Page 4 of What Happens This Christmas
She was probably trying to glean if I was a murderer or some other hardened criminal. Unfortunately, there was no telling, but then again, how safe were public modes of transportation anyway? I was a billionaire with a town car, in a suit that cost more than the rent on most buildings around here, and a leather briefcase filled with work to prove how hard I fucking worked for the money.
She blinked. “Who are you?”
“Does it matter?”
“No,” Candy finally said, and I looked up, meeting the stubborn gleam in her captivating hazel eyes.
No?I drew my brows together and waited for her to elaborate on the one word I didn’t care to hear, especially when it was regarding the rest of my life.
Without another word, she went back to cutting her steak into bite-sized pieces.
I forced my gaze to move from her plate to mine. Even the distinction in the way we cut our meat was stark. She craved perfection, each bite perfectly sized to fit on the tines of her fork, leaving enough room for a bite of asparagus. She’d chew each mouthful no less than the acceptable and suggested twenty times. Then there was mine, where the food remained whole until I was ready to take a bite. Only then did I cut it, one piece at a time. I didn’t aim for any particular size or number of chews. I just cut my food and ate it. That alone should have been enough of a reason for me to have expected my wife to say nothing more than that simple two-letter, one-syllable word of defiance.
“Pardon?” I took a sip of my red wine and waited for her to elaborate.
Candy reached onto her lap and retrieved her napkin, folding it precisely before dabbing her red lips and setting it on the table. “No to your divorce statement. You can do whatever you want, but not until the second of January.”
My brows beetled. “Any particular reason I have an assigned date?” Surely, she didn’t think she’d be able to change my mind if she kept me tied to her for any longer.
“Yes.” She swallowed, her fingers wrapping around the stem of her wineglass. “The holidays are coming up. We have Teddy and Irina’s holiday party. Then of course, there’s our annual Christmas Eve party.” And why the hell should I care about any of this miscellaneous crap? “We’re scheduled to take our holidaycard photos. The gala for the foundation is also coming up, and you surely haven’t forgotten about that.” A mischievous glint crossed her expression as though daring me to see things any other way but hers. Unfortunately for her, I only saw things my way. She angled her head. “Need I go on?”
Pushing my plate aside, I leaned back. “I think you might need to tell me what the hell all of that has to do with me divorcing you.” If only she’d say the one thing I wanted to hear, the one thing I knew as well as my own name that she’d never say—that she wanted time to fight for us.
It was funny, but I knew quite a bit.
Like most everything about my wife.
How when she let her hair down, her blonde locks would gently cascade down her back like a golden waterfall.
How she had a refined cheekbone structure that most women likely would have killed to have been blessed with.
But, most definitely, how she had a petite frame and subtle curves. She wasn’t endowed with large tits or a big ass. Instead, she was modest even in her form. Her tits were the perfect size in the way that they filled my hands but didn’t spill over. And her ass was a heart shape that got accentuated by nearly every article of clothing she wore.
“Perception is everything, Nick,” she said, jolting me from my thoughts. Her voice was soft and delicate as she spoke with conviction that only those in a courthouse for the prosecution would have appreciated. “We can’t taint ourselves with such an ugly word like divorce this time of year. What will people think?”
She was always more worried about what other people thought than doing what was right for us, me, or even herself. It came as natural as breathing for her. “They’ll think our marriage is dead. Which it is. So, bingo for them. Maybe I’ll pass out cigars.”
“Don’t be disgusting.” She shook her head, her ponytail swaying with the movement. “You’ve waited this long. You can wait until after the holidays.”
I could do a lot of things, but it didn’t mean I was going to. Take jumping out of an airplane, for instance. Icoulddo that, but my brain cells were still working, so I’d have to pass on possibly spraining an ankle, or worse, plummeting to my death.
But she wanted this. Bad. So bad, in fact, that she’d do whatever it took. I’d bet my last dollar on that fact alone. “Fine,” I lamented. I’d give her what she wanted, but she was going to give me something in return. “I’ll tell my lawyer to wait until January. But if we’re going to put on a show outside this house for our friends, then I want you to put on a show inside this house too. I want you to try.”
She swallowed.
“Try to make this holiday season what it once was, maybe even better,” I declared.
Clearing her throat, she pushed her chair out. Carefully. Slowly. It barely made a sound on the white oak hardwood flooring. “Don’t be ridiculous, Nick.”
She was going to get up and leave, putting an end to this conversation just because she didn’t like the direction it was taking. But she underestimated me. Either that, or it slipped her mind that I could almost always anticipate her next move.
Beating her to the punch, I stood up and leaned forward, placing my hands firmly on the table with enough force to drive it into the ground. “Say you agree, Candy, or I don’t wait.”
Releasing an exasperated sigh, she stood so we were staring each other straight in the eyes. She leaned forward, and the smell of her perfume intoxicated me. She still wore the first scent I’d bought her for our wedding. I’d described Candy to a salesgirl in the store, and she’d picked the perfect combination of notes, something as soft and feminine as the woman who I’d chosen tobe my bride. Over the years, that woman had changed, but the perfume hadn’t.
Finally, Candy narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, lips that I would give anything to feel against my own again. I wasn’t one to keep a calendar or remember things like this, so I couldn’t pinpoint exactly how long it had been since we’d last kissed, but even a day was too damn long, in my opinion. “I agree. I’ll call the decorators tomorrow and make sure they decorate early. The whole place will be as festive as ever.”
A few inches. That was all I’d need to lean in and claim her lips. Not that I’d do it. With the passion she had been able to muster lately, it would have been like kissing a fish. “I’m not just talking about materialistic shit, Candy.”
