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“Chemistry?”
“Let’s just say they’re not indifferent to each other, and I can’t believe you haven’t noticed that.”
“What can I say? My brain has been full of my own romantic issues, and intrigue is definitely not my area of expertise. I need coffee. Maybe then I’ll be able to process this. Go to the girls.” He sounded tired. “I know you want to, and it’s fine.” He walked to the kitchen and she watched him go, torn in two. How many times had she put the girls first? The answer was every time. She hadn’t nurtured her marriage, assuming with a flagrant carelessness that it didn’t need tending and would be fine. Neglected, it had withered, but apparently it hadn’t died. New shoots were visible, and there was definitely life in their relationship. But not if they were simply going to carry on as they had before.
She wanted to go to the girls. She wanted to dress their wounds, hug them tightly and help them heal. She could tell herself that this was a crisis moment, that they needed her now, and that next time she’d take a step back. But there would always be a crisis, wouldn’t there? That was life. There were always explosions, whichever path you walked.
And Nick was right. They were adults now. They needed to find a way to deal with their own problems. If they wanted to come to her, they’d come to her.
She slid out of bed, ignoring the almost physical pull to go to her children.
And it wasn’t only the girls of course. What about Catherine? She’d put so much effort into making this the perfect wedding and right now it didn’t look as if it would happen.
She reached for her phone and then put it down again. Catherine probably needed time to process what had happened, too. It would be fine to call later.
She slipped on a robe and walked to the living room.
“You’re right, this time I’m putting us first. If the girls want us, they can call.”
He paused, a mug in one hand and the jug of coffee in the other. “I understand if you want to go to them, Mags.”
“I don’t.” She was sure of it now. “They’re important, but we’re equally important. I don’t want to lose this, Nick. I’m not even sure what ‘this’ is, but I want to give it the attention it deserves.” She needed to know she’d done everything she could to hold on to this marriage that was so precious to her. How could she have let something so special go without a fight? How could she?
He held her gaze and she saw something in his eyes she hadn’t seen in a long time. Something that was hers alone. Something that no one else could share. After so many months unable to reconnect with the man she’d married, she’d finally found him. And she wasn’t letting him go.
“I’ll take a shower while you’re making coffee.” She turned and walked into the bathroom, wondering how it was possible to feel light and heavy at the same time. She was worried about the girls, but that didn’t take away the memory of the night before and the hope for the future that was wrapping itself around her like a hug.
Her feet were bare and she pressed them into the heated floor. Maybe they needed to refit the bathroom in Honeysuckle Cottage.
She realized that she and Nick hadn’t even mentioned the house in their discussions. There were so many things they hadn’t talked about. But it would happen, she knew it would. This wasn’t an ending, it was a new beginning.
Katie walking in when they’d been talking about divorce had shaken them both.
There had been a moment of panic. A moment when both of them had focused on their eldest daughter and her feelings. After they’d realized she wasn’t going to pick up her phone and talk to them, they’d been forced to talk to each other. Not a fake interchange, like the ones they’d been having since they’d stepped off the plane in Denver, but an honest discussion. They’d talked about the day he’d made the decision to move out, a decision she hadn’t challenged, and they’d traced the loose thread of their relationship back until they could identify when the first holes had appeared in the fabric of their marriage. They saw that a series of wrong choices had brought them here, choices that at the time had seemed so trivial they hadn’t even registered. The late-night tea she’d refused when he’d returned from one of his trips, because she was tired. His decision to sleep in the spare room when she was up and down in the night with Rosie. The dinners out she’d refused because she was afraid to leave Rosie with a babysitter. The time they’d synchronized calendars to make sure all home and family obligations were covered, but hadn’t put in time for themselves. Each seemingly insignificant choice had eroded their time together. At some point he’d taken her hand, and still they’d talked. She acknowledged that her life had become consumed by the girls, that Rosie’s frequent trips to the hospital had caused her more anxiety than she’d admitted. He’d confessed to guilt that she’d handled that anxiety alone, and he’d acknowledged that he’d let work overwhelm family life. The touching, the physical contact, had been gradual. A lacing of fingers, a hand on a thigh, an arm around a shoulder and then finally the connection had become more intimate. Lips, hands, bodies. The past had retreated as they’d focused on the moment and gradually stitched together all the threads that had been untangled. Under the sparkle of Christmas tree lights, he’d led her to the bedroom, undressing her on the way. The way he’d touched her had felt familiar and yet new.
Would that even have happened if Katie hadn’t walked in when she did and overheard them talking?
Maggie turned on the shower and stepped under the jets of water.
She was anxious and a little sad, so how could she also be feeling happy?
She was thinking about Nick’s hands on her body when she heard a sound and
then felt his actual hands on her body.
She gasped, opened her eyes and almost drowned. “What? You’re supposed to be making coffee.”
He flashed her a smile and wiped the water from her face. “Coffee is brewing. No sense in taking two showers. This is the eco version.”
“It’s daylight.”
“Why do you think I’m here? You look cute when you’re wet, have I told you that?”
“Cute is for twenty-year-olds.” She felt ridiculously self-conscious.
“I can promise you it isn’t.” He lowered his head and kissed her neck and then her shoulder.
Her heart kicked up a few paces, but this time reality kept her feet on solid ground. “Nick, we can’t—the girls—seriously—after what just happened?”
