Christmas Where They Belong. Marion Lennox
She’d always been self-contained, sure, confident of her place in the world. He’d fallen in love with that containment, with her fierce intelligence, with the humour that matched his, a biting wit that made him break into laughter at the most inappropriate moments. He’d loved her drive to be the best at her job. He’d understood and admired it because he was like that, too. It was only when the twins arrived that they’d realised two parents with driving ambition was a recipe for disaster.
Still they’d managed it. They’d juggled it. They’d loved...
Loved. He looked at her now, shivering despite the oppressive heat. She looked younger, he thought suddenly.
Vulnerable.
She’d never been vulnerable and neither had he.
But they’d loved.
‘Julie?’
‘Yes?’ She looked at him and she looked scared. And he knew it was nothing to do with the fires.
‘Mmm.’
‘Let’s go to bed,’ he said, but she hugged her arms even tighter.
‘I don’t...know.’
‘There’s no one else?’
‘No.’
‘Nor for me,’ he said gently. He was treading on eggshells here. He should back off, go and sleep in the spare room, but there was something about this woman... This woman who was still his wife.
‘We can’t...at least...I can’t move forward,’ he told her, struggling to think things through as he spoke. ‘Relationships are for other people now, not for me. But tonight... For me, tonight is all about goodbye and I suspect it’s goodbye for you as well.’
‘The house won’t burn.’
‘No,’ he said, even more gently. ‘It probably won’t. At dawn I’ll go out and cut down the overhanging branches—and even with my limited skill with power tools, I should get them cleared before the wind changes. Then we’ll turn on every piece of fire-safe technology we built into this house. And after that, no matter what the outcome, we’ll walk away. We must. It’s time it was over, Jules, but for tonight...’ He hesitated but he had to say it. It was a gut-deep need and it couldn’t be put aside. ‘Tonight, we need each other.’
‘So much for being strangers,’ she whispered. She was still hugging herself, still contained. Sort of.
‘I guess we are,’ he conceded. ‘I guess the people we’ve turned into don’t know each other. But for now...for this night I’d like to take to bed the woman who’s still my wife.’
‘In name only.’ She was shivering.
‘So you don’t want me? Not tonight? Never again?’
And she looked up at him with those eyes he remembered so well, but with every bit of the confidence, humour, wit and courage blasted right out of them.
‘I do want you,’ she whispered. ‘That’s what terrifies me.’
‘Same here.’
‘Rob...’
‘Mmm.’
‘Do you have condoms? I mean, the last thing...’
‘I have condoms.’
‘So when you said relationships are for other people...’
‘Hey, I’m a guy.’ He was trying again to make her smile. ‘I live in hope. Hope that one morning I’ll wake up and find the old hormones rushing back. Hope that one evening I’ll look across a crowded room and see a woman laughing at the same dumb thing I’m laughing at.’
That had been what happened that night, the first time they’d met. It had been a boring evening: a company she worked for announcing a major interest in a new dockland precinct; a bright young architect on the fringes; Julie with her arms full of contracts ready to be signed by investors. A boring speech, a stupid pun missed by everyone, including the guy making the speech, and then eyes meeting...
Contracts handed to a junior. Excuses made fast. Dinner. Then...
‘So I’m prepared,’ Rob said gently and tilted her chin. Gently, though. Forcing her gaze to meet his. ‘One last time, my Jules?’
‘I’m not...your Jules.’
‘Can you pretend...for tonight?’
And, amazingly, she nodded. ‘I think...maybe,’ she managed, and at last her arms uncrossed. At last she abandoned the defensive. ‘Maybe because I need to drive the ghosts away. And maybe because I want to.’
‘I need more than maybe, Jules,’ he said gently. ‘I need you to want me as much as I want you.’
* * *
And there was the heart of what she was up against. She wanted him.
She always had.
Once upon a time she’d stood before an altar, the perfect bride. She remembered walking down the aisle on her father’s arm, seeing Rob waiting for her, knowing it was right. She’d felt like the luckiest woman in the world. He’d held her heart in his hand, and she’d known that he’d treat it with care and love and honour.
She’d said I do, and she’d meant it.
Until death do us part...
Death had parted them, she thought and it would go on keeping them apart. There was no way they could pick up the pieces that had been their lives before the boys.
But somehow they’d been given tonight.
One night. A weird window of space and time. Tomorrow the echoes of their past could well disappear, and maybe it was right that they should.
But tonight he was here.
Tonight he was gazing at her with a tenderness that told her he needed this night as well. He wanted that sliver of the past as much as she did.
For tonight he wanted her and she ached for him back. But he wasn’t pushing. It had to be her decision.
Maybe I can do this, she thought. Maybe, just for tonight, I can put my armour aside...
Her everyday life was now orchestrated, rigidly contained. It held no room for emotional attachment. Even coming here was an aberration. Once the fire was over, she’d return to her job, return to her life, return to her containment.
But for now...that ache... The way Rob talked to her... That he asked her to his bed...
It was like a siren call, she thought helplessly. She’d loved this man; she’d loved everything about him. Love had almost destroyed her and she couldn’t go there again, but for tonight... Tonight was an anomaly—time out of frame.
For tonight, she was in her home with her husband. He wasn’t pushing. He never had. He was simply waiting for her to make her decision.
Lie with her husband...or not?
Have one night as the Julie of old...or not?
‘Because once we loved,’ he said lightly, as if this wasn’t a major leap, and maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she could love again—just for the night. One night of Rob and then she’d get on with her life. One night...
‘But not if you see it as scary.’
His gaze was locked on hers. ‘It’s for pleasure only, my Jules,’ he said softly. ‘No threats. No promises. No future. Just for this night. Just for us. Just for now. Maybe or yes? I need a yes, Jules. You have to be sure.’
And suddenly she was. ‘Yes,’ she said, because there was nothing else to say. ‘Yes, please, Rob. For tonight, there’s no maybe about it. Crazy or not, scary or not, I want you.’
‘Hey, what’s scary about