by Noelle Adams
“Okay.” He was scanning pages quickly, and Sophie was quite sure he was reading them thoroughly at a very fast speed. Thomas was incredibly smart. Sometimes intimidatingly so. That was obvious from just a simple conversation. “This doesn’t look too shallow.”
“I think Mia would really like them. But I can order them in paperbacks if you want. These are early editions and so they’re pretty expensive.”
Thomas opened the front flap to look at the price written in very faint pencil. “This is fine. I’ll take these for her. I’ll make sure she takes care of them.”
Sophie perked up. She hadn’t even had to use aggressive sales techniques, and she’d made the most lucrative sale for the store in several months. “Great. I’ll get them packed up. It’s a wonderful present.”
She was packing the books up and laughing about Thomas’s account of how Abigail had crouched down to pick out a box of cereal in the store and then had been unable to stand up again in her very pregnant state when she felt a presence at her side.
She glanced up to see Mark. He was looking between her and Thomas, and there was something wary on his face.
Sophie smiled brightly. “Mark, this is Thomas Morgan.”
Thomas held out a hand in a friendly greeting. “I heard you were in town. It’s great to meet you.”
Mark shook the other man’s hand but didn’t smile. He turned to Sophie. “Do you need any help?”
She was a bit disappointed that he wasn’t returning Thomas’s friendliness, but she wasn’t going to get discouraged. “Can you get a bag from under the counter? One of the bigger ones, since we need to fit all the books in.”
“Are you all planning to stay in Willow Park?” Thomas asked, his green eyes thoughtful and intelligent as they moved from Sophie to Mark.
When Mark didn’t answer, Sophie said, “We’re not sure yet. We’re still trying to figure things out.”
“Of course.” He pulled out a credit card, not batting an eye when Sophie gave him the final, very high total. While Sophie slid his card, he added, “Well, I hope you all end up staying, if it works out for you. Abigail will be so sad if you leave town.”
Sophie smiled, ridiculously pleased by the comment, by the evidence that Abigail valued their friendship as much as she did. “If we end up leaving, I’ll definitely come back to visit. I’m not sure what I’d do without her.”
Mark was still silent, and he felt bristly for some reason, although she couldn’t imagine why he would be so. Since his mood seemed prompted by Thomas, she decided not to extend the conversation. So soon Thomas was on his way with his large bag of books for Mia and the suggestion that they get together for dinner sometime.
When he was gone, Sophie turned to look up at Mark’s face. She couldn’t read his expression as well as she used to—partly because of the beard and partly because he wasn’t reacting in normal ways.
“Who was that?” he demanded with a frown.
No way to mistake that expression. “What do you mean? I told you, his name is Thomas Morgan. He’s a surgeon at the hospital.”
“He knows you’re married?” Mark was glaring at the door out of which Thomas had disappeared.
Sophie almost choked on her surprise. “What are you talking about? Of course, he knows I’m married. He’s married too.”
“He was very friendly for being married.”
She was so baffled and astonished that she wasn’t as careful as she normally was in her response. “That’s crazy! He’s a friend of mine, I guess, but he’s mostly the husband of one of my best friends. He’s insanely in love with his wife. He’s not remotely interested in me that way. You can’t possibly think that I’d—”
“Okay,” Mark interrupted. He still didn’t look happy. “You just seemed very friendly.”
Sophie was so flustered she couldn’t immediately respond. She hadn’t been flirting with Thomas. She was sure of it. And he hadn’t been flirting with her. Mark must have misread it and gotten jealous. He’d never been jealous before. He’d never been that kind of man. He’d always found it hilarious when men were interested in her, only to discover she was unavailable. But Mark was still getting back to who he used to be and getting used to their marriage.
It was natural that he’d be a little insecure about their relationship. She wasn’t going to demand that he be reasonable, no matter what her first instinct was.
“We’re friends,” she repeated. “That’s why we were friendly. That’s all. Neither of us would ever dream of anything else. I promise.”
“Okay.”
She reached up to touch his face gently. “Mark? You believe me, don’t you?”
Mark stared down at her, and finally he nodded.
She let out a breath. “I love you. There’s never been anyone but you for me. You know that. I’ve waited for you all this time, and I’ve never even imagined wanting anyone else.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s going to be a little weird between us sometimes, I guess. Let’s just be ourselves, and we can work it out and get back to where we were before. I’m sure we can.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s what you want, right?”
“Yes. I do. I want to be who we were before.” His words were low and hoarse, and she knew they were sincere.
“Good, then. Me too. That’s what I want too. We can help each other get there.”
She pulled his face down so she could kiss him. He kissed her back, and she felt better about things between them.
There were going to be a few speed bumps, but they were doing just fine.
***
After work that evening, they walked down the block to the grocery store to pick something out for dinner, as she always did.
“What do you feel like eating?” she asked.
He gave a half-shrug. “Anything is fine with me.”
