Mistletoe Baby

had chilled David to the core was how easily she’d snapped that maybe she wasn’t the right woman for him. It had sounded ominously like a threat. He’d recalled with brutal clarity the shock of when she’d left him in November.

Was that how it would be now, the specter of separation hanging over him like a married man’s Sword of Damocles? Would he have to worry that whenever things got rocky at home, calling it quits would be her go-to solution? He couldn’t put himself through that. And what about after their child was born? Kids deserved a stable environment.

David’s righteous anger lasted from the walk at the back of the church, all the way to the front steps. As he descended toward the parking lot, Zachariah’s car stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and Arianne and Rachel got out. Apparently there had been a hold-up at the hairdresser’s earlier. Lilah herself had arrived later than scheduled, her nerves frazzled when she reached the church.

The hairdresser might have been slow, but she’d done an amazing job with Rachel, whose black hair had grown so long in the past year-a result, she’d speculated, of the prenatal vitamins. Now, it was up in some kind of pretty twist, tendrils curling down around her face here and there. Her makeup was smoky and soft, or maybe that was just the pregnancy. He’d noticed the way she was softening more and more lately-well, in general, not with him. Her voice had been hard at the wedding rehearsal. She’d greeted him with exacting politeness, her gaze as warm as an ice sculpture.

He extended that same cool civility now, nodding as she passed. “Rachel.” As he averted his gaze, though, trying not to notice how fantastic she looked, it snagged on the top of her dress and the tantalizing view of full, ripe cleavage. That wasn’t appropriate for church! But Arianne and Rachel were already hurrying past him and his wordless stupor, leaving him behind.

If it weren’t for the fact that he was the best man and took his responsibilities as such very seriously, he would be counting the seconds to the reception and the open bar.

THE GOOD THING about weddings, Rachel thought as she shifted her weight and tried not to look miserable in front of two hundred and eighty guests, was that no one thought anything of it if you cried. She’d wondered, as she first walked down the aisle to her position at the front, whether if she didn’t look at David, she could do this. But watching Tanner and Lilah-and the way they watched each other-made everything even worse.

We had that once. They were both good people, flawed but decent, and they’d loved each other very much. How had they let it go so wrong?

Then the vows had started, almost identical to the ones she and David had exchanged. The “richer and poorer” part had never really been an issue, but they’d failed spectacularly at the “better or worse” and “in sickness and health.” The promise that really haunted her, though, was “cherish and respect.” She recalled mood swings she’d had, excuses she’d made for not being intimate with him, days when she’d been so tempted to roll her eyes at his offering her or someone else advice that she’d forgotten entirely that she used to come to him for advice about everything under the sun.

Had she cherished her husband? She winced guiltily.

David, to give him his due, had tried to cherish her. He’d tried a lot more consistently than she had. But in doing so, time and again he’d failed to respect her opinions, preferences, her intellect and autonomy. Honestly, how much consideration had he really given to why that nursery set would be the one she would want the most, the one that was perfect for their child? Had he simply been swept away by the idea of once again sweeping her off her feet? My husband, the broom. Of course, as he’d so patronizingly pointed out, lots of other women would be grateful that their husbands cared enough to make sweeping gestures.

Weeks ago, she’d thought miserably that if she had a chance at taking back small moments in her marriage, she’d do it differently. Was her idea of improvement rejecting something he’d worked hard on, trying to make herself heard at the expense of his feelings? God, what a pair they were. Or weren’t.

Winnie would be home this week, and Rachel had no idea how she and David would proceed. They had some decisions to make. Unfortunately that would involve speaking to each other again, if they could trust themselves to have a conversation without yelling this time. Maybe that’s why some people went to lawyers in the first place, needing that third party. Lawyers. Her heart hurt at the thought.

At the sudden sound of applause, she barely kept herself from jumping. Belatedly, she turned to see Tanner and Lilah presented as husband and wife.

She’d missed the end of the wedding, too distraught over the end of her own marriage.

ZACHARIAH, wearing a tuxedo that matched both of his sons’, clapped David on the arm. “Should have known you’d be over here.”

David jiggled one of the index cards in his hand. “Practicing my speech.”

“That’s what I mean.” Zachariah laughed. “Instead of dancing with that beautiful wife of yours, you’re over here trying to make sure it’s absolutely perfect. Relax, son, no one’s going to grade you on this.”

David tried to smile, not quite accomplishing his goal. Luckily his father wasn’t looking at him.

The older Waide gestured with his champagne flute toward the dance floor where Tanner and Lilah only had eyes for each other. “They look so happy together, don’t they? As a parent, that’s all you can wish for your kids.” He smiled back toward David. “I know I wasn’t exactly a relaxed or laid-back role model, but when this baby comes, try not to sweat the small stuff. You and Rachel keep loving each other and make sure the little one knows how much he’s loved, and the rest will work itself out.”

David had always respected his dad’s opinion, but that sounded like the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. The rest will work itself out? Right. Witness his own happy home. Someone should warn Lilah and Tanner how much work marriage took. Then again, under the right circumstances, marriages lasted decades, entire lifetimes. That kind of payoff was worth the effort.

I made an effort.

He glanced across the room, saw his mother and Rachel sitting at a table and talking. From his vantage point, he could see that Rachel had kicked off her high heels and was wiggling her toes. In spite of everything else, the sight made him smile.

He and his wife certainly defined “effort” differently. He thought he’d been making an admirable effort putting together that nursery for her. And she thought she’d been making an honest effort to improve their relationship by pointing out why she hated that he’d done it. He frowned. Did she have a point?

It wouldn’t make for the wittiest or sexiest reception toast ever, but marriage required compromise. He could tell himself that he’d been working his tail off-trying to pay her more attention, sending her flowers, giving her space while still being persistent in fighting to salvage their marriage-but what had he actually compromised?

The question stumped him. Had Rachel ever asked him to give up anything other than sex on the nights she wasn’t in the mood and a few of his more high-handed ways?

Perhaps-that maddening inner voice was back-if you’d been a little less high-handed, she would have been in the mood a little more.

“David!” Arianne snapped her fingers, and he blinked, startled to find his sister standing in front of him, a worried look on her face. “Were you even listening to me?”

He was getting that a lot from women these days. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

She pointed to the corner of the room, where tall pieces of white lattice work draped in tulle formed an enclosure around a long table. The wedding cake and groom’s cake sat next to each other. “They’re going to cut the cake, but first we do our toasts.”

“What’s yours?”

“That I can’t imagine why any woman would willingly live with one of my brothers, but that even knowing what pains you and Tanner are, every time I see all that happiness shining from Lilah’s face, I get…jealous.”

He couldn’t believe that was actually her maid-of-honor toast, but knowing Arianne, maybe it was.

“Anyway,” she told him, “you go first. If yours is good enough, I’ll just add, ‘what he said,’ and we can get on with the party.”

All of the other members of the bridal party were gathered around the table, including Rachel. People naturally shifted so that he could be closer to his wife. Her body brushed his, and his entire system heated with wanting her. He could still clearly remember their own wedding-it had been tormenting all through the ceremony-and how