt her mouth drop open. “You really feel that way?”

  “I do.”

  For the fourth time in as many days, memories flooded in. How could she possibly have so many memories of their relationship when they’d been together for only a few weeks?

  She remembered a walk they’d taken around the historic district, sipping iced teas she picked up at Umbrella Coffee, talking about which houses they liked, which they’d move into, and which they’d remodel. The trees that lined the street were leafed out and the warm summer breeze stirred them overhead so the light sparkled. Hand in hand, they walked along, and Josie felt more content than she could put into words.

  Another time they went to a performing arts festival, and a group of kids from a circus camp put an a very cute, if a little clumsy, circus act, some of them teetering on stilts and others tumbling wildly across the stage. Josie spent the entire nine-minute spectacle imagining what hers and Scott’s children would look like. Would they have his deep, round eyes, or her cat-like ones? Would their skin be that perfect mix of dark and light, the color of coffee with creamer? Yes, their lovemaking had been a little more passionate than usual that night, and she imagined he was picturing their potential children as well.

  They truly had shared some good times.

  An hour together to commemorate those times couldn’t hurt, could it?

  “All right,” she finally said. “Let’s have a couple of drinks. As a send-off. But that’s it.”

  He grinned and they clinked glasses. Josie could practically feel her mother, a little angel hovering over her shoulder, clucking her tongue and frowning. Josie hoped she wasn’t making a mistake.

  Bottoms up, Garcia.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Look at that glow,” Delaney said when Josie walked into Rowdy’s for Happy Hour.

  “Somebody finally got between the sheets with her husband,” Summer said.

  “Well, not exactly,” Josie said, feeling guilty that the glow probably resulted from her conversation with Scott Smith a few days before—and the various looks and glances he’d given her since. “But things are a lot better.”

  She quickly recapped the second counseling appointment, and Summer shone with excitement.

  “I knew it! I knew Dr. Strasser could work his magic on the two of you!”

  “Speaking of magic,” Josie said, eager, once again, to shift the attention away from herself. “Any word on a proposal, Dee?”

  “No word, but I did find some evidence,” Delaney said.

  Summer sat up a little straighter. “Evidence?”

  Delaney nodded. “Last night I was helping with the dishes at Jake’s place, and I accidentally opened the junk drawer when I went to put the ladle away. I saw a brochure in there. From a jewelry store. There were a bunch of rings on the cover. It looked like he shoved it in there, like maybe he had it on the counter before I got off work and wanted to hide it when I knocked on the door.”

  “So what did you do?” Josie said. “Did you confront him?”

  “Well, I know you would have!” Delaney said to Josie. “But I just quickly shut the drawer and pretended I hadn’t seen it. I don’t think he even noticed I went to the wrong drawer.”

  “Probably not,” Summer said. “And that’s promising news.”

  Delaney looked dreamy, and Josie squeezed her arm.

  “Speaking of news,” Josie said. “When do you find out whether Baby Number Five is a girl or a boy?”

  “I think we might be surprised this time,” Summer said. “I mean, we already have two of each, so either one will tip the scales.”

  “I can’t take the suspense!” Josie said. “How will I find the baby the perfect coming-home outfit if I don’t know whether it’s a boy or a girl?”

  “Your newest fashion challenge,” Delaney said. “A gender-neutral coming-home outfit.”

  Summer laughed, but her expression turned serious within a couple of seconds. “Okay, Josie. We’ve let you get away with misdirection, but time’s up. Why the glow?”

  Shit.

  Of course Josie couldn’t tell them about her conversation with Scott. Although she knew their romantic relationship was over, and their reminiscing over drinks didn’t mean anything beyond drinks as friends, it felt so good to hear someone talk about her the way Scott had.

  He talked about her like she was a princess. No, a goddess. A sexy vixen. He talked about her like she was an invaluable part of his life. Even now.

  “Where are you right now?” Summer said. “Geez, you look exactly like Sarah does when she’s daydreaming about a boy in her class. I love Dr. Strasser but even I’m impressed that he could help you turn things around this quickly!”

  Josie nodded and with some reluctance shoved Scott to the back of her mind.

  “Yeah, Dr. Strasser is pretty amazing,” she said. “In fact, Paul is supposed to get home early tonight, so we’ll see if all his talk carries over to the bedroom. Finally.”

  If nothing else, maybe sex with her husband would get her mind off Scott.

  ***

  Dinner didn’t have to be anything fancy, Josie reminded herself. It was really just the appetizer, anyway.