She wished he would put forward a few opinions, but he seemed more comfortable letting her make the decisions for the time being.
She could do that. She would do anything he needed her to do. “Okay. Maybe steak tonight. That might be good.” Steak had always been his favorite.
“Sounds good to me.”
They walked to the meat counter, and the store manager came out of the back and greeted Sophie by name. He said he had in some great sirloins, so they picked out two. Then they got potatoes and salad stuff and were on their way home.
When they got to the apartment, Sophie pulled out her grill pan and started to heat it up for the steaks. As soon as it was hot enough, she put on the steaks.
“When did you learn to do that?” he asked, watching as she worked.
She was surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”
“Just that you never knew how to make steaks like that before. When did you start doing that?”
“Oh. I don’t even know. Some time.” She tried to think back, realizing that naturally he wouldn’t know she’d learned to cook in the last few years. “I guess I just picked a few things up after I moved here. Willow Park doesn’t have as many options for eating out, so I had to cook more often.”
He was just standing around next to her, and that wasn’t like him at all. Before he’d left the country, he’d always helped out around the house, and he’d been better in the kitchen than she was. Remembering they were supposed to be helping each other get back to who they’d been, she said, “Do you mind cutting up the peppers and tomato for the salad?”
“Sure.”
She babysat the steaks as he made the salad, and in a few minutes their dinner was done.
The steaks were perfect, and Mark ate all of his, so she considered the meal a complete success.
He looked content and relaxed as he leaned back in his chair afterwards, and Sophie had enough courage to ask, “What did you eat? There, I mean.”
His expression changed, and he stared down at his plate. But, to her relief, he answered immediately, “It
depended. Sometimes almost nothing. Sometimes regular food. It depended on who was on duty.”
“Oh. I guess that makes sense. There were some people who were decent to you?”
“A few.”
“Okay.” She hated the thought of him imprisoned for so long with people who hated him and those like him. She hated the thought of it so much that it almost made her sick. “I’m glad there were a few.”
He nodded and didn’t speak, and she decided not to push any further. She didn’t want to pressure him too much and have him clam up. In the prep sessions she’d had in D.C., they’d warned her about doing that. Better to talk in small moments and let him open up a little more every day.
They washed dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. Then Mark asked, “What do you normally do in the evenings?”
“Not much. I walk on the treadmill, or talk on the phone, or watch TV usually.” She felt kind of restless and realized it was because she needed some exercise. “Do you want to take a walk? It’s not too cold out there this evening.”
“Sure.”
They walked around Willow Park, and she pointed out spots of interest and where the people she knew lived. He listened, evidently interested in her commentary.
They were close to the apartment again when he finally said softly, “You’re different.”
She straightened up. “What?”
“You’re different. You didn’t used to be so…so independent.”
“What?” she asked again, confused and ridiculously guilty. “I’m not all that different.”
“Yes, you are. You used to go along with anything I wanted, letting me make decisions. You used to not like to do anything by yourself. You used to make me kill every bug.”
All of that was true. She hadn’t been weak before, but she’d been yielding because she wanted everyone to be happy, and a lot of decisions she just didn’t care about. She’d also used to be very social, not liking to do anything alone.
She had changed, she realized. It was by necessity, but she’d changed nonetheless.
Just like Mark had changed.
Maybe he felt like he was coming home to a stranger too.
“I guess I’ve changed some,” she admitted. “But I think the core of me is still the same. And now that things are normal again, I can get back to my old self. Don’t you feel the same way yourself?”
His features twisted slightly. “I…I don’t know. I don’t know if the core of me is even left.”
Her throat and chest ached. “It is there.” She held his face in both hands. “It is there. I can still see it.”
He made a rough sound in his throat and took her in his arms. “I hope so,” he said at last, against her shoulder.
It felt like he needed her, and she desperately needed that affirmation. She hugged him back, trying to convey her feelings in the grip she had on him. “We’re going to be fine, Mark. We’re going to get back to who we were,” she said. “I know it.”
“I’m glad you know it,” he admitted. “Because I’m not always sure myself.”
“Well, I’m sure enough for both of us.”
She wanted to cry but she restrained the impulse, since she wanted to make sure he knew she was strong in this, she wasn’t doubting or wavering.
She added, “We don’t need to rush things. We have plenty of time.”
They did have plenty of time, but she hoped things would be better by Christmas. The holidays and the end of the year felt like a good time to have a fresh start, to begin their lives again.
It was three weeks still until Christmas. Surely, in that amount of time, they could put their marriage back together again.
Six
The following Monday, Sophie woke up snuggled against Mark’s body. It was mostly dark in the room, so she knew it was still early.
She was tired and felt warm and cozy nestled against him like this, so she didn’t roll away. He was holding her in his sleep, in that way he’d started since he’d gotten back.
He’d never done that before. He’d always rolled over after he fell asleep, explaining that he needed some space. She had never minded, since she knew how much he loved her, but it was strangely moving to feel him holding her tightly like this, when he was asleep and unaware of what he was doing.
