Tracy Madison - Miracle Under the Mistletoe

How odd that being with him brought her pain, but this—just listening to his voice—eased the panicky, twisty feeling that had existed within her for so long. The safety of distance, perhaps. Or the simple fact that he didn’t know she lurked nearby. Or maybe because she’d finally, after all of this time, made a decision about their marriage.

None of that mattered at the moment, because all she wanted was to feel normal again. So she didn’t think. She didn’t give herself a second to consider the ramifications, to wonder if she should or if she shouldn’t. She just stepped forward, her eyes resting on the one man—the only man—she’d ever loved. Her shoes crunched in the snow, the sound echoing in the silent night like tiny bursts of fireworks, but Grady didn’t turn his head.

She kept moving forward, expecting him to hear her, expecting him to stop talking and face her, at any minute. He didn’t. She stopped a few feet from where he knelt, close enough to make out his words, close enough to recognize the husky, emotional quality in her husband’s voice.

“It’s almost Christmas again, son. Soon, people will be putting up their Christmas trees, decorating their houses with lights. Kids will visit Santa.” Grady’s tone deepened. “I try not to be envious. I try not to think about what we would be doing if you were still with us. But it’s hard.”

Oh, God. No. She didn’t want to hear this. No, no, no. She took one silent step backward, and then another. But Grady kept talking, each syllable slicing into her like a blade.

“I saw this train set the other day, and I immediately thought how much you would love it. I had the box in my hands before I remembered…before I realized—”

She blinked and one tear, and then another, fell. How often had the same thing happened to her? Too often. “Stop,” she whispered. “Please stop.”

Grady rose to his feet lightning-fast. His arms crushed around her and his mouth pressed against the top of her head. “I didn’t know you were here. I’m sorry, Olly. I’m so sorry you heard…?.”

She burrowed her head into his chest, knowing she should pull away but unable to find the strength to do so. His arms felt so good around her. She closed her eyes and breathed in his familiar scent, allowing herself a few minutes of comfort.

He tightened his hold and kissed her hair softly. Gently. She sighed and nestled in deeper, wanting more, wanting everything she’d lost, wanting to be—even if only for one more night—normal. Again, the thought that she should pull back—leave and go home—processed, but her body refused to listen. So she hung on, curled her fingers into the back of Grady’s coat and tugged him closer.

The twisting sensation in her stomach gave way to warmth. Tendrils of heat teased through her muscles, winding through her body like a vine. Grady’s hands pressed against her back, offering her comfort, reminding her of everything they’d once been, of the passion they’d once shared, of the life they’d once had. It was a lot. It was too much to take in, too much to handle with her raw emotions, so she forced her arms to drop and her legs to retreat.

“I’m sorry I interrupted you,” she mumbled. “I should leave.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” He held out a hand. “Come here, Olly. Let me hold you.”

Her logical brain insisted she needed to hightail it out of there, but her body moved forward. She placed her hand in his, and he pulled her toward him. She looked up into Grady’s eyes, and before she knew what was happening, his lips were on hers.

And everything else disappeared.

Olivia rolled over in bed and stretched. She reached blindly for Jasper, but instead of the soft, warm fur of her cat, her palm slapped against an empty pillow. Normally, the oversize Siamese perched himself next to her head, anxiously waiting for her to wake up. The second she’d open her eyes, the hungry meows would begin.

Weird. She couldn’t remember one morning in the last—

Oh, no! She hadn’t. Had she? Her skin warmed when the prior night’s events invaded her memory. Oh, yes. God help her, yes she had. Grady had kissed her. She’d kissed him back, and then followed him here, to his apartment. More kissing ensued. There were a few glasses of wine in there somewhere, along with the food Grady had brought home from the restaurant, and then more kissing. Her fingers touched her lips. A lot of kissing. A lot of touching.

Oh, hell. A lot of everything.

Fire had roared through her blood, she’d wanted him so badly. Still wanted him, if her body’s current reaction was anything to go by.

And how stupid was that? Panic threaded in when she peeked through half-opened eyes, expecting to find Grady watching her. When she didn’t see her husband anywhere, she opened her eyes fully and sat up, pulling the blankets around her, taking stock.

The room was simple and basic, containing only a bed, a dresser, one nightstand and a lamp. Other than a few pictures of Cody and one of her, the room was bare of any decorative embellishments. She remembered that the rest of the apartment was the same: functional, but without any of the extras that created a home. Not so much a bachelor pad as a place to get by, one day at a time, until something better came along.

And knowing her husband the way she did, that meant waiting for her. Waiting for the day that he could move back into their home to take up where they’d left off.

Olivia brought her knees tight to her chest and wrapped her arms around them in an effort to find her balance. This was bad. Monumentally bad, even. She heard movement from beyond the bedroom, along with a cacophony of banging and clanking. Grady was in the kitchen, probably making her breakfast. Her husband’s humming hit her ears next. Humming!

She groaned. Now what? She’d finally found the strength to ask for a divorce, and then she’d followed up with a roll in the hay? What kind of a woman did that—and enjoyed it, no less? Okay, huge understatement. She’d more than enjoyed it. She’d basked in their lovemaking. Images of him touching her, of her touching him, rushed in. Red-hot heat licked into her limbs. Last night wasn’t Grady’s fault. She’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her. Physically, anyway. And for what? To feel normal?

The humming in the next room changed to whistling. She tried to relax, but her muscles bunched into tighter knots. Her eyes drifted to a photo of Cody and another round of panic hit her squarely in her chest. What had she been thinking? Stupid question. She hadn’t thought. No, what she had done was react—to Grady’s voice, his touches…his kisses.

“Calm down,” Olivia murmured. “Think this through.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she allowed herself a moment to relive their lovemaking. Warmth and tenderness exploded inside as the memories wove through her. Dear God, she’d missed him. Last night was like coming home. “This is good,” she whispered. “Keep going.”

She envisioned walking into the kitchen and laying a kiss on her husband, on the image of his arms circling her and holding her tight, of her telling him that she wanted to move forward. Or, at least, try to move forward. A slow buzz trickled over her, further easing the weight on her shoulders. Maybe last night hadn’t been a mistake, but rather, a twist of fate to stop her from divorcing Grady. Was that possible?

Maybe. If she were to believe in signs, then this—having sex with her husband the night she’d asked for a divorce—was a huge one. Opening her eyes, she breathed in deeply and let the idea simmer. The panicky feeling was still there, but for maybe the first time in years, a tiny speck of hope existed. Why? What had changed? Maybe…maybe she’d needed nothing more than to take a step toward Grady, instead of pushing him away?