Her home.Theirhome. A place full of choices—his and hers.
The silence pressed in.
She brought a hand to her mouth. Her lips still felt warm. Over-warm. Like the memory of him was still there.
“Oh God,” she whispered into the quiet, not sure if it was a prayer or a curse.
The house felt different. Not hostile. Not comforting. Just… suspended. As if it, too, was waiting to see what she’d decide next.
She moved through the living room slowly, fingers trailing along the back of the sofa. The bay windows she loved stood like tall, watchful sentinels. Moonlight spilled across the hardwood he’d chosen to match the honey undertones in her grandmother’s dining table.
Everything in here had a reason. A story. A moment where he’d said—or tried to say—I see you.
She hated how much that still mattered.
Her chest tightened.
He had kissed her tonight like she was home. Like she was treasure. Like he was terrified and trying and sorry all at once.
And she had kissed him back.
She pressed her hands to her eyes.
“What am I doing?” she breathed.
She wasn’t ready to give up on her marriage. But she couldn’t forget Tom’s words either.I can’t be married to someone like you.
She walked into the kitchen. The tile was cold under her socks. She opened a cabinet, reached for a mug, filled the kettle. The normalcy steadied her.
She hadn’t realized until she stood here how much of tonight had been dreamlike. How swiftly a kiss could turn into hope. How dangerous that was.
She carried the tea to the table and sat.
Her eyes drifted to the blank places where her decorations used to be—the bare stretch of wall, the empty corner.
She’d stupidly let herself believe that the mess, the glitter, the too-muchness was something he loved about her.
Now she knew the truth. Felt the wound of it still tender.
Tonight didn’t erase any of that.
The mug warmed her palms. Her breath slowed. The quiet settled deeper, fuller.
She’d danced with her husband in the snow. She’d kissed him. She’d felt something open—painful and beautiful.
But she also knew this:
He had tolikeher not just love her. She needed more than just love. He had to show her he could embrace all of her—color, chaos, Christmas, everything.
Not just tonight, but tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.
Lauren leaned forward, resting her forehead against the cool mug.
The ache in her chest wasn’t despair.
It was love.
CHAPTER 52
