Once Upon a December: A Holiday Short Story Collection (5 page)

“I bet she’d love to hear it.”

Ethan noticed her wistful tone, and it made his heart ache.

“She probably would. You . . . sound as if you have some experience with this.”

Melanie twirled the platinum band on her finger. It was a nervous habit that had come along within the past few months. Her psychiatrist found it interesting, spewing some nonsense about how Melanie obviously found a sense of peace in the diamond on her hand. That perhaps the ring served as a reminder of a happier time.

Melanie hated her shrink.

“Our situations are similar,” she said quietly. “My husband isn’t a bad man. We avoid each other like the plague, because that’s what our marriage has become. We barely talk, and when we do, it always ends in a fight. We don’t touch. Kiss. Hug.”

Ethan nodded grimly. He didn’t even bother to ask about sex. He knew.

It was nonexistent.

“I love my husband. We’ve just . . . lost our way, I guess. And I don’t know that we can ever get back on track.”

“But you
were
happy?”

“At one time, yes.”

Ethan sighed heavily and gazed at the woman.

“I was happy, too,” he said. “I can still remember the first time I saw her. She was wearing a bulky college sweatshirt. Hair in a ponytail. Chewing on the end of her pen while listening intently to the professor. And all I could do was stare, because she was so pretty. She still is. She is still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Melanie couldn’t help but smile.

“I was taking a creative writing class, and he needed an easy elective,” she said. “We fell hard, very quickly. He has this dimple in his chin that made every girl on campus swoon, but for some reason, he chose me. We got married as soon as we graduated. I started editing children’s books, and he began working at his dad’s law firm. Now, he’s a partner. Someday, the entire company will belong to him, and I don’t care. I never cared about the money or prestige. All I ever wanted was a happy marriage.” She laughed, but there wasn’t a trace of humor in her voice. “I just bought a ten-thousand dollar watch for my husband, and it’s quite possibly the same watch I bought him last year. I can’t even remember the kind of watch my husband snaps on his wrist each morning.
That’s
how little contact we have.”

Ethan glanced at his own bag. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that his wife might already own the expensive wallet he had originally chosen. In a brief moment of what he
hoped
was brilliance, he’d returned the wallet and headed to the jewelry department instead.

“My wife and I have a beautiful home in a gated community, filled with priceless works of art that I never look at because I just don’t care. Money was never important to me, but we had . . . expectations placed upon us. Today, there isn’t a piece of fabric in my closet that doesn’t have a designer label, and I drive an imported sports car that costs more than most people make in four years. And I don’t care. I never cared about any of that. All I want is my wife back.”

During the conversation, their bodies had drifted just a little closer. The man’s proximity was making Melanie’s pulse race.

“What makes you stay?” Ethan asked gently. “Why not leave him? He deserves it.”

“I love my husband. That has never changed.”

“
Something
changed.”

A tear slipped down her cheek as they gazed into each other’s eyes. She hated him for making her talk about this. Why now? Why tonight? While they were trapped in an elevator on Christmas Eve? She had spent so many months trying to forget. To block the images and sounds and emotions from that one night that had changed their lives forever.

“I lost our baby,” she whispered through her tears. “How could he ever forgive me for that?”

An anguished Ethan closed his eyes. “And you think he blames you?”

“I
know
he blames me. Why wouldn’t he? And now he’s stuck in a marriage with a woman who can never give him a biological child.”

“Maybe he blames himself,” Ethan said, his voice shaking with emotion. “Maybe he thinks he should have taken better care of you. If he’d worked a little less and loved you a little more. Maybe if he’d read the stupid baby books . . .”

Quiet sobs wracked her body as she recalled that night. The cramps. The blood. The mad rush to the emergency room. The confirmation from the doctor that their baby was gone, and there was no chance for another.

Melanie wept uncontrollably as Ethan pulled her into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured against her hair. “I love you. I never stopped loving you. Not for a minute.”

She melted against him as he held her tight. She’d missed the warmth of his arms. How long had it been since he’d held her this way? How long since he’d touched her at all?

Ethan trailed his hand soothingly along her spine. He’d missed her sweet smell and the way her body fit perfectly in his arms.

He had missed his wife.

After the miscarriage, he’d had no idea how to comfort her. No idea how to deal with the mood swings and bitterness and the absolute refusal to talk about whatever she was feeling. Anything he said had been wrong, and every suggestion he made was met with resistance. It had taken Melanie’s mother to convince her to see a grief counselor, and that had helped some, but the damage to their marriage was done. Because his home was in shambles, he had devoted his life to his father’s company, neglecting his wife for far too long. Ethan knew that Melanie had felt responsible for the miscarriage—despite Dr. Lange’s explanation that she wasn’t to blame—but it never occurred to Ethan that she needed the real reassurance to come from her husband.

Ethan placed both hands along her cheeks and gently tilted her face toward his.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said softly.

Melanie’s eyes filled with fresh tears.

“It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart. I never blamed you. Not once. I love you, and it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault.”

