A Wedding In December. Sarah Morgan

pretense. It’s not as if we argue all the time or anything.”

      He pushed his plate away. “It doesn’t feel right to lie to them.”

      “We’re not lying. We’re withholding our news. We haven’t told them we’ve been living apart for a while. What difference does it make to wait a few more weeks?”

      “We haven’t told them because we agreed it was better done face-to-face when we’re all together.”

      “You seriously think the right time to announce a divorce is at our daughter’s wedding?”

      He sighed. “No, I don’t think that.” There was a long pause. “All right.” The words were dragged from him. “But as soon as they’re back from their honeymoon, we’re telling them.”

      “Agreed.” She felt a rush of relief which died as he reached across and dragged her laptop toward him.

      “What’s this?”

      Why, oh why, hadn’t she closed the browser? “I was finding out a bit about the family.”

      He lifted his gaze from the laptop to her face. “You mean you’ve been torturing yourself.”

      “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

      “You’re the same before every college social event. You panic about what you’re going to wear and what people will think of you.”

      “That’s called being human.”

      “You’re lovely, Maggie.” His voice was rough. “I wish you had more confidence.”

      She was a soon-to-be-divorced mother of two grown children who didn’t particularly like the way her life was looking. She thought about the file, safely tucked away in the drawer.

      What did she have to feel confident about?

      And if he thought she was so lovely, why were they getting divorced?

      He tapped the keys and brought up airline details.

      “How are we going to transport all the Christmas gifts?” She picked up her coffee and sat down next to him. “I won’t be able to carry everything.”

      “Take a few key things, and they can have the rest next time they’re here.”

      “I always make them a stocking. And I can’t imagine a tree without all the decorations the girls made over the years. It’s tradition.”

      “So pack them up and bring them.” He glanced up from the screen, seemed about to say something and then changed his mind. “We’ll pay for excess baggage if necessary.”

      Excess baggage. He could have been describing her.

      “I can’t pack our decorations. That would be ridiculous.” She watched, anxious, as he keyed in dates and checked prices. “Is the flight overbooked?”

      “I’m sure you’d like it to be but no, there are two seats left on the early flight. Business class.” He dug into his pocket for his wallet.

      “Nick, we can’t fly business class.”

      “Why not? We deserve a treat.”

      Flying? A treat? The reality of strapping herself into a seat on an airplane and waiting for takeoff loomed in her brain. Her heart started to pound. “It’s an extravagance.”

      “I know you’re scared of flying, but if I don’t book this now you won’t be going to your daughter’s wedding.”

      Maggie moaned and put her head on the table. “How did Christmas turn into this?”

      “They give you free champagne in business. I’ll pour a bottle of that into you before we take off. You won’t feel a thing.”

      Maggie lifted her head. “What did you say to Rosie?”

      “Last night? I can’t recall. You know me. I’m not as good at bouncing awake as you are. It takes me a while to surface. I hope I said the right things.”

      What were the right things? She wasn’t sure. Should she have issued a warning or said congratulations? “She’s so young.”

      “We were young.”

      She was tempted to say and look at how that turned out, but she stopped herself.

      Even though it had ended, their marriage hadn’t been a disaster. Believing that would mean the entire previous thirty-five years had been a mistake, and it hadn’t been. They’d had many happy years which was, perhaps, why she felt so sad about everything. It was messy, but life was messy wasn’t it? Full of good and bad, ups and downs, triumph and disappointment.

      Part of her felt that somehow, they should have been able to make this work.

      “Your mother tried to stop us getting married. She was very disapproving. She thought I was too serious.”

      “She’d never seen you after a bottle of sloe gin, and I’ve told you before that she never approved of any of the women I dated. She was afraid they’d take her little boy away.” He stretched out his legs. “Yours wasn’t much better.”

      “They wanted me to marry someone with a regular job. They were suspicious of your trips to Egypt, and the fact that your hair fell over your collar. It all seems so long ago, I can barely remember it although it was stressful at the time.”

      “We did what felt right for us. We didn’t listen to our parents and Rosie and Dan won’t listen to us either, so there’s no point in wondering whether we should say something. We made our own decision, and now we should leave our daughter to make hers.”

      “That’s very mature and rational.” She topped up their mugs and sat down next to him. “Talking of mature and rational, I spoke to someone about selling the cottage last week. I was thinking we should put it on the market after Christmas, but their advice was to wait until spring. That would give us time to do some of the repairs, and make sure it’s looking its best. The garden is always gorgeous in May.” It should be. She’d spent hours on it. It was something that was all hers. Somewhere she felt calm. Whenever she was stressed, she went outdoors and tended the garden. The upside of her anxiety was that her garden looked fantastic.

      Nick spooned sugar into his coffee and gave her a long look. “You’re sure you want to sell the place?”

      No, she didn’t want to sell it. Selling it would break her heart. “It’s too big for one person. I’m rattling around here. And not only me. The windows rattle. There’s so much maintenance needed in an old place like this.”

      “Remember the first time we saw it? You said this is it. This is the one. We hadn’t even taken a look inside.”

      “I knew. I knew right away.” She glanced around the kitchen that had been the set for so many family dramas. “You thought a new build would be less work.”

      “It would have been less work, but also would have lacked character.”

      “I’m starting to think ‘character’ is a euphemism for ‘old and in need of repair.’ So you’re happy for me to put it on the market whenever they feel the time is right?”

      His gaze was veiled. “Whatever works for you.”

      They were so polite. Civilized. There was no awkwardness or animosity. They were simply two friends who had lost the chemistry. She stared hard at his jaw, at the curve between his neck and shoulder where she’d so often rested her head. When he’d come back from a long trip it had been like those early days of their relationship, the passion between them intense and all-consuming.

       Where had those feelings gone?

      She stood up suddenly, her chair scraping on the stone floor. “That’s what I’ll do, then. It’s been a lovely home for us, but it’s time to move on.” Time for her to move on,