Hot Christmas Nights

by Rachel Bailey

  And yes, it was a good idea, but he had his support network here. He knew he could fight his demons here, with his friends, but somewhere else? That took more than a leap of faith. Panic set up a drumbeat in his heart. “I haven’t got a job there. And I have a good one here, a job I like. A lot. I can’t just leave.”

  She frowned. “You can.”

  “It’s not that easy. I have a network here, friends. A life.”

  But not a wife. She was telling him they could take a chance, and it was all he’d ever dreamed about. All he’d wanted since the second she’d walked out the door. So this made everything so much harder, because he couldn’t go to Australia with her. Reality broke into the fantasy and smashed it to smithereens. Sure, he wanted to haul her against him and breathe her in. To lie with her, to wake up with her.

  Here.

  Was that too goddamned selfish? Yes. But he knew he could be a good man here—he’d been working on it for long enough—he just didn’t know if he could do it somewhere else.

  So he had to tell her the truth and not hide behind weak excuses. “Emma, listen; truth is, I don’t know who I’d be in Brisbane. I have changed and I work damned hard at being someone different, but part of me is still the man I was. I’ve built a stronghold of support here. I still struggle, I won’t lie to you. I’m still the guy who turned to booze for comfort. The one who pushed you away.”

  “Like you’re doing right now?” He watched her straighten, saw the determination to fight for what she wanted. That’s my girl. “Then, perhaps I could…maybe I could stay? Here?”

  Whoa. He closed his eyes. “And have you regret that every day for the rest of your life?” Give up her fabulous job, curb her dreams, for him?

  No. He wasn’t even going to consider it. When he opened his eyes again she was looking up at him and waiting for him to say yes—he could tell, and that made it a million times worse. “No sweetheart; you have big dreams and you need to live them. I will not have you changing things for me, you hear? I will not clip your wings—”

  “Oi! Danny boy! Where are you? You driving me home or what?” Bas’s voice split the air and they both turned towards the gate.

  Dan started toward the gate, he’d never felt so deflated, so damned hollow in his life. “We have to get going. Big day tomorrow.”

  “So that’s it, then.” Her voice wobbled and she grabbed his arm, frustrated and sad and disappointed. And she was not going to let that tear edging over her eyelid anywhere near her cheek. She smeared it away and looked at him, her voice a whisper, resigned. “That’s it? The end?”

  She let go and paced softly across the tiny space and back again, her fists clenched, her voice rising. “It’s so unfair, so bloody cruel. I have all these crazy feelings for you and they just won’t go away, it doesn’t matter what I do; go away, come back, hate you—at least try to hate you—they’re all still there in my heart.” She turned away, her fist against her chest. Her back was rigid and she was fighting…he didn’t know exactly what. Fear? Hope? Agreeing to something she’d later regret?

  I love you. The words nearly rolled off his tongue. But he held them in, because what was the point of causing more pain? He loved her. He had never stopped loving her, but this wasn’t their time.

  There was a boulder in his throat, but he pushed past it, turning her to face him. He dredged a smile and made his voice as determined and as hopeful as he could. “So, you’re going to rock Brisbane. You’re going to develop more weird accents and get a fantastic tan. You’re going to be a fabulous GP tending the sick and the wounded and you’ll be world famous for fighting off man-eating spiders and snakes.”

  Taking his lead she bit her bottom lip, and gave a very wobbly smile. Tears finally fell and God his heart was smashed to pieces again that he’d done that to her. But better now than a month, or a year down the line. “And you can deliver more babies singlehandedly, and dance your socks off on the police float and save puppies and have a happy life. Here.”

  He doubted that very much. A world without Emma would be empty of joy, of light. A thick weight crushed his chest. He couldn’t believe he’d convinced her to go. But it was the right thing to do. For them both. Even if it didn’t feel like it right now.

  As they reached the hotel entrance he couldn’t help but haul her against his chest and hold her tight. Breathing her in. Committing to memory the way she felt in his arms, the way she smelt, the way she fit so perfectly against him. Listening to her ragged breath. Loving her again.

