Page 69 of One Foggy Christmas
Sleep is the easiest way to hide from the pain.
The good-smellingcologne was the first thing I noticed.
Then, one after another, more information falls into place.
The coarse stubble against my cheek.
The weight of an arm draped over my side.
The hard chest rising and falling with my own breath.
Everything clicks, and I panic.
My eyes fly open, and I lurch forward, escaping from Nash’s arms to my feet. The sudden movement jolts him awake to an upright position.
“What? What happened?” His head swivels, assessing potential danger despite his groggy confusion. Wild green eyes land on me. “Are you okay?”
I fold my arms over my chest like protective armor and glance away. “This wasn’t the sleeping arrangement you promised.”
“Uh…” He looks around at the crumpled bed and morning sunlight blaring through the windows until he grasps the situation. “It was an honest mistake. You were crying and…” Guilty eyes fall to the mattress where, seconds ago, our bodies were intertwined. “I just fell asleep, and the cuddling and all of that was an accident. Like muscle memory.”
“I don’t care if some stupid certificate says you’re my husband,” I snap. “You’re a stranger, and I don’t want your arms around me. Do you know how invasive that is?”
My words break him.
I feel the force of his hurt pierce my soul. Crestfallen, he drags himself off the bed.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt, as if backpedaling can somehow fix the damage I caused. “I just meant?—”
“You don’t have to apologize.” There’s a smile, but nothing about his expression says it should be there. “It’s my fault.”
“No, I just…” I cover my face with my hands.
“It’s fine.” I hear his footsteps shuffle to the door. “I’ll make some breakfast, and you can go through your clothes and find things you want to take to Skaneateles. It’s all fine.”
I don’t drop my hands until Nash is safely out of the room, and I’m alone with my guilt.
NASH
The morningafter the accidental cuddle has been tense. Whatever headway I thought I was making with Sadie was all erased the second we slept together, and all we did wassleep.I would never dream of doing anything more under our current circumstances—I didn’t even dream of cuddling.But when you’ve been married for three years and fall asleep on a bed, it just naturally happens.
I wish it didn’t, based on the silent treatment she’s been giving me.
It hasn’t been complete silence. In a lot of ways, Sadie’s like a toddler, needing help packing and finding the suitcases, not knowing where her passport is, or even thinking about needing identification to fly.
Helping her isn’t annoying. I want to help. I meant what I said about loving her through everything life brings. It’s just hard. I never counted on Sadie not remembering me. It’s a level of tragedy most hearts aren’t prepared for.
I know I wasn’t.
Sadie slept most of the short flight to Syracuse, which I was happy about. Going home for the first time in three years will be mentally exhausting for her tonight.
Annie waited for us at the curb when we exited the airport. Sadie’s face lit up for the first time today when she saw her. I sat in the back of the car as the two of them chatted and pointed out landmarks that had changed from what Sadie remembered.
Snow already covers the ground of her small hometown. Annie drives us down Genesee Street, showing off the Christmas decorations, giant wreaths, holiday garlands, and lights that adorn the quaint shops.
“I was thinking about the Dickens Christmas Festival the other day,” Sadie says as she cranes to see out the window. She glances over her shoulder, filling me in. “Skaneateles does this thing every Christmas where they bring Charles Dickens’A Christmas Carolto life through street performances and carolers. It’s a huge deal here.”
“I think it’s been going for thirty years or something like that,” Annie adds.
