A Wedding in December

He held her gaze. “Do the training. Get the qualification.”

“I’m too old.”

He raised an eyebrow. “If you can learn to drive a sled pulled by huskies, I’m sure you can learn garden design. That lead dog was a character.”

“He was adorable.”

Nick sat down on the sofa and put his mug on the low table. “You don’t have to factor in the kids anymore, Maggie. They have their own lives. Katie’s career is going well and Rosie has only just started her postgrad and is about to be married. Time to think about yourself.”

“What about the cost? I wouldn’t only lose my income, I’d be out of pocket. That sort of course would cost a fortune.”

“We have the money, Mags. We can afford it.”

Should she point out that they were no longer a “we”? “A divorce is expensive. Lawyers. Two properties. Two sets of bills.”

His eyes darkened. “We’ll find the money for this. It’s about priorities.”

Her heart softened. Another man might have fought hard to keep as many of his assets as possible. Nick wanted her to do a course that would be of no benefit to him whatsoever.

“And what if I do the course, get the qualification, and then can’t get a job? What a waste of money that would be.”

“Maybe you’d enjoy the process, in which case the money wouldn’t be wasted. And maybe you would get a job. There are no guarantees, unless you don’t do it in which case it’s pretty much guaranteed that you won’t be a garden designer. Promise me you’ll think about it.”

“I’ll think about it.” She finished her coffee. “I suppose we should get some sleep if we’re to be up and about for tomorrow’s romantic challenge.”

He finished his coffee and stood up. “I enjoyed tonight, Mags.”

“Me too.”

“I’ll make up the sofa. Unless you think the girls might pay us an impromptu visit before we go to sleep. Do you think we should share the bed, to be safe?” There was a tense, awkward pause and for a moment his gaze met hers. Her skin tingled, and she thought back to the moment after the snowball fight.

Only a few days before, the future and

her feelings had been clear, but now suddenly everything was tangled and murky. If they shared a bed it would become more complicated. And it didn’t feel safe.

She was the one who had started this. She’d insisted that they keep up this pretense, and at first it hadn’t seemed a hardship. But she’d been thinking only of the girls, and now suddenly, she could think only of herself.

Something had changed in her. Shifted.

“I don’t think that’s necessary. We already agreed to meet over at the lodge for breakfast at ten tomorrow. They have no reason to come here. I’ll fetch the bedding,” she said. “I put it away in the basket upstairs so that the girls didn’t see it.”

She busied herself making up the couch, plumping pillows and tucking in blankets. This part she was good at. The practical stuff was easy. It soothed her and calmed her.

“Good night, Nick.” She smiled and walked to the bedroom, hoping she looked more composed than she felt.

By the time she’d finished in the bathroom, he’d turned the lights out in the living room.

From her vantage point on the shelf she could see his bulk curled up on the sofa.

She felt a shimmer of emotion that she didn’t fully understand. They’d had more honest exchanges in the past couple of days than they’d had in the past couple of years. Would it have made a difference if they’d had those conversations sooner?

Telling herself that it didn’t matter, she slid into bed and propped an extra pillow under her head so that she could watch the snow falling. There was something calming and hypnotic about that silent swirl of flakes, blurring the edges of the world outside.

At some point her eyes drifted shut and she dreamed of walking through the snow hand in hand with Nick.

When she woke the fire had gone out, and the snow had stopped. Sunlight poked its way through the trees. The delicious aroma of fresh coffee told her that Nick was already up and around.

Pulling on a robe, Maggie went down to the kitchen and poured two mugs of coffee.