A Wedding in December by Sarah Morgan

Author:Sarah Morgan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HQN Books
Published: 2019-07-18T13:42:04+00:00

Maggie

“I am soaked through and freezing and it’s all your fault. Did you have to push that last snowball right down my front?” Maggie shivered as she stripped off her outer layers. She was cold but buzzing. She felt more alive than she had in years. For a moment back there by the lake with the sun beaming down on them, she’d thought about nothing but the fun of the moment. The impulse. The delicious rush of semifear as Nick had chased her across the snow, and the laughter. Her ribs still ached from the laughter. “I can’t believe we did that.” She was too old to have snow melting down the inside of her jacket.

“Had a snowball fight?”

“We’ve never done anything like that before.”

“We’ve never had snow like this before.” Nick pulled off his boots. “Blue skies and sparkling snow bring out my inner child.”

She knew it was more than that.

When had they last had fun like that together? When had they last laughed hard at something?

Life had become a series of tasks to be completed, to-do lists to make, places to be.

“Did we embarrass our girls?”

“Probably, but isn’t that what parents are for?” He hung up his coat. “And it was no more embarrassing than you kissing me and talking second honeymoons.”

“That’s different. That was done for a purpose.” She handed him her jacket and pulled off her boots. The snow had seeped through every layer of clothing, and now her sweater and her thermal top stuck uncomfortably to her body. She tugged them away from her skin. “This was spontaneous. We behaved like children.”

“Maybe. Or maybe we behaved like adults without responsibilities. Which makes a nice change. I haven’t heard you laugh like that in a long time. Let me help you with that—” He reached out and pulled off her damp sweater, resisting its attempts to cling to her soaked arms.

And suddenly she was standing in front of him wearing nothing but her borrowed pair of ski pants and her bra.

The change in his expression reminded her that the bra was the one Catherine had chosen, the one she’d initially rejected for its decadent lace embellishments and general unsuitability for this stage of her life. She’d purchased it because it felt luxurious against her skin, and because she wasn’t a match for Catherine’s persuasive powers.

She hadn’t thought anyone but her would see it. Or perhaps, on some level she hadn’t examined her reasons too closely. It had been an act of defiance, a way of proving to herself that although her marriage might be dead, she wasn’t. That she should look at the miles ahead of her, not the mileage behind.

But she hadn’t intended to be standing in front of him wearing nothing but lace.

“I lost my suitcase—” It seemed imperative that she remind him of that fact, in case he was thinking she’d bought it to seduce him. Even as the thought went through her head, she dismissed it as ridiculous. You couldn’t seduce a man you’d been with for more than thirty years.

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