Tracy Madison - Miracle Under the Mistletoe

She stared at him without speaking. This was a nightmare. She was dreaming or something, because she couldn’t see Grady being so cruel as to suggest this. “Wh-what?”

“Don’t get upset. Just hear me out.” He wrapped his hand around his coffee mug and squeezed so hard that his knuckles turned white. “I miss him so much. We—” His voice caught. He coughed to clear his throat and then swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “We never talk about him. I miss talking about him with you. We were his parents and we never talk about our son. It’s killing me, Olivia.”

“And you think shopping for Christmas presents will help?” Everything inside went cold. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. “Why would we do that? How can that help anything? Why would you ask me to do that?”

“To remember our son, Olivia. To do something together with him in mind. To feel close to him around Christmas.” Grady let go of the mug and grasped her hand. “He loved Christmas, sweetheart. Do you remember?”

“All kids love Christmas,” she fired back. “And of course I remember.”

“I want to share this with you. Will you trust me enough to give this a chance? One hour,” Grady pleaded. “Give it one hour, and if it’s too much, we’ll stop.”

Emotions clogged her throat, tightened her chest. She shook her head blindly, barely able to see beyond the tears filling her eyes. “No,” she whispered. “No way.”

“Just listen,” he begged. “I’ve done this for the past two years. I’m not going to lie…it was tough the year after we lost him. It will be tough for you. But sweetheart, I found that doing this gives me a lot of joy. I want you to feel that joy.”

“Lost him? We didn’t lose him, Grady. Our son died! He’s not hiding somewhere waiting for us to find him.” Her anger shot out before she could edit her words. “He’s gone and no amount of thinking about him or shopping with him in mind will change that fact.”

Grady winced as if she’d struck him. “I know he died. Do you really think I’m capable of forgetting that?” His Adam’s apple bobbed with a heavy swallow. “Look, I know this is a lot to ask, but if you try, if you go along with me on this, it might be—”

“Might be what? Painful? Yes! Sad? Yes!” Overwhelming and scary and way, way more than she could handle? Oh, God, yes. Another round of despair pressed in, reinforcing her surety that being with Grady was impossible. “I can’t choose gifts with Cody in mind and give them to someone else! I can’t think about how he would be at this age, or what he would want for Christmas…or…or…”

She bit her lip harder, willing the tears to recede. Grady continued to hold her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. A million and one heartbreaking minutes passed before he said, “Okay, I get it. You’re not ready for this. I’m sorry I brought it up.” His shoulders lifted in a heavy shrug. “I thought it might help. I hoped… Hell, it doesn’t matter. We can do something else.”

“No. We can’t do something else. I need to go home.” She tried to yank her hand out of his grip, but couldn’t. “Let go of me,” she said between clenched teeth, trying to hold back the gush of tears she felt coming.

“Please stay,” he said again. “We don’t have to discuss Cody or what happened last night, but I don’t want you to leave when you’re this upset. Let’s spend the day together. We can go see a movie or visit my folks. They’re always asking about you.”

She shook her head, not trusting herself enough to talk.

“If you leave, it’s like we’re taking one step forward and two steps backward. Let’s not do that. Let’s keep moving forward.” Grady’s voice was even and calm, but each word held the strength of his love, of his conviction that they should be together.

She held her eyes wide open, refusing to blink. The heavy weight of anger dissipated, changing to fear. Not of Grady. Never of him. But of what he wanted. Of what she couldn’t give him. “We are as far back as we can get. There is no moving forward, Grady. I…I haven’t changed my mind about the divorce. I’m sorry for leading you on—” her voice caught as an unwanted sob emerged “—I didn’t mean to lead you on, but I still want a divorce.”

Grady sat so still, she wasn’t sure if he was breathing. But then, “You didn’t act like we were making a mistake last night. You had plenty of opportunity to slam on the brakes.” Frustration deepened his voice. “Don’t do this.”

“I have to.” She tugged her hand, and he let go. “I don’t regret last night, Grady. It was wonderful in…in so many ways. I regret confusing the situation between us…but that’s my fault. My mistake. I’m sorry you thought last night meant—”

“I didn’t know what it meant! But I sure as hell didn’t think it meant nothing.”

“I know. My fault,” she repeated. She hated hurting him, but didn’t see a way around it. “It meant something. Of course it did! Just not what you’d like. I really am sorry. So sorry.”

“Is this really it, Olly? No turning back here.” He held himself stiff and straight, as if pulling all of his strength together to shield himself from her. “You want a divorce?”

Olivia drew in a breath and fastened her eyes on his. “Yes, Grady. I do.”

“You’re sure?” he demanded. “Be very sure, Olivia.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I’m sure.”

His shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes for a millisecond. With a weary, defeated-sounding sigh, he said, “Fine. I can’t keep fighting you on this. I’ll find an attorney.”

More shocked than relieved to hear his agreement,

Olivia said, “You will?”

“I will.” He looked away. In a lower tone, he said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For driving the car our son died in.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said thickly. He didn’t respond, just pointed his gaze toward the door, his message clear. He wanted her to leave. Who could blame him?

She found her shoes and fumbled, nearly falling when she put them on. Opening the door to his apartment seemed to take far more strength than it should. Or, at least, far more strength than she had. Just before stepping outside, she whispered, “I don’t blame you, Grady. I blame me. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“I can’t hear you, Olivia. What did you say?” Grady said.

“I said…goodbye. Just goodbye.” She pushed herself out, letting the door slam behind her. The air outside was colder than she expected. So cold, she wouldn’t have been surprised if her tears froze on their path down her cheeks.

“So that’s it, huh?” Grady’s younger-by-two-years brother, Jace, asked from his seat across from Grady. They were eating an early dinner at a local fifties-style diner. Well, Jace was doing most of the eating. Grady was mostly brooding. “Whatever happened to your not-all-alternatives-have-been-exhausted argument?”

“They haven’t. But I can’t force Olivia to try.” Grady shrugged in a vain attempt to appear unaffected by the last twenty-four hours. “So yeah, that’s it.”

Jace stuffed a few French fries into his mouth, then washed them down with a swig of soda before replying, “That sucks. But I can’t say that I’m surprised.”

Grady stared at his brother in mild annoyance. “That’s some empathy you’ve got going there. You should quit your job at the paper and become a talk-show host.”

“What are you talking about?” To give him credit, Jace looked truly bewildered. “I said it sucks. It does.”

“Nice, Jace. My marriage is over and that’s the best you have? Even for you, that’s a little cold.”

“Not cold. It’s realistic,” Jace said in a firm voice. “I’m sorry for you, but you gotta know that your marriage ended a while ago. At least now, you’re not hanging on in blind hope. Frankly, you’re better off.”