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And she was going to enjoy her time with Matt.
She didn’t often think about those heady days when they’d first met. Not because the memory wasn’t precious, but simply because she thought mostly about the present and the future, not the past. She was wrapped up in the demands of everyday life, too busy for quiet thought or reflection. Talking to Izzy had made her think back to those early days. Had made her remember how she’d felt when she first met Matt.
Did she take Matt for granted? No, never that. But she was guilty of perhaps not paying enough attention. Some of her friends had a “date night” faithfully penned in the calendar, but after Poppy was born Brooke and Matt had drifted into spending a night at the weekend snuggling on the sofa to watch a movie while sharing a bottle of wine. A combination of exhaustion and babysitting challenges had somehow made this seem like the most appealing option.
But not tonight.
She took her dress into the bathroom and hung it on the back of the door while she did her makeup and secured her hair in a twist.
When she’d finished, she pulled on the dress and checked her reflection.
It was a form-fitting combination of velvet and lace in a shade of shimmering emerald.
She added a streak of gloss to her lips and walked into the bedroom.
“Wow.” Matt had been reading the book he’d borrowed from Mabel’s library, but he put it down when he saw her. “Now I’m in the mood for kissing.”
“How about the wine?”
“Maybe later.” He stood up and walked towards her. “You look stunning. I assume all this effort relates to whatever you were plotting with Izzy. Are you sure you should interfere?”
“I’m not interfering.” She slid earrings into her ears. “I’m facilitating. I hate missed opportunities, and those two are good together. Or at least they deserve to have the chance to discover if they’re good together.” She met his gaze. “Do you ever think about when we met?”
He raised his eyebrows, thrown by the sudden change of subject. “Not often. Why?”
“Because Izzy asked how we met and what it was like, and I realised it was something I hadn’t thought about for a long time.” The conversation with Izzy had stayed with her. “She made me think about things, that’s all.”
“What things?”
“Us.” She said the words softly. “Life gets busy and so often it’s us as parents, or us as son-in-law or daughter-in-law—our relationship is focused on other people. It’s all about how we fit with others. But right back at the beginning we were just Brooke and Matt.”
He stroked a strand of hair away from her face. “I think we were Matt and Brooke.”
“You were annoying back then, too.” She hooked her finger into the front of his shirt. “Do you think it’s normal when the children are young to forget about being an us?”
“I’m sure it is. Most of the time we’re focused on getting through each day.”
“I know. But I want to do better. I don’t want the girls to both leave home and for us to look at each other and realise that us doesn’t exist anymore. That we’ve somehow crumbled.”
“We’re always going to be an us,” he said. “Why would you think otherwise?”
“I don’t know. I think it’s the conversation with Mabel. It made me realise how fragile relationships are. How easily they can go off course, perhaps without you even noticing. How easy it is to say something or not say something and then suddenly this beautiful thing you had is cracked.”
“How can you think that? Nothing is cracked.” He was frowning. “I love you and I’m pretty sure you love me, because otherwise why would you laugh at my jokes?”
Her eyes misted. “I’m sorry I was stressed about getting to my parents’ for Christmas. And I appreciate your efforts to make that happen.”
“Is that where this is coming from? Because we were scratchy with each other in the car? A few cross words don’t break a marriage, sweetheart. And we don’t crack and shatter apart because we hit a bump. Maybe we’re bruised occasionally, but we don’t break. We need to keep talking, that’s all. And kissing.” He lowered his head and then paused. “If I kiss you, will I ruin your lipstick?”
“Yes! You can’t do that.”
“Then I’ll wait until later.” He released her reluctantly. “All right, let’s do this. Let’s go downstairs and hope Mabel can wave her magic wand and produce the romance you’re hoping for.”
The snow was falling beyond the windows, the room was cosy and softly lit, and for a moment, she wished they could curl up on the bed and spend the evening talking about those months after they’d first met. She wished that the evening could be just the two of them. That they could spend a few hours being an us.
But there would be time for that later, when dinner was over.
She was good at facilitating romance for other people, but what about herself?
