A Wedding in December

by Sarah Morgan

  “He looked as shocked as we were. And I’m not sure Katie was thinking. Which isn’t like her. Katie always thinks everything through.”

  “She gets that from me. You and Rosie are the impulsive ones.” She glanced at him. “Sorry. That sounded like a criticism and I didn’t mean it to. I’m—panicking, I suppose. This whole situation has turned into a nightmare.” Grabbing her robe she contorted herself to put it on under the covers and then slid out of bed.

  “Not the whole situation.” Nick grabbed her hand and tugged her down next to him. “Last night was—”

  “It was.” She leaned in and kissed him, her heart full, but her mind somewhere else. “And I know we still have so much to talk about and work through, but our priority right now has to be our girls. And I don’t even know which one of them to go to first.”

  “Maybe they don’t need us wading in. They need space. You heard Katie. They’re adults. They want to be treated as adults, and that means leaving them to sort out their own problems.”

  “Leave them? You mean not go to them?”

  “Our role is to support, Mags, not fix.”

  “But they’re both hurting.” And she’d never grown used to the fact that when her children hurt, she hurt, too. It was as if there was a physical connection. How could she not go to them at a time like this? “And what did Rosie mean about Jordan intentionally keeping Katie away for the night so that she and Dan could be together?”

  “I don’t know. There have obviously been things going on between the girls that we don’t know about.”

  “Now I think about it, you’re right. Katie looked upset. Do you think something happened between her and Jordan?”

  “Jordan? What would happen between her and Jordan?”

  “Oh Nick.” Maggie shook her head. “You must have picked up the tension between them.”

  “Exactly. Tension. So nothing is likely to have happened, is it? Except that if he did keep her there on purpose then the guy will probably live to regret it.”

  “How can someone so smart be so clueless?”

  “Jordan?”

  “You! I don’t mean angry tension, I mean sexual tension. Are you seriously telling me you haven’t picked up the chemistry between them?”

  “Chemistry?”

  “Let’s just say they’re not indifferent to each other, and I can’t believe you haven’t noticed that.”

  “What can I say? My brain has been full of my own romantic issues, and intrigue is definitely not my area of expertise. I need coffee. Maybe then I’ll be able to process this. Go to the girls.” He sounded tired. “I know you want to, and it’s fine.” He walked to the kitchen and she watched him go, torn in two. How many times had she put the girls first? The answer was every time. She hadn’t nurtured her marriage, assuming with a flagrant carelessness that it didn’t need tending and would be fine. Neglected, it had withered, but apparently it hadn’t died. New shoots were visible, and there was definitely life in their relationship. But not if they were simply going to carry on as they had before.

  She wanted to go to the girls. She wanted to dress their wounds, hug them tightly and help them heal. She could tell herself that this was a crisis moment, that they needed her now, and that next time she’d take a step back. But there would always be a crisis, wouldn’t there? That was life. There were always explosions, whichever path you walked.

  And Nick was right. They were adults now. They needed to find a way to deal with their own problems. If they wanted to come to her, they’d come to her.

  She slid out of bed, ignoring the almost physical pull to go to her children.

  And it wasn’t only the girls of course. What about Catherine? She’d put so much effort into making this the perfect wedding and right now it didn’t look as if it would happen.

  She reached for her phone and then put it down again. Catherine probably needed time to process what had happened, too. It would be fine to call later.

  She slipped on a robe and walked to the living room.

  “You’re right, this time I’m putting us first. If the girls want us, they can call.”

  He paused, a mug in one hand and the jug of coffee in the other. “I understand if you want to go to them, Mags.”

  “I don’t.” She was sure of it now. “They’re important, but we’re equally important. I don’t want to lose this, Nick. I’m not even sure what ‘this’ is, but I want to give it the attention it deserves.” She needed to know she’d done everything she could to hold on to this marriage that was so precious to her. How could she have let something so special go without a fight? How could she?

  He held her gaze and she saw something in his eyes she hadn’t seen in a long time. Something that was hers alone. Something that no one else could share. After so many months unable to reconnect with the man she’d married, she’d finally found him. And she wasn’t letting him go.

  “I’ll take a shower while you’re making coffee.” She turned and walked into the bathroom, wondering how it was possible to feel light and heavy at the same time. She was worried about the girls, but that didn’t take away the memory of the night before and the hope for the future that was wrapping itself around her like a hug.

  Her feet were bare and she pressed them into the heated floor. Maybe they needed to refit the bathroom in Honeysuckle Cottage.

  She realized that she and Nick hadn’t even mentioned the house in their discussions. There were so many things they hadn’t talked about. But it would happen, she knew it would. This wasn’t an ending, it was a new beginning.

  Katie walking in when they’d been talking about divorce had shaken them both.

