“Uh, Pat?” I ask, realizing only after the fact that he can’t hear me. This closet is deep, and I’ve ventured in farther than I thought. “Pat!” I cry when I’m near the door again. He pops his head out of his own walk-in. His hair is all mussed from the hat he was wearing earlier, winging out at the ends. He’s always been his cutest when he’s rumpled.
“Yeah?”
“Is your closet also full of velvet dresses, bonnets, and black patent-leather heels with decorative buckles on them?” I ask.
He furrows his brow. “No, why is your— Oh.” He starts laughing when the reality registers for him.
I roll my eyes, but laugh a little, too, pushing the door open farther so he can see what I changed into—a holly-patterned nightgown that goes all the way down to my ankles with a high, frilly neckline. All I need is a lit candle on a carrier to complete the Dickensian look. “What’s so funny? You’re notwildlyattracted to me in this?” I ask playfully, cocking an eyebrow and putting my hands on my hips.
“What gave you that impression? Haven’t I ever told you about my interest in Victorian-era role-play?” he asks, coming out of his closet in a matching set of red flannel pajamas, fuzzy sleep socks, and holding a ridiculously long, pointed nightcap. It’s a winning, cozy look for him.
“Then, Mr. Claus, it’s your lucky day,” I say, dropping the collar to reveal one shoulder, shimmying it a little. “There are plenty more where this came from.”
“Good.” He shakes his head, smiling. “Hold on. I’ll grab you a pair of pajamas from my closet.”
“Don’t bother,” I say, moving toward the bed, enjoying the sway of the loose-fitting fabric. My body is beyond tired. Socializing with your in-laws and making a move halfway across the globe can wear you out. “I kind of like it. It’s got good airflow.”
“Are you… wearing anything under that?” Patrick asks, eyes hooded.
Some of my heated attraction from the couch at our house comes roaring back. “Want to check? I’ll even let you do ittwice.” I sit on the edge of the bed, hands sliding across the softest comforter imaginable.
Our sex life could use a magical resurrection.
He opens, then closes his mouth, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “As much fun as that sounds, I’m pretty beat now.”
My heart-fire sizzles out. “Yeah, of course. Me, too.” I try not to sound too disappointed, even if rejection clunks low in mystomach. I could’ve rallied, but better to be practical about this, I guess.
Baby steps.
Once we’ve brushed our teeth and washed our faces at the Jack and Jill (or, in our case, Jack andJack?) sinks, we claim our usual sides of the bed and get comfortable under the covers. The mattress is the perfect firmness, and the pillows are cushy.
I’m lying down on my side when, after about ten minutes, I hear: “Quinn?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m excited we’re doing this.” He sounds childlike, nearly buoyant.
I smile into the darkness caused by the blackout blinds. “Me, too.”
After a pause, he wiggles up behind me and spoons me, something he hasn’t done in a while. His warmth is welcome as we grow accustomed to this new bed, these new roles. Maybewe’llbe new, too.
22A WARM WELCOMEPATRICK
364 DAYS ’TIL CHRISTMAS
“Rise and shine, Clauses,” Hobart shouts cheerfully. A living alarm clock.
The screeching hum of the blackout blinds rising scares me into wakefulness. Hazy sunlight soaks the room all the way to the corners.
I jolt up. Swipe a hand across my crusty face.
Quinn doubles down. He hides his head beneath the pillow we’d been sharing for most of the night. “Ten more minutes,” Quinn groans sleepily into the cloud-like mattress. Weekday Quinn is a master of mornings. Never snoozes his alarm. Glugs at least one cup of coffee before leaving for school. Out the door on time, always. Weekend and school holiday Quinn is a sheet creature. He lurks in the darkness of our bedroom for hours after I’ve started my day.
When he was student teaching and during his first year, we often lazed in bed together on Saturday and Sunday mornings. We’d kiss and cuddle and tease one another until inevitably getting up to shower together and make breakfast together and go on walks together.
Lately, there hasn’t been muchtogetherfor us.
“No can do. A busy day ahead! Up and at ’em!” Hobart has all the makings of an overly chipper sergeant. No wonder he has this job.
