Page 159 of The Havenport Collection

Maggie

I took a fortifying gulp of coffee. The nest of lights at my feet was not going to untangle itself.

The Christmas lights were a lot like my thoughts right now—jumbled, confused, and incapable of order.

I hadn’t been sleeping. I was overwhelmed with feelings—anger, sadness, excitement—and I was no closer to having a clear plan.

Visions of my upcoming weekend away with Josh were messing with my head.

Since we’d started the process of repairing our marriage, he hadn’t once pressured me to get physical.

Through all the therapy sessions, late-night talks after putting the kids to bed, and daily texts, it never came up.

And it was probably for the best. Sex would complicate things, and we were finally making progress.

But I couldn’t quiet the nagging voice in my head.

In the old days, Josh couldn’t get enough of me.

Even after becoming parents, we would turn on cartoons for our kids and sneak away for Saturday morning quickies.

Things had waned over the years, but I was always reasonably confident in his desire for me.

But we had gotten close recently, even kissed, and yet it had gone no further. Did he still want me?

“Why did I volunteer for this?” Violet asked, kicking another nest of lights with her yellow boots.

“Because it’s great for the farm,” Cece explained. “More traffic in the off-season will only increase your brand visibility, and you didn’t do all this work on the barn for it to sit empty all winter!”

Violet had done some major renovations on an unused barn and had turned it into an event venue.

Cece and Liam had held their wedding here only a few weeks ago.

It was an incredible space, bright and airy with lots of rustic touches.

I expected Violet was going to find herself inundated with bookings very soon.

“Have another bagel,” Astrid urged, gesturing to the table we had filled with coffee and food. “Carbs help with stress.”

The Havenport Christmas house tour was this weekend, and Violet had enlisted our help decorating the old barn on her property.

It was an annual Havenport tradition to raise money for charity.

Residents opened their homes for the tour and decorated them to the nines .

It was basically my nightmare, but I understood why it was a great move for Violet.

Don’t get me wrong, my mother and I attended it together every year, mainly to check out people’s houses under the guise of charitable support.

I loved holiday decorations, and while my kids would mutiny if I changed things up, I did love seeing some more avant-garde interpretations of holiday decor.

Being the supportive, awesome group of friends we were, we moved Monday breakfast from the diner to the barn so we could decorate and catch up. And Astrid had gotten up at the crack of dawn to procure Havenport’s best bagels as an incentive.

I had finally made a breakthrough with my tangle of lights. Methodically pulling and threading, my work was paying off. And I was having fun with my friends, who were talking about work, upcoming holiday parties, and local gossip.

“This is such a gorgeous space,” Nora declared. “And it’s coming together perfectly. The rustic Christmas theme? These lavender wreaths? Genius.”

“Those were my mom’s idea.” Violet laughed. “I have no style.”

“That’s why you have us!” Emily exclaimed. “Now someone come help me fluff this tree. It’s looking a little sad.”

We busied ourselves hanging lights, decorating the three strategically placed Christmas trees, and hanging the burlap and lavender wreaths.

Cece created hanging mason-jar lanterns with sprigs of holly that lit up the entryway.

In only a couple of hours, we had transformed this place into a rustic winter wonderland.

“Are we still meeting up at the diner at eleven on Saturday to start the tour?” Emily asked.

“I’m going to make a day of it—manicure in the morning, champagne with lunch.

Derek’s brother is still staying with us and volunteered to take the kids for the whole day.

” She beamed. Emily had three kids under six and a husband who traveled for work. She was always in need of a break.

“He is a saint,” Nora said.

“He is. He’s this badass former Army Ranger, but he’s such a natural with my kids. They’re all in love with Uncle Garrett.”

“Eleven works for me,” Nora said. “I don’t have to work, and I want to spend the whole day soaking up Christmas cheer.”

I was fluffing the burlap ribbons on the garland that led up the staircase to the upper level. I wanted them to be fat, happy bows, but they were looking a little deflated.

“What about you, Mags?”

I lifted my head from my depressing bow. “Oh, I can’t make it this year.”

Everyone stared at me, eyes wide and mouths agape. I was a known Christmas lover and never missed the home tour.

Cece raised her eyebrows, signaling that I owed them a bit more of an explanation.

I braced myself for their reaction and cleared my throat. “Josh and I are going away for the weekend.”