  I love you.

  Had never stopped loving her—which was why he wouldn’t let her give up her dreams. She had a romantic notion of the way their life could be, but real life wasn’t like that. It was messy and chaotic and on some days it was a real struggle. For him, at least. She deserved so much better than that. Which was why he was letting her go. Again.

  And damn it. Damn it all to hell, he needed a drink. And quick.

  Emma lay awake listening to Megan’s gentle snores and tried hard to stay calm. The tears were just about dried up, but her throat was raw, like her eyes. He’d gone. Left her. Which was ironic, but she supposed it was his bloody turn. She’d come for a confirmation that it was over—and that was what she’d got.

  Happy Christmas-here’s a divorce.

  It was the sensible thing to do…he was right, and he’d been so gentle and so caring, putting her needs first. They couldn’t travel and stay in one place, she had a job and he had his support network. They both had to do what they needed to do. It was the right thing, but it all felt deeply, deeply wrong.

  Too wired for any kind of sleep she rolled over, sat up. Lay back down.

  When she’d kissed him she’d felt more at home than she’d ever done, being in his arms had felt the most natural thing in the world. And exciting. And scary. And calming and comforting. All the things that love is.

  Did she love him?

  She hoped not. Truly hoped not, because getting over him once had been hard enough. But she had a bad feeling she did love him and had never really stopped.

  And that would explain why she couldn’t make a relationship work with anyone else. It would also explain the pain that had lodged deep in her heart and spread slowly over the last few hours to every pore in her body.

  Yes, she still loved him so, so much it hurt. And he expected her to walk away again. He expected her to agree—but what choice did she have?

  And she hoped like hell that this wouldn’t push him over the edge again. She’d make sure to ask Megan to keep an eye on him while she was gone…like last time.

  But no, it wasn’t like last time. Everything had changed. She had changed, she wasn’t the selfish rich-bitch any more. She’d lived through adversity, she’d seen people fight for their children, fight for their lives, fight for people they loved. She’d come out having learnt that the only thing important in life was being with people you love.

  And he was sober. He was a good man who stuck to his principles—he wouldn’t offer her dreams if he couldn’t follow through. He was a bloody good man and she did love him; she loved him with all her heart.

  With a jolt, Emma sat up. He was her husband; years ago she’d promised to love Daniel Wade regardless of what fate threw at them. So she was going to put him first. She was going to fight.

  The only problem would be convincing him.

  Through the darkness she found her phone and sent him a text. You awake?

  He answered immediately. Yeah. It’s late, what’s wrong? You okay?

  That lump stuck in her throat. He was worried about her. He’d put her needs first and he was worried about her. Yeah, definitely a keeper. I need to talk to you.

  Now? Why? It’s 3 in the morning? Tell me you’re okay?

  Her fingers shook as she typed. No, I’m not okay. But I think I know how I can be.

  I’ll pick you up in fifteen

  Ten?

  He made it in five.

  Unsure what the rules were about sneaking abo
ut in the middle of the night with her estranged husband, Emma jumped into his truck and decided she didn’t give a damn about rules. Or anything else. The only thing she cared about was telling him her truth.

  Before he pulled the truck onto the road he turned to her, his face was all shadows and darkness, lost and desolate. So despite his brave act earlier, he was hurting too. “So, what’s this about, Emma?”

  She didn’t know how to put all the feelings swirling through her into words. But she resisted the urge to blurt everything out, because she needed to convince him, logically and calmly, that they could work this out together. That their marriage vows still meant something. That they were worth something. “Can we just go home?”

  “Home?” His eyes flickered something she couldn’t read—wary? Guarded. But he shrugged and nodded and steered the car onto the road toward their house. He’d changed clothes; into jeans and a grey T-shirt and if she wasn’t mistaken there was distinct smell of shower gel.