She tried very hard to stay still, since she knew he woke up if she moved around too much. But she had an itch on her back, and one of her feet had gone to sleep, so she eventually had to shift a little, trying to scratch her back and shake her foot very discreetly at the same time.
“Are you having a spasm or something?” Mark muttered, his eyes still shut.
She giggled and shook her foot more rigorously. “My foot is asleep.”
“So was I, once upon a time.”
She knew he was teasing from the dryness of his tone. She gave him a gentle swat on the chest as he opened his eyes. “I can only go so long without circulation in my foot.”
He’d rolled onto his back and was shaking the arm that had been beneath her. “My hand empathizes with your foot.”
When her foot started to feel again, she nestled back down at his side, pulling the covers up over both of them. Since he was lying on his back, she had access to his chest, so she stroked it possessively. It was still thinner than it used to be, but she loved the feel of it. She played with the coarse dark hair as she rested her head on his shoulder.
His arm was around her again, this time by necessity, given her position, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“It’s not even five yet,” he murmured, evidently having glanced at the clock.
“I know. We don’t need to get up any time soon.”
He tightened his arm around her. “Good.”
They lay together in silence, and she kept fiddling with his chest hair, until finally he asked wryly, “Are you trying to braid it or something?”
She gave a little huff of amusement. “I don’t think it’s long enough to braid.”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
Feeling soft and playful, she brought her other hand up to his chest. “Although I could try.”
“Seriously?”
“Why not?” She was hiding a smile as she studiously made a half-hearted attempt to braid a small bit of his chest hair. He had more than some men but not an unusually thick amount. She’d always liked how it looked and felt.
“Having any luck down there?” he asked after a minute, lifting his head to look down at her progress.
She couldn’t restrain the giggle as she smoothed down the hair. “No luck at all.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” He adjusted her position so she was nearly lying on top of him, and both of his arms were around her. “I would have had to seriously rethink my grooming habits, if you could braid it.”
She was smiling as she lifted a hand to stroke his beard. “I bet I could braid your beard.”
“Let’s not try that one.”
With another giggle, she relaxed on him, idly stroking his shoulder.
They were silent for several minutes, and her heart warmed at how intimate it felt, being close to him like this, having him hold her like this, like he really wanted to be with her and wasn’t acting out a role, the way it sometimes felt he was.
After a long time, she tilted her head up to make sure he was still awake. When she saw his eyes were open, she smiled and murmured, “I don’t want to get up.”
“You don’t have to yet.”
“In another half-hour or so, I guess. I need to get to the store early today. We had someone drop by a few hundred used books I need to sort and get up on the shelves.”
“That’s a lot of books.”
“I know. She was doing some household purging, I think, and getting rid of books she didn’t want anymore. That happens a lot. You wouldn’t believe some of the crazy stuff we get in.”
“Do you shelve all of it?”
“Nah. Just the stuff that’s likely to sell. We can be more flexible with the used books tha
n the new books, though. Those, we can only afford the ones I know will sell.”
Mark was quiet for a minute, one of his hands stroking her hair. Then he said, “You really enjoy working at the bookstore, don’t you?”
“Well, yeah.” She tried not to sound surprised, since there was no reason why he would have known such a thing. He’d only seen her in the bookstore for a week or so.
“I never would have thought you’d like something like that.”
“Me either,” she admitted. “I loved that PR job I used to have, but then…” She sighed, but resisted the temptation to back away from what she’d been planning to say. “But then, after you were gone, that whole job felt so…so fake and shallow. I know it’s not fair. It was a worthwhile job. I just couldn’t seem to do it.”
“Yeah. I can see that, I think.”
“And I really enjoyed working with Grandpa in the bookstore. I just started it for something to do, really. A way to get away. But I think I’m good at it. I have all sorts of ideas to build up the business, if I can talk Grandpa into it.”
“I’m sure you can. You could always talk anyone into anything.” Mark’s low murmur was warm and affectionate.
She flushed with pleasure. “We’ll see how it goes. I might not have time to do all my plans, if we end up moving. But that would be just fine.” She added that last, since she didn’t want Mark to think she was hinting that they should stay in Willow Park.
Mark had never been a small-town guy, and the jobs he’d always wanted had to be in big cities. If he wanted to return to the man he’d been, they would have to move.
And it was fine. Sophie would do anything she had to do, in order to get them back to where they’d been before.
***
Mark didn’t go to the bookstore with her that day, like he had the week before. It worried her, but after their nice morning, she didn’t want to make an issue of it.
Surely it was okay to let a few things go. Yes, he wanted her to help him be who he used to be, but she didn’t always want to feel like she was pushy and nagging.
When she came back from the store at around six, she realized Mark hadn’t even left the apartment all day. He was still wearing the sweatshirt and flannel pants he’d been wearing when she left that morning.
