blushing,” David said quietly.
“No, I’m not. My cheeks are just flushed from the spicy salsa.”
He laughed.
“You guys gonna tell everyone on this side of the table what’s so funny?” Tanner wanted to know.
“Nope,” David said. “Private couple stuff. I’m sure the two of you understand, as sickeningly mushy as you are.”
“Hey, we’ve been on our best behavior today,” Lilah said, eyes wide. “I haven’t called Tanner sweetums a single time.”
Next to her, Tanner shuddered. “Whatever you do, don’t start now.”
“Of course not. You know that’s not my idea of romantic conversation.” Lilah slid closer to him on the vinyl seat, her voice dropping progressively as she whispered in his ear. “I’m more likely to say something like …”
Tanner cleared his throat, then looked across the table. “You guys eat fast. I have plans after this.”
Rachel chuckled along with everyone else, not so much fatigued now as sleepily sated. The food was excellent, and the company was enjoyable. She savored her chicken fajitas while Lilah confessed her top-ten list of things she worried would go wrong at the wedding. They swapped humorous tales of faux pas they’d witnessed, including the ceremony David and Rachel had attended early in their own marriage where the bride’s veil had been singed during the lighting of the unity candle—particularly ironic since her groom, the one responsible, was a fireman.
“I remember your wedding,” Tanner said, smiling at Rachel and David. “Flawless. The two of you are so organized, so perfect together.”
Rachel squirmed in her chair, startled when David took her hand, his fingers caressing hers briefly.
“Rach deserves the credit for that. The ceremony was at her family’s church, and she took care of all the details.”
“What was it like?” Lilah asked, snuggled against her fiancé’s shoulder.
“It was raining that day,” Tanner began.
“Which is supposed to be lucky,” Rachel interjected, “but I’ve never understood how people risk having outdoor weddings.”
“The storm let up during the ceremony. We all went outside to wait and throw birdseed as they got in their limo.” Tanner’s face grew more animated as he described the scene for Lilah. “I kid you not, just as they emerged on the church steps, the sun broke through the clouds and a rainbow appeared over their car. You can see it in some of the wedding photos. It was like they were driving off into their own Hollywood ending.”
Rachel bit her bottom lip. Hollywood ending? If they weren’t careful, it would be more like a tragic independent film with a depressing soundtrack.
“I don’t remember the rainbow,” David admitted. He was responding to Tanner’s story but staring into Rachel’s eyes. “I barely remember anything about the day, except how beautiful you looked, watching you walk down that aisle toward me and knowing I couldn’t possibly deserve you.”
The golden boy of Mistletoe not deserve her? But his aquamarine eyes radiated so much sincerity she couldn’t think straight. “David …”
“I know, I know. I’m giving them a run for their nauseating and mushy title. I should stop.” He managed to tear his gaze away, his voice more composed when he glanced at Tanner and Lilah. “If poor Ari were here, she wouldn’t be able to keep down her food. Thanks, though.”
Tanner raised an eyebrow. “For?”
“Reminding me of that day, how lucky I was. The wedding goes fast. All those months of planning, and then it turns out to be this blur. Try to hang on to it. Keep those memories, and don’t ever take each other for granted.”
Lilah’s gaze was watery. “If you’re making me cry now, I can just imagine the damage you’ll do during the toast!”
“Wear waterproof mascara,” Rachel suggested. “That’s my plan.” For getting through the ceremony, anyway. She was no longer certain how she was going to make it beyond that. When David said things that were so sweet and devoted, it was hard to remember why she’d ever believed they should be apart.
THE BABY book Rachel had retrieved from the very back of her closet warned that pregnant women were prone to vivid dreams, something to do with estrogen fluctuations and their effect on REM sleep. The book also assured mothers-to-be that in a time as emotional as pregnancy, nightmares were common and shouldn’t be taken as omens that something was wrong. Rachel was not having nightmares, though.
Far from it.
Saturday night, after the drive back to Mistletoe in the intimate dark of early evening, her husband’s body so close to hers in the cramped backseat that she could feel his heat through her clothes, David had stayed on her mind long after she’d fallen asleep. She’d awakened in the middle of the night from embarrassingly detailed erotic dreams, tangled in sweaty sheets with her body still throbbing in pleasure. Sunday night had brought more of the same, dreams that haunted her thoughts while she got ready for work on Monday. It was difficult to focus on something as mundane as mailing labels when, at random moments, she’d reexperience the slide of David’s muscled body against hers.
During the middle of one such flashback that afternoon, she tugged at the collar of her sweater, suddenly feeling as if it was about ten degrees too warm in here. Good thing May had run to the bank with the afternoon deposit, or Rachel would be fielding questions about her clearly flustered state.
She was jarred back to reality by an insistent buzzing, a printer alarm that signaled a jam. Bending her knees, she squatted down to correct the situation. With a little effort, she wrestled the crumpled papers free and hit Continue. The cranky printer claimed the next two sheets as sacrifice, eating them, as well. Swearing softly, she turned the machine off, then back on, waiting for a blinking green light before she tried again. The first page had just printed successfully when she heard the front door open.
“Hello,” she called, standing to greet a potential customer. “I’ll be right—” Tunnel vision pressed in around her, darkening rapidly to no vision whatsoever as her head went balloon-light and floaty. She thought she managed to squeak out a final word, though she wasn’t sure what, before she fell.
When she came to, Rachel was too disoriented to know how much time had passed. She was on the floor by the industrial printers, her feet propped on a carton full of paper. May was fanning her with a spiral notebook, worry pinching her face as she spoke into the phone cradled at her shoulder.
“Oh, you’re awake! Thank God. David, she’s awake.”
Rachel blinked, still dizzy.
“You want something to drink, sweetie? Maybe I should get you a glass of water. Here, you can talk to David.”
Rachel didn’t feel much like talking to anyone, but she was too dazed to do anything but accept the phone pressed into her hand. “H-hello?”
“You stay right there,” David said, his voice taut with concern. “I’m on my way.”
Her thoughts
