Weddings in the Family

“I bet they were impressed.” He leaned in and kissed the pale skin at the curve of her neck. “You’ve been working on this all year.”

“Yes, well, I—Ms. Russell—” She swallowed and the skin danced across his lips. “She mentioned that they’re considering—Oh! Nick!”

He grinned, his mouth hovering over the nipple he had just kissed through her shirt. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, I—” Her hand caressed the hair at the nape of his neck and gently, slowly, she eased his head and mouth back to her breast. “I’ll tell you the rest later,” she murmured.

CAROLINE LOUNGED AGAINST his shoulder, nestled between his body and the back of the couch. Their clothes were scattered on the floor, her panties resting precariously on the edge of the lamp shade. She shivered and he tucked her closer.

Her hand twirled the hair on his chest, her fingernails lightly dancing over his skin. “Did you eat something?”

“Yeah.” His fingers tangled in the curls above her ear and he leaned in for a long kiss. “A sandwich,” he managed to say when he could breathe again.

She was wedged between the cushion and his arm. With every breath she took, her body rubbed against his skin. He clamped his teeth against the surge of desire that raced through him. No matter how many times he was with her, she could start the reaction all over again with a simple smile, a touch of her hand, her skin against his.

Instead of giving in to the desire, he knew he had to tell her his news. The temptation to wait until the next day was balanced by the thought that their current bout of lovemaking had left her in a mellow mood.

“I had my formal review,” he began.

She jerked upright and he had to press his foot to the floor to keep from sliding off the couch. “You got your promotion, right?”

He nodded and she yipped, her face lighting up as she threw herself on top of him. “Oh, Nick! That’s wonderful. Now we can look for a house, finish paying off your school loans. You’ll have your own office, right? With a window? We can decorate it, add some personal touches. That cubicle you have now—”

“Wait.” He interrupted her with a hand on her lips and at her waist to keep her still. Her bouncing was causing parts of him to respond and he had to keep his wits about him.

She frowned. “You didn’t get a raise?” she mumbled against his fingers. “No new office?”

“No, I’ll get a raise.” He glanced at the ceiling, at the flickering lights of the television, toward the glass door leading to their small patio. Anywhere but at her shining face.

“Nick.” Her hands framed his cheeks and turned his attention back to her. “What is it?”

He’d never been a coward. She’d understand. She loved him. She wanted what was best for both of them and this was a grand opportunity for his career. She was a wonderful teacher, she’d find another job…

“The new office is in Missouri.”

Her stunned silence bounced off the walls. From the corner of his eye, he could see the comedian speaking to his cohort in the sitcom that had replaced the variety show, their mouths moving wordlessly. A branch scraped across the glass door of the patio.

“Caro?”

She pushed against his shoulders, climbing to her feet. She scooped up her clothes and hugged them against her body, crossing the space to the stairs.

“Don’t walk away. We have to talk about this.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, dignified in her posture. For a moment, he was distracted by the lean length of her, the tight buttocks, the slender legs.

But her words snapped him back to the conversation. “You’re asking me to move, right? Did you hear a word I said earlier? No, of course you didn’t. I didn’t finish because you distracted me.”

She leaned forward. “Well, let me tell you the rest. Ms. Russell wants to develop my program for the entire district. The vice superintendent of curriculum, Nick!”

She flung her hands out, her stance a belligerent, naked goddess. “She wants me to work with the other teachers next year and go into their classrooms. The administration talked about it at their work session today and are willing to give me a stipend for the extra hours. Are you asking me to give that up?”

“No.” He stopped. How could she develop her program here in Iowa if they moved to Missouri for his new position?

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not going.” She took another step toward the stairs and rested a hand on the railing. “This is what my mom did, Nick. She followed my dad everywhere he wanted to go. Not once did she get a chance to be her own person, someone other than George Armstrong’s wife.”

“Caro.” He sat up, his arms crossed over his thighs. She had looked fierce and commanding standing in the middle of the living room, her eyes intense. He felt vulnerable, arguing his case naked. “Good teachers are needed everywhere. You’ll get a great recommendation. You can start your reading program in Missouri.”

“You don’t start changing things as soon as you move into a new district.” She stomped toward the stairs, her body disappearing around the bend.

“We’re not done talking about this,” he called after her.

All he heard in response was the sound of her feet treading up the steps.

THE BEDROOM DOOR WAS shut when he made it upstairs. He had locked the doors, checked the windows, turned off all the lights. Stalling, to let her have time to get ready for bed, to calm down and realize that the promotion was good for both of them.

The lights were out in the room when he pushed the door open. “Caro?” he whispered.

The streetlight shone through a crack in the curtain and illuminated the bed, showing her curled on the farthest edge away from the door. He could hear her light breathing, but he couldn’t tell if she was asleep or faking it so she didn’t have to talk to him.

He crossed the room and entered the small bathroom, brushing his teeth quickly. He clicked off the light and made his way through the dark room, climbing onto his side of the bed.

She tensed up and he sighed. “Caro, we have to talk about this.”

Silence.

He touched her shoulder. “Caro.”

She rolled away and he waited for her to tumble from the bed. She paused and he knew she was clinging to the edge of the mattress.

“Fine.” He stretched out on his side of the bed, his back to her. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Breakfast was a quiet affair. He had awakened in the night, expecting her to be spooned around his back. Instead, he had felt only the wide chasm of the empty mattress between them. Hurt and angry, he had settled back into his pillow, determined to wait her out.

“I have a meeting tonight, so I’ll be home about six.” Her voice was neutral.

“Do you want me to start something for supper? I should be home at five-thirty.”

“There’s hamburger for tacos in the refrigerator.”

He nodded. Anyone observing them would see two people going about their before-work activities. No raised voices, no angry glares.

No kiss goodbye.

HE WAS CHOPPING TOMATOES into fine pieces when she came home. “Hi.” He kept his voice low. “How was your day?”

“Fine. We had a meeting with one of my parents. I think we sorted out the problem.”

“That’s good.” He slid the chopped tomatoes into one side of the divided bowl. His back to her, he unscrewed the lid on a jar of black olives and drained them before adding them to the other side of the bowl.