She sniffled as he tenderly placed kisses along her wet cheeks, whispering over and over again that he loved her, and that she wasn’t to blame. There were plenty of kids in the world who needed a good home, and they would adopt a dozen if she wanted them. He told her they would sell the house that neither of them loved, and he would build her a new one.

“In the country?”

Ethan smiled through his own tears. She had always wanted to live in the mountains, but the daily commute to his dad’s firm had made the idea impossible.

Impossible, until now.

“Anywhere you want,” he promised her.

With the emergency lights of the elevator shining overhead, the two of them stared into each other’s eyes. They hugged tightly, wiped away each other’s tears, and whispered sweetly. There was so much to say, and for the first time in months, they finally said all the important things. They had missed each other. They loved each other. And nothing was more important than rebuilding their marriage.

“How long has it been since you’ve been properly kissed by your husband?”

Her answer was immediate.

“New Year’s Eve.”

He frowned. “Surely we’ve kissed since last January.”

“You said
properly
kissed,” Melanie reminded him. “Not a photo-op peck on the lips. The last real, toe-curling kiss that made my blood boil was New Year’s Eve. We were at the Hanson’s holiday party, and—”

Suddenly, Ethan’s mouth was on hers. Melanie groaned and slipped her hands around his neck as he deepened the kiss. Her fingers entwined in his hair, and she tugged a little, making him moan. The months of pent-up frustration and grief slipped away as their hungry kisses gave way to something softer and sweeter, until finally, Ethan buried his face against her neck. They held onto each other as they trembled with relief.

“I missed your kisses.”

Melanie sighed. “I missed yours, too.”

He grinned. “So, my beautiful wife, was that a
proper
kiss?”

She giggled, and the sound rocked him to his core. How long had it been since she’d laughed?

“
Im
proper, I think.”

“I think so, too,” Ethan agreed with a nod. “And I think these improper activities need to continue once we’re home.”

Melanie blushed, and he couldn’t resist trailing his fingertip across her crimson cheek.

“If we ever get out of here,” he grumbled.

“I can’t be upset about getting stuck in this elevator,” Melanie said. “We must have a Christmas angel somewhere. I mean, really, what are the odds that the two of us would be shopping in the same department store on Christmas Eve?”

Ethan couldn’t argue with that. There was definitely some Christmas magic happening in this elevator.

“Speaking of which,” Ethan said, nodding at the red and silver gift bag. “Did you really buy me a ten-thousand dollar watch?”

Melanie frowned. “Yes, and it’s ridiculous.”

Ethan laughed and lifted his hand. Snapped to his wrist was a beautiful gold watch.

Melanie sighed with relief. “It’s not the same.”

“We’ll return it, anyway. Nobody needs a designer watch.”

“Or an imported car.”

“Or a Chanel wallet.”

Melanie’s eyes widened a little. “Did you buy me a Chanel wallet?”

“I thought about it, but I decided to do something a little different. Something symbolic.”

Ethan offered her the gift bag. She excitedly reached inside and pulled out the small white box. It fit perfectly in the palm of her hand.

“Open it,” he said softly.

Melanie lifted the top, and nestled inside was a necklace. Dangling from the chain was a silver mistletoe charm.

“Turn,” Ethan murmured.

Melanie twisted around in his lap, and he fastened the necklace around her neck.

“It’s so pretty, Ethan.”

“I’ve missed my wife, and I wanted to guarantee that she’d let me kiss her this Christmas, so I needed mistletoe. I couldn’t decide between this and the diamond earrings, but the man behind the counter insisted on the necklace.”

Melanie gingerly touched the dainty charm before turning back around.

“I love it.”

“I love you, Melanie.”

“I love you, too.” Leaning in, she kissed him tenderly. “There. Just so you can go back to the store and tell the man behind the counter that the mistletoe worked its magic.”

When the lights flickered back to life and they finally made their way to the first floor, Ethan took his wife’s hand and led her out of the elevator. Tonight, they would go home and begin rebuilding their marriage. They would spend Christmas Day with their families, and for the first time in months, they wouldn’t have to force a smile.

And on the day after Christmas, Ethan would return the watch. He would thank the man behind the counter—a friendly manager by the name of Nick—and tell him that the mistletoe did indeed work its magic, just as he promised it would.

“Justin, can you believe this snow?”

I glance up from my laptop and turn toward the office window. There’s a good six inches on the sidewalk.

“When did that happen?”

“That happened, little brother, while your head was buried in that brief. And more is on the way. They say we could have close to a foot by daybreak.”

It’s impossible to ignore the excitement in his voice. Paul loves snow. It’s just one of the reasons he refuses to leave Minneapolis. After our dad retired and handed the reins to us, I’d suggested relocating the family law firm to a sunnier climate.

But Paul won’t discuss it.

Neither will my wife.

“You're thinking about that pretty wife of yours, aren't you?”

I grin. “How'd you know?”

“Because you always get this stupid smile on your face whenever you're thinking about her. You know, you make life hard for the rest of us. Haley is always asking me why I don't look at her the way you look at Megan.”

“Whatever. You're crazy about your wife.”

“Of course I am. She looks like a runway model and has a PhD in Microbiology. What’s not to love? I just don't wear it on my sleeve like you do.”