A Wedding in December

“Divorce is part of life. Life happens. Wasn’t that the point you were making earlier?”

“It doesn’t have to happen before what is supposed to be one of the happiest days of our daughter’s life.” She forced down a mouthful of her breakfast and then put her plate down.

“So what are you suggesting?”

“That we act as if nothing has changed.”

“You—” He broke off, bemused. “You want us to attend this wedding together as a couple? Pretending everything is fine?”

“Yes. We present a united front. There will be plenty of time to share our less-than-happy news once the wedding bells have stopped ringing and the snow has melted.”

“To be clear about this, you’re suggesting we ‘act’ married?”

“Well, technically we are married, Nick, so it shouldn’t be much of a challenge to pretend for one week.”

His gaze was steady. “You want us to travel together, share a hotel room—”

“Whatever it takes.” She wasn’t going to offer to relinquish the bed. Nick could sleep anywhere, whether it was a tent in a desert or the hard floor of a hotel room. Maggie could barely doze off if she was lying on a feather-filled mattress, so she didn’t need to make things harder for herself. “It will be easy enough to keep up the pretense. It’s not as if we argue all the time or anything.”

He pushed his plate away. “It doesn’t feel right to lie to them.”

“We’re not lying. We’re withholding our news. We haven’t told them we’ve been living apart for a while. What difference does it make to wait a few more weeks?”

“We haven’t told them because we agreed it was better done face-to-face when we’re all together.”

“You seriously think the right time to announce a divorce is at our daughter’s wedding?”

He sighed. “No, I don’t think that.” There was a long pause. “All right.” The words were dragged from him. “But as soon as they’re back from their honeymoon, we’re telling them.”

“Agreed.” She felt a rush of relief which died as he reached across and dragged her laptop toward him.

“What’s this?”

Why, oh why, hadn’t she closed the browser? “I was finding out a bit about the family.”

He lifted his gaze from the laptop to her face. “You mean you’ve been torturing yourself.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re the same before every college social event. You panic about what you’re going to wear and what people will think of you.”

“That’s called being human.”

“You’re lovely, Maggie.” His voice was rough. “I wish you had more confidence.”

She was a soon-to-be-divorced mother of two grown children who didn’t particularly like the way her life was looking. She thought about the file, safely tucked away in the drawer.

What did she have to feel confident about?

And if he thought she was so lovely, why were they getting divorced?

He tapped the keys and brought up airline details.

“How are we going to transport all the Christmas gifts?” She picked up her coff

ee and sat down next to him. “I won’t be able to carry everything.”

“Take a few key things, and they can have the rest next time they’re here.”