  He pulled up outside their house and dragged on the handbrake. But he didn’t move, didn’t look at her and just stared out the front window. “Before we say or do anything else I need to tell you something, Em.”

  Panic rolled through her. “What? What is it?”

  His voice was flat. “I needed a drink. Earlier. So badly I was scared.”

  No. She closed her eyes and prayed. Please, no. “Did you—”

  He looked down at his hands. “No.”

  “Thank God.” It was more a sigh than words. And it was a start; he was being up front with her and honest about what he’d needed. She just wished it had been her and not alcohol, but he’d dealt with it. She’d never known him to be able to rise above the relentless craving before. “You did good, Dan. How did you stop it?”

  “I think I went a little crazy.” He laughed—it was soft and almost bemused. “I ran. And thought things through.” He finally turned to look at her. “What is it that you want?”

  You. Us. All the cravings from earlier flooded her body. He was here. He hadn’t had a drink. He’d taken control of whatever shit was roaring through him. He was a good man. She needed to convince him that she was a good enough woman too. Good enough to stand by him, strong enough to weather whatever life threw at them, good enough to trust his heart to her again.

  “Can we go inside?”

  “Sure.” He went to open the car door, but paused. “I…er, I guess you could say I’ve been busy. Don’t be too shocked.”

  “By what?”

  “You’ll see.”

  He seemed nervous as he took her hand, opened the door and ushered her in. Immediately she set foot in the house she stopped sharp and stared at the whisky bottle on the table. “Dan, what the hell is this?”

  “A damned fine and very expensive twelve year old malt whisky. It’s mine, I bought it. Earlier.” It sounded weak, but not opening it was the strongest he’d been. So he’d left it there, a symbol of how far he’d come. Despite having it in the house he felt pretty damned proud of himself.

  Emma picked it up and examined it, mistrust rippling off her. “But you didn’t drink it?”

  “No. You can see it’s unopened.” He shook his head, tired of the distractions. Wanting to stop the talking and take her to bed. To their bed. One last time. But that was his stupid broken heart leading him and he’d done one other thing today that made him proud—he’d let her go. “It’s late, Em. I’ve got to be on top form tomorrow for my mate’s big day. If you’re just here to ask questions or check up on me, then can we leave it until after the wedding? I’m fine.”

  Her hands shook as she put the bottle down. “Danny, I’m not going to go to Brisbane.”

  Confusion shook through him, along with a kernel of hope. If she wasn’t going…? But this was Emma, she was a global gypsy with the traveling bug. “Why not? Got a better offer?”

  “No, but I’m hoping to.”

  She walked to him, her hands out. When she reached him she took both his hands in hers. “Daniel Wade, I want to stay here with you. I mean, for real. Forever. I shouldn’t have left you last time, I should have stayed. Now I’m going to. I’m going to stay here.”

  “Oh no.” He let go of her hands as if they were hot cakes. “I won’t have you giving your dreams up for me. I told you that already. You have to go to Brisbane. I won’t hear another word about it.”

  Instead of the anger he expected, she smiled. “Oh, yes you bloody well will. You said that if I stayed it would clip my wings. But I don’t want to fly anywhere on my own—there isn’t a place I’d rather be than here. With you.”

  “You’ll regret it. I can’t live with that.” If she did come to regret her choice, and to resent him, it would tear him apart more than the alcohol ever had. He couldn’t do that to her, or to himself.

  She smiled even more now. “How could I ever regret you? You are strong and tough and will fight for those you love—and for those you don’t even know. You’ve had a difficult struggle and you’ve come out more whole, more amazing than anyone I’ve ever known. I’m proud to know you. I’m more than proud to be your wife.” And before he knew it she was tiptoeing up and pressing a kiss to his mouth.

  For a second he almost thought it could be perfect before cold reality smashed its way into his consciousness. He pulled away. “You’ll be hard pushed to get a job on the island.”

  “I can commute to the city.”

  “This place is too small for you, you’ll get bored.”