  There had been a moment of panic. A moment when both of them had focused on their eldest daughter and her feelings. After they’d realized she wasn’t going to pick up her phone and talk to them, they’d been forced to talk to each other. Not a fake interchange, like the ones they’d been having since they’d stepped off the plane in Denver, but an honest discussion. They’d talked about the day he’d made the decision to move out, a decision she hadn’t challenged, and they’d traced the loose thread of their relationship back until they could identify when the first holes had appeared in the fabric of their marriage. They saw that a series of wrong choices had brought them here, choices that at the time had seemed so trivial they hadn’t even registered. The late-night tea she’d refused when he’d returned from one of his trips, because she was tired. His decision to sleep in the spare room when she was up and down in the night with Rosie. The dinners out she’d refused because she was afraid to leave Rosie with a babysitter. The time they’d synchronized calendars to make sure all home and family obligations were covered, but hadn’t put in time for themselves. Each seemingly insignificant choice had eroded their time together. At some point he’d taken her hand, and still they’d talked. She acknowledged that her life had become consumed by the girls, that Rosie’s frequent trips to the hospital had caused her more anxiety than she’d admitted. He’d confessed to guilt that she’d handled that anxiety alone, and he’d acknowledged that he’d let work overwhelm family life. The touching, the physical contact, had been gradual. A lacing of fingers, a hand on a thigh, an arm around a shoulder and then finally the connection had become more intimate. Lips, hands, bodies. The past had retreated as they’d focused on the moment and gradually stitched together all the threads that had been untangled. Under the sparkle of Christmas tree lights, he’d led her to the bedroom, undressing her on the way. The way he’d touched her had felt familiar and yet new.

  Would that even have happened if Katie hadn’t walked in when she did and overheard them talking?

  Maggie turned on the shower and stepped under the jets of water.

  She was anxious and a little sad, so how could she also be feeling happy?

  She was thinking about Nick’s hands on her body when she heard a sound and
then felt his actual hands on her body.

  She gasped, opened her eyes and almost drowned. “What? You’re supposed to be making coffee.”

  He flashed her a smile and wiped the water from her face. “Coffee is brewing. No sense in taking two showers. This is the eco version.”

  “It’s daylight.”

  “Why do you think I’m here? You look cute when you’re wet, have I told you that?”

  “Cute is for twenty-year-olds.” She felt ridiculously self-conscious.

  “I can promise you it isn’t.” He lowered his head and kissed her neck and then her shoulder.

  Her heart kicked up a few paces, but this time reality kept her feet on solid ground. “Nick, we can’t—the girls—seriously—after what just happened?”

  “There was no lock on the bedroom door, but luckily for me—and you—there is a great lock on the bathroom door. And I used it. Relax.” His mouth slid to her shoulder and she felt her legs go weak.

  “If I relax, I drown. I’m too old to have sex in a shower.”

  “Where is this ‘I’m too old’ coming from?”

  “Maybe from the fact that I am too old? And so are you.”

  “Now you’ve bruised my ego.” He kissed her slowly, deliberately, taking his time. “I’m going to have to prove you wrong.”

  “We’ve never had sex in a shower.”

  “Because the bathroom in Honeysuckle Cottage has a sloping roof and sex in the shower would most likely result in a serious head injury, but this shower—” He lifted her easily and she gasped and wrapped her legs around him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m sweeping you off your feet. Enjoying my second honeymoon. And I have to say, Mrs. White, so far it’s been as much fun as the first.”

  “You can’t do this!” She squirmed self-consciously. “I’m too heavy.”

  “Are you saying I’m feeble? You’re denigrating my manhood?”

  “No, I’m saying I weigh too much for you to pick up! And I don’t want to have to call for help because you’ve slipped a disc and are lying naked in a shower. Our daughters would never speak to us again, that’s if they still are, and as for Catherine—goodness knows what Catherine thinks of us. This is crazy, Nick. Put me down.”

  “Haven’t you heard?” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “The couple who half kill themselves in the shower together, stay together. It’s a bonding activity recommended by therapists the world over.”

  “That’s not the version I know. Nick, I’m serious. We can’t—”

  He kissed her.

  His mouth was gentle on hers, coaxing her lips apart. She felt the erotic slide of his tongue and the knowing stroke of his fingers over her bare skin.

  She melted into him, shocked by the intensity of her own response.

  Married couples didn’t feel this way, did they? That frantic, heart pumping, heat-in-the-belly type of excitement came with youth and unfamiliarity. It didn’t come after two children and more than thirty years of shared history.

  Or maybe it did. He knew her. He knew exactly how to touch her, where to touch her. There was no fumbling, or clumsy exploration. Just an urgency she didn’t recognize, a desperation neither of them had felt in a long time. They’d been apart for months, and before that they’d been sleeping in separate rooms. In some ways this was new.

  She kissed him back and slid her hands over his shoulders. She’d always loved his shoulders. She’d loved to sleep with her cheek pressed against his chest, she’d loved watching him sweep the girls off their feet and gallop around the garden with them riding those shoulders. Years had passed, but those shoulders were still broad, and still strong. There was a physical aspect to his job, and he kept himself fit.