  After leaving Rowdy’s, she stopped by the grocery store and picked up some fresh sushi from the sushi bar. Early in their relationship, she and Paul bought entire meals following a theme, and she was tempted to buy sake and Japanese wine for tonight. When the words, For old times’ sake crossed her mind, an echo of Scott’s words, she flashed to an image of sitting next to him at Juniper Station. She decided on white wine from the chilled section.

  Paul promised to come home early tonight, for once leaving off the caveat, �
�unless something comes up.”

  Josie’s first reaction was to wonder why, if he he could arbitrarily drop those four words because they were working on their relationship, he never did.

  Variations of “unless something comes up” had become the soundtrack for their marriage since he went undercover.

  “I’m going to take a shower” … unless something comes up.

  “I’m going to pack my lunch” … unless something comes up.

  “I’m going to the bathroom” … unless something comes up.

  But when her mind started traveling this path, Josie thought of how Dr. Strasser had told her negativity was like a cancer.

  “Stop,” she said aloud, just as Dr. Strasser had told her to do. “Paul’s making an effort.”

  This new positive thinking thing was going to take some practice. Music would help. At home, Josie dug through their massive CD collection until she found the love songs CD she made for Paul a few years back. It was upbeat and romantic, and when she turned it way up, its beat blocked concrete thoughts from forming.

  For the first time in a long time, Josie found herself dancing at the kitchen counter as she laid the sushi out on plates and wiped down the dusty wine glasses.

  It felt good to be in such a good mood. Foreign, but good. She swayed her hips to “Sexual Healing” and to her own surprise, picked up a wooden spoon to use as a microphone.

  “Aaaand, she’s back.” Paul’s voice startled Josie, and she jumped. The wooden spoon clattered to the floor.

  Her husband stood in the doorway of the kitchen, smiling at her in a way he hadn’t done in months.

  He is so sexy. How could I have forgotten that?

  The way the early evening sun slanted in through the kitchen window, it illuminated his biceps and the stubble that ran along his jawbone. His eyes glinted in a way that was at once affectionate and completely toe-curling.

  She shrugged, then bent to pick up the spoon. When she returned to a standing position, Paul’s smile had shifted to purely predatory.

  Had she just deliberately angled her backside toward him? She had. Josie laughed, and Paul shook his head.

  “You’re pulling out all the stops, woman,” he said.

  ***

  The sexual tension built over dinner, as they sat at the counter chatting about their day. Several times between bites of sushi and sips of wine, Paul reached out to run a hand down Josie’s arm or brush her hair away from her face. She got up to get them napkins and brushed the front of her body against the back of his.

  When he finished eating, he ran a finger down the back of her neck, giving her chills.

  Josie could practically feel sex in the air. Warm and luscious, soothing and promising.

  “Do you know how long it’s been since we, you know, did it?” he asked.

  “I can’t even recall,” she said.

  She actually could recall. It was several months ago, on a sizzling hot fall night. Heat waves always bring the crime rate up (thanks to the event in question, she’d never forget that). Josie was flat on her back on the bed, hands gripping the pillows and legs splayed, and Paul was doing something amazing to her breasts with his mouth.

  Oh, this is going to be so good, she was thinking.

  Then his phone rang. Of course, it was on the bedside table and it vibrated wickedly, completely destroying the moment. Paul groaned, then got up to answer it.

  He was out the door three minutes later, Josie’s entire body coming down off this ledge of incredible anticipation.

  “Stop,” she said out loud.

  “Huh?”

  Josie shook her head. “It has been a long time,” she said.

  “Let’s not let that happen again.”

  ***

  Ah, finally.

  They left their sushi on the counter and carried their wine with them. Paul took Josie by the elbow, then ran his hand down her arm until their fingers were linked. He led her to the bedroom. Neither of them spoke.

  They’d left the bed unmade that morning, and the duvet was rumpled on top of the sheets. Josie felt a little thrill when Paul grabbed it and swept it to the floor.

  He took Josie’s wine from her and set their glasses on the nightstand.

  “I’ve missed this,” Paul said, pulling her towards him. “I’ve missed you.”

  Josie wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him lightly on the nose.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” she said.

  Paul put his hands on her hips, and pulled her even closer. For the first time in … well, in what felt like forever, the two of them looked at each other without any traces of anger or resentment, without cold politeness, and instead with passion and a knowing.

  He pushed her away, gently, and said, “Undress. I want to watch you.”

  Josie turned around, hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her pants, and slowly slid them over her hips, arching her back before letting her pants slide down to the floor.