Emily squealed. “This is fantastic news.” She dropped her box of ornaments and ran over to hug me.

“It’s not a big deal,” I insisted, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Our therapist suggested it, and Lucas offered up his cabin up in the White Mountains.”

“This is so romantic,” Cece said, a grin splitting her face. “You guys love the mountains. It will be so good for you to get away.”

“You’re definitely going to get some,” Nora joked, waggling her eyebrows.

My heart dropped to my stomach.

“What’s that look for?” she asked, waving a finger in my direction. “I only said it because I’m happy for you.”

I waved her off, hating my stupid face for betraying my feelings.

“It’s fine. I’m just not sure I’m up for that.

” It was the unfortunate truth. Physically, I was dying for it.

But emotionally? I wasn’t ready. I knew I was the one dragging my feet.

I was the one taking forever to move forward, but I wanted it to be right, and I wanted to feel totally comfortable.

But I worried that if I waited too long, Josh would lose interest. Or maybe he already had.

Violet placed her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t rush into anything you’re not ready for.”

We locked eyes. Violet was a relatively new member of the coven, but she was a single mom who had been through some shit. From day one, we understood one another on a cellular level. I put my hand over hers and squeezed.

“How do I know if I’m ready?” I asked softly.

“You’ll know.”

“Do what feels right,” Emily offered.

“I vote jump his bones,” Nora said, refilling her coffee. “It’s been what, a year?”

I looked at my feet. While most of my friends were totally comfortable discussing their sex lives, it mortified me. “More like two,” I said in a whisper.

“What?” Cece said, her brows drawn down.

“Things were rough for a while before we separated,” I explained, shrugging. I loved my friends, but aside from Emily, none of them had been in long-term marriages. Things slowed down after a while, and that was natural. At least that’s what I told myself.

Years and years of constant stress, a full schedule, and putting the kids first all but killed my sex drive. The desire wasn’t there anymore. By the last year we’d lived together, I had been too exhausted and too overextended to even connect with my own body, never mind my husband’s.

But things had changed a bit in the last few months. My sex drive had come back, and I was feeling things I hadn’t felt in a long time—lust, passion, and need. A need for my husband, and a need for that connection we once shared so easily.

“I think you need to get some,” Nora said. “Look around. All our friends are fucking their brains out every day, and I, for one, am jealous. Maggie, your husband is smoking hot. Make him earn his forgiveness with his tongue.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. This whole conversation made me vaguely uncomfortable. But I did love my friends. And they weren’t wrong. As terrified as I was to disrupt the peace that Josh and I had forged recently, part of me still wanted him and was curious about whether he wanted me too.

“That’s a good point,” Astrid added. “A lot of groveling can be achieved with his tongue.”

“Oh, yes. Make him grovel all weekend!” Emily squealed, nudging me with her elbow.

“He was always quite skilled at, er, groveling,” I said, giggling.

That was met with cheers from my friends, who raised their coffee cups in salute.

“But in all seriousness, do what you feel comfortable with. We love you and support you no matter what.”

“And Nora can always buy you a vibrator,” Astrid added.

Nora gave her a thumbs-up. “Correct. I’ll hook you up, girl.”

“That’s fine, thanks,” I said, blushing.

I didn’t need to add that I had my own vibrator, thank you very much .

And it had been getting a lot of action in the last few months.

It was Josh’s fault. He’d started working out and doing laundry.

How was I supposed to resist that? Every time he did a load of towels, my panties basically incinerated.

One night, I’d had to work late, and I came home to find him mopping the kitchen floor.

He had baked chocolate chip cookies with the kids and had wanted to clean up the mess.

I stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the rhythmic flex of his forearms as he pushed the mop.

It didn’t hurt that his hair was messy and he was wearing old jeans that hugged his ass perfectly.

It took every ounce of my willpower not to strip naked and drop to my knees right there on the damp floor.

Instead, I thanked him and said good night, and as soon as his car pulled out of the driveway I pounced on my vibrator like a lioness on a limping gazelle.

But this wasn’t a simple question of lust or desire.

We were working on our relationship, rebuilding the connection that had been lost. And I was proud of the progress we had made.

But I knew that if things got physical again, regaining control would be nearly impossible.

I would fall back in, and if things went south again, I wouldn’t survive it.