A Wedding in December

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.”