  She looked back over her shoulder as she stepped out of them.

  Paul’s intense gaze traveled the length of her body.

  “Lay down,” he said.

  Josie giggled. Paul stepped forward and gave her a nudge.

  Once she was laying on her stomach on the bed, he began kissing her. He started with the back of her neck, then worked his way to her shoulder blades and then made a trail down her spine.

  “Relax,” he whispered, sliding his hands down her butt.

  She realized she was tense, and began consciously relaxing her muscles, one at a time. He continued kissing her back, her shoulders and her neck.

  “I feel like a stick of melting butter,” she said.

  “Well, you don’t look like one.” He flipped her over brought himself up so they were face to face. “You’re so hot. Remind me why we haven’t done this in so long.”

  She felt him between her legs and arched up to meet him. “I have no idea.”

  He slid into her and the sensation felt exactly like home.

  “Well,” he said, his lips moving against hers, “we should do it more often.”

  She groaned. “We totally should.”

  As they moved together, she brought her hands up to cup his face. She made him a silent promise that she would work harder to make things right between them.

  ***

  Laying in bed afterwards, Josie no longer felt like a melting stick of butter. She felt like a puddle soaking into the mattress. Her entire body was limp.

  “I may never move again,” she said.

  Paul laughed. “I feel energized. I could go for a run right now.”

  “It’s time to turn over a new leaf,” Josie said. “Sex every night. Or at least every week.”

  “I like the sound of that. I’m going to get us some water.”

  When he was gone, Josie stretched out, and for some reason thought of the first time she had sex with Scott Smith. Her initial reaction was to douse the memory completely. She giggled a little when she thought of those signs at campsites: “Drown Your Campfire: Every Spark.” After all, she had just had amazing sex with her amazing husband and she should be thinking of no one else. Especially Scott Smith.

  But for some reason, it made her feel good to think about the experience. Maybe because it hadn’t been very good. And it hadn’t been very good, most likely, because it had been on the evening they first met at the square downtown.

  It’s not like the attraction was crackling all afternoon or anything, she thought. They had clearly had decent chemistry, but there was no melting butter.

  After she gave him the mini-tour of Juniper, he insisted on walking her back to her car. He said it’s because a lady shouldn’t walk through town alone in the dark, but she suspected it’s because he wanted to steal a kiss or something more.

  He confirmed her suspicions after she unlocked the driver side door. She turned around to say goodnight and he had both hands on the roof of the car, trapping her between his body and the door.

&
nbsp; “Do you kiss on the first date?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, drawing the word out for suspense. “But you’re in luck. This was a tour, not a date.”

  He was on her then, his strong, wiry body pressed against hers like a log stuck on its way down a river: he wasn’t supposed to be there, but the flow of the water had him stuck, bumping up against her.

  Now, Josie remembered thinking it didn’t feel quite right, but she attributed that feeling to the fact that they were strangers. At the time she told herself sex with some men was similar to wine tasting. Just like you weren’t supposed to judge a wine by the first sip, you couldn’t really judge a man by the first round of lovemaking. Was that true? In Scott’s case, he did show marked improvement in that department during the next couple of weeks.

  Suddenly, Josie felt cold. She pulled the sheet up over her body. What was taking Paul so long?

  That first time, Scott didn’t bother with the pleasantries of foreplay. She pushed her irritation out of her mind, telling herself it was because he was so turned on, so anxious to take her, so ready for her. The next time they got to this point, she was sure he would slow down. Well, that didn’t happen. Scott Smith was intimate at all the wrong times, running a fingertip up her thigh in a crowded room or sliding his tongue along her ear during a meeting when he pretended to whisper something to her. He was only intimate when intimacy was nearly impossible. When they couldn’t actually share the moment. She always had to pretend it wasn’t happening. And when they were in bed, when she wanted to enjoy it, he rushed through it, crushing those moments like a little kid tromping through a garden of seedlings.

  Josie chuckled at that comparison.

  After they had sex a couple of times, she managed to get Scott to slow down, but she could tell it took a real effort. He was a skilled lover, always knowing exactly which buttons to push. He could bring her to climax in three seconds flat, yet it seemed more automatic than personal.

  Interesting.

  On the other hand, Paul was always careful. He took his time. He craved intimacy whether they were alone or together. Not sneaky groping disguised as intimacy, but quick moments where Josie felt like they communicated in some secret language no one else could hear or understand. They hadn’t shared many of those moments lately, though.