Chapter 9 #2
"These are beautiful." She picks up a wooden bear, admiring the detailed carving. "Did you make these?"
"Some." I accept the mug she offers. "That one was my grandfather's. He taught my father, who taught me."
She handles the ornament with newfound reverence. "Family tradition."
"Three generations." I don't add that it ends with me. That there's no fourth generation to pass these skills to. The thought sits uncomfortably in my chest.
We work in companionable silence, unboxing decorations and arranging them for placement.
When everything is ready, I string the lights while Judith watches, offering commentary on placement that I pretend to find annoying but secretly appreciate.
Her attention to detail matches my own, another unexpected compatibility.
Once the lights are arranged to mutual satisfaction, we begin hanging ornaments.
I explain the significance of each hand-carved piece like the bear my grandfather made the year my father was born; the eagle my father carved to commemorate my enlistment; the cabin I created after inheriting this property.
"What's this one?" She holds up a small wooden heart, simple but precisely crafted.
I hesitate, memories surfacing. "I made that after my first deployment. Rough time. Woodworking helped."
She studies the piece, understanding dawning in her eyes. "It's beautiful."
She hangs it near the top of the tree, handling it with care that makes my chest tighten. We continue decorating, moving around each other with the ease of a long established couple rather than a temporary arrangement barely two weeks old.
When the final ornament is placed, I plug in the lights. The tree comes to life, multicolored bulbs illuminating the handcrafted ornaments. Against the backdrop of falling snow visible through the windows, the effect is undeniably perfect.
"It's beautiful." Judith stands beside me, genuine appreciation in her voice. "Thank you for sharing this with me."
I turn to her, finding the colored lights reflected in her dark eyes.
Without conscious thought, I reach for her, pulling her against me.
Her arms wrap around my waist, head resting naturally against my chest. We stand that way for long moments, watching the tree lights twinkle, snow falling silently outside.
"Dario." Her voice comes soft against my shirt. "What are we doing?"
The question I've been avoiding. The reality we've both been dancing around.
"I don't know." Honesty seems the only option. "This wasn't the plan."
She pulls back enough to look up at me. "No, it wasn't."
"December 26th..." I trail off, the date hanging between us.
"Is still the agreement." She finishes, something sad flickering in her eyes. "Nothing's changed."
Except everything has changed, and we both know it. What started as a business arrangement has evolved into something neither of us anticipated. Something that makes the approaching deadline feel like a guillotine blade rather than a liberation.
"We should stick to the plan." I say the words even as something in me rebels against them. "Avoid complications."
She nods, though her expression suggests she's no more convinced than I am. "Right. The plan."
But even as I speak of maintaining our original agreement, my arms tighten around her. My body betraying what my mind insists is necessary. She must feel the contradiction because a small, sad smile touches her lips.
"Maybe we should just enjoy today." She suggests, offering a temporary reprieve from decisions neither of us seems ready to make. "Just today."
"Just today," I agree, the compromise feeling both necessary and insufficient.
I bend to kiss her, gentle at first, then with increasing hunger as she responds. When I finally pull back, her eyes remain closed for a moment, lips slightly parted. The sight stirs something possessive in my chest.
"You're beautiful." The words escape without permission.
Her eyes flutter open, surprise evident in their depths. Not at the compliment itself, but at the raw honesty in my voice. I'm not a man given to flowery statements or casual flattery. We both know my words are unvarnished truth.
"You make me feel beautiful." Her admission comes with vulnerability that strikes me to my core.
I want to tell her that she is beautiful. That she's also brilliant, resilient, surprising. That watching her kneel for me in submission is the most powerful thing I've ever witnessed. That seeing her laugh in the glow of Christmas lights makes me want impossible things.
Instead, I kiss her again, pouring into the contact everything I can't yet say. When we break apart, breathless, understanding passes between us without words. We'll follow her suggestion. Enjoy today. Leave tomorrow's problems for tomorrow.
I lift her into my arms, carrying her toward the bedroom as snow continues to fall outside, creating a private world where a temporary wife and a temporary husband can pretend, just for today, that what's growing between them has a future beyond the contract that brought them together.
Tomorrow we'll remember the reality. The practical considerations. The original plan. But today—just today—we'll allow ourselves to forget.