The Mrs. Clause by Evie Mitchell

Author:Evie Mitchell [Mitchell, Evie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thunder Thighs Publishing

6

Collins

I stood in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror. I pressed palms to my flushed cheeks, my gaze taking in my mussed hair and my swollen lips. A hickey slowly coloured on my collarbone while my butt throbbed, feeling slightly raw.

That's because you let your estranged husband fuck you senseless on a wooden entry table.

I blew out a sigh, closing my eyes and dropping my head. None of this was turning out how I expected. Nick had led me to the bedroom—our bedroom. It looked as if I had only left yesterday. Not a single thing had changed in the five years I'd been gone. Even my clothes, the ones I'd abandoned all those years ago, remained in place.

I'd absently dressed, pulling on clothing that hadn't been worn in years. The clothes were tight but would do until I returned to my hotel. Nick hadn't stayed to explain why he still had my things. He'd simply left me to clean up while he went to make a phone call.

Gathering myself, I pushed away from the vanity, going in search of Nick. As I walked through the house we'd shared, I was struck by the sameness of it all. Nearly every painting, portrait, curtain, or piece of furniture that I'd purchased remained.

Our wedding picture still hung in the hall. The giant vase I'd found in a market in Florence still graced the dining room table. Even the house plants I'd purchased decorated corners and shelves, looking large and healthy.

I'd assumed Nick had wanted me gone. I'd assumed he would have used my leaving as an opportunity to scrub me from his life. Instead, I'd returned to what felt like—a shrine. The only difference between that day and now appeared to be the decorations scattered about the house. Mistletoe and baubles, holly, and candy canes. Mrs. Mackenzie's doing, I was sure.

I found Nicholas in the kitchen, frying something in a pan.

"Hey," he nodded at the seats on the other side of the island. "Take a seat. You want some wine?"

I padded over, settling at the bench. "No, thanks." I patted my stomach. "I'm abstaining from alcohol while trying to—"

The words died on my tongue.

He nodded, turning back to the pan and giving it a quick flick, flipping the pieces of meat sizzling in the pan. "I should have asked you if there's anything you can't eat while we're trying." He looked over his shoulder at me, a frown marring his face. "I was just going to finish this risotto, but if you can't eat it, I can—"

"I'm good for the moment," I assured him, feeling touched by his concern. "Once we get pregnant, that's when all the food limitations really kick in."

He nodded, turning back to stir a second pot. When satisfied, he moved to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of soda and handing it over.

I sipped it, watching him navigate the kitchen, adding salt, and preparing our meal. A warmth that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with this man settled in my chest.

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