  She felt his muscles flex as he lowered her, not because he couldn’t hold her, but because he wanted full access to her body. As he closed his mouth over her breast she gasped and almost inhaled the water still raining down on them.

  He shifted her slightly so that the water was away from her face, and then slowly worked his way down her body.

  Those hands had lost none of their skill. Neither had his mouth. And she knew, deep in her heart, that he wasn’t only showing her that he knew how to give her pleasure, he was showing her that he loved her. Every stroke, every intimate touch, sent pleasure surging through her body and when he finally entered her she cried out his name and held on to him. He set the rhythm, but she followed, matching him, taking him until the sensation built to almost unbearable levels and they both tipped over the edge together.

  Afterward neither of them moved. They stayed locked together in the steamy warmth of the shower.

  Her breathing and her heart were in a race. She leaned her head against his chest, and felt the answering thump of his heart. She felt his hand curve around the back of her head, cradling her there.

  “I can’t believe I almost lost you.” His tone was raw. “I can’t believe I almost let you go. I love you, Maggie. God, I love you so much.”

  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, afraid to open them in case the moment disappeared.

  She wanted to speak, but she couldn’t, and still his arms stayed locked around her.

  “I know we still have things to talk about.” He eased her away from him and smoothed her wet hair back from her face. “Many things. But I need to know we’re going to find a way. I need to know that you want to find a way. Will you look for a way with me?”

  “Yes.” She placed her palm on his jaw, feeling the scrape of stubble. “We’ll find a way. I want that, too.”

  She wasn’t going to let them drift apart again.

  She wasn’t going to let that happen.

  “We should probably get dressed.” He pressed a kiss against her hair. “In case we have more visitors. It seems to happen a lot.”

  “Good plan. Pass me a towel.”

  “First, let me look at you. Do you know how long it is since I’ve seen you naked?”

  She was conscious of the beam of sunlight. “Nick—”

  “No more undressing in the bathroom and sex in the dark. Promise me.”

  “I’m not comfortable walking round naked. I have stretch marks. This body has given birth to two children.”

  “Our children.” He murmured the words against her mouth, and then her neck as he inhaled the scent of her. “We made those children together. And I love your body. I think I already proved that given that I had the staying power of an adolescent.”

  She leaned her forehead against his chest. “This feels strange. Different. How can it feel different? How can I feel shy with you when we’ve known each other for so long?”

  “I don’t know.” He cradled her close. “Maybe it’s because we’re starting again. Maybe it should feel different. We want it to be different.”

  “I feel guilty that we lied to the children, but part of me is wondering whether this would have happened if we hadn’t come here and spent this time together.”

  “I like to think it would, but you’re right that it brought us together. That and your alcohol moment.”

  “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”

  “Never. In fact if we were to renew our vows I’d make you promise to consume a bottle of champagne a night for as long as we both shall live.”

  “We probably wouldn’t live that long if we drank a bottle of champagne a night.” It scared her to think that they might not have reached this point without Rosie’s wedding. And now it seemed the wedding might be canceled. Why was life always so complicated? “We need to get dressed.”

  “Yes.” He kissed her and stepped out of the shower. He knotted a towel around his waist and passed one to her. “I’ll pour coffee.”

  “I would kill for coffee, but get dressed first. We’ve subjected our kids to enough trauma.”

 
He flexed his biceps. “You don’t think it would do them good to see their father in such great physical shape?”

  “Get dressed, Professor.” She sent him a look and he gave her that same cheeky lopsided grin that she’d fallen in love with all those years before.

  He left the bathroom and Maggie wrapped the towel around herself and gazed out the window into the snowy forest.

  She wasn’t getting a divorce. She and Nick were staying married.

  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  She hadn’t even realized this was the outcome she’d wanted, but now she realized she’d wanted it the whole time. She’d missed him. Not the dry, sterile, polite relationship they’d had for the past couple of years, but the warmth, friendship and passion they’d shared before that.

  She brushed at her tears impatiently. Why was she crying? She didn’t even know. Relief, perhaps. Or maybe it was the release of so much emotional and physical tension. Or maybe it was anxiety about her children.

  Weak with gratitude, she dried her hair, dressed quickly and joined Nick in the kitchen.

  “So what do we do?” She took the coffee from him and curled her hands around the mug.

  “We’re going to start by talking about your work, and what you want to do when we get home.”

  “I’ve already told you, I’m too old. And I don’t have the right training.”

  “We can fix the training part. And I don’t think age plays a part.”

  “I think it does. I can’t give up secure employment, spend all that money and time on training, and then find no one will give me a job.”

  “They might give you a job once you have the training.”

  “But we don’t know.”

  “There are no certainties in life, but one thing I know for sure is that we need to make some changes. And you should do something you want to do for a change, no compromises. No making a choice that fits with the family.”