  “I can think of plenty of ways to keep me amused.” Now she started to pull at his T-shirt and God knew she was certainly making a lot of sense—some of the time. His body reacted immediately with a hot jolt of need.

  But his hand stilled hers. “No. Seriously, I can’t let you do this.”

  She stroked her palm across his chest, then let it rest over his heart. “I love you, Danny. It’s not a case of letting me do anything. And you can’t make me leave either. We all have choices. You could have opened that bottle tonight but you chose not to, right?”

  “I guess. But it wasn’t easy. You need to know that.”

  She pursed her lips. “If that’s some cock-eyed way of warning me that you’re going to fall off the wagon then go ahead. Say what you like. But your words mean nothing when your actions speak so loudly. You chose to get well. You chose not to slug that whisky. And I’m choosing to stay. I’m choosing you.”

  Could she be any more perfect? His heart swelled until he could barely breathe. He was done with being scared, of defining himself by who he had been, not who he was now. He was going to take that leap of faith and trust that he could be the man she thought he was. The man he knew he was. Especially with her by his side.

  He grabbed hold of her other hand too and made sure to look right at her. “You said you loved me?”

  “I do. I always have. I just wish I’d stayed last time—”

  “I love you too.” He wasn’t sure what else she was going to say because he closed his mouth over hers and showed her just how much he did love her.

  Eventually he stepped back, just to see her. He hauled in oxygen and then told her what he’d been wanting to say since he’d seen her at Bas’s house. “You need to know I have fought my damned demons every day for almost fifteen months and I can’t promise there won’t be times when I want a drink. But I promise I’ll fight with everything I’ve got not to have one. And I’ll talk to you, Emma. I won’t push you away. I’m through with that.”

  “Damn right you are.”

  “And I’m not stupid to think that everything will miraculously get better straight away. I made a huge mess of things and I made some pretty bad choices, but the best one I ever made was to love you. I always have and I always will. I promise you that, if you let me, I’ll make those bad days up to you or I’ll die trying. I love you. I love you so much.”

  Her hand was on the hem of his T-shirt again. “So, do we get to spend the night in our bed?”

  “One more thing…” He fe
lt a laugh rise from deep in his gut. “I…er… well, I was out there tonight on the road and got to thinking about the things I hadn’t given you, the joy we’d missed out on so, well…” He felt like a prize idiot, but it had felt symbolic when he’d done it. Reclaiming his joy, and letting go of his tainted past. “This way—”

  He led her into the lounge. “Okay. Merry Christmas, Emma.”

  For a moment she just stared. And he had to admit it looked pretty damned fine. If not a little over the top gaudy for his liking. But this wasn’t about him and never would be from this moment onwards. He knew she’d be soft for a room decorated in more tinsel than he’d ever seen in his life, white fairy lights cascading down the walls, a Christmas tree in the window with bells and baubles and some of her sentimental stuff that she’d lifted out each year and that he’d kept in the spare room.

  Her hand was at her mouth. “Oh, my God. It’s beautiful.”

  So yes. It was definitely all about her. “I reckoned you’d like the silver and green theme.”

  “I love it. Oh, my God, Danny. I adore it.” She reached up and kissed him on the cheek and he thought then that if she left him and broke his heart for a second and irreparable time, that it was worth everything just to see her face, like this.

  “I never celebrated the things you love. I almost ruined your Christmas today. But I didn’t want you to look back on this Christmas Eve and only remember the bad things. I want you to remember that you are loved. Adored. Worshipped. Totally, and completely. More than anything.”

  “Oh, Danny, you said you were no good at this kind of thing, but I will certainly never forget this. But when…? How…?”

  “I told you, I ran. Sometimes it’s a good way of getting rid of the cravings. I ran until the road stopped and then turned back towards home. I ran past the late night store and I went in to get some booze. I won’t lie. That was my plan. Then I saw the decorations in the window. Who knew that Christmas decorations were the best distraction therapy ever? Happy Christmas, Emma.”