A Wedding in December

“You’re the professor.”

“You’re the professor of life.” He glanced back at the paper. “Want to hear the rest?”

“There’s more? Please tell me we’re not white-water rafting. The power shower was enough for me.”

“Tomorrow morning you’re up at dawn, joining Catherine for a spa morning. Hair, nails, massage and pampering.”

“Dawn? I’m not sure I like the sound of that. What are you doing while I’m putting my back into relaxation?”

“I can choose between a massage and a few hours at leisure. I think I’ll choose the leisure. There’s a book on the shelves I’d like to dip into.”

“I hate you.”

“After that we’re going up on a gondola to the top of the mountain for lunch.”

“A gondola? Is this Venice?”

“A gondola is a ski lift.”

“What happens after lunch? Or is that the end of our second honeymoon?” She saw Nick’s expression change. “Nick?”

“The suggestion is quiet time back in the tree house.”

“Quiet—?” Maggie gasped. “You mean sex?”

“I’m guessing that’s what she has in mind.”

“Is there a hidden camera somewhere? Is someone going to watch us? Tick it off the list?” She closed her eyes. “I am never telling a lie again. From now on it’s the truth all the way, no matter who it upsets.”

“We can talk about that later, but in the meantime we have to get ready for sledding. According to the brochure, it’s something we’re never going to forget.”

Maggie didn’t have any trouble believing that.

Spending time getting up close and personal with Nick hadn’t been on her agenda.

It wasn’t real, she reminded herself. All this was still part of the pretense.

Katie

Katie stood self-consciously while the woman fussed over the dress she was trying on.

“It’s a little loose. Your measurements have changed since you sent them to Rosie.”

Katie smoothed the fabric over her hips. “I may have lost weight. Sometimes I forget to eat

when I’m working.”

Rosie shook her head in disbelief. “I hear people say that and I don’t get it. I have never forgotten to eat in my life. How does that even happen?”

“Sometimes I’m too busy, and sometimes the stuff I see puts me off my food.”

“Katie is a trauma doctor,” Catherine explained to the seamstress. “This woman is a heroine.”

“Not a heroine.” Katie wriggled, as uncomfortable about the conversation as she was about the dress. “It’s a job.”

“It’s so much more than that. Your mother told me all about how you wanted to be a doctor from the moment Rosie had her first asthma attack. She’s proud of you. Thank goodness there are people like you in the world.” Catherine leaned forward to pinch some fabric over her hip. “I think we could take it in here.”

Katie had never felt less like a heroine.