“I don’t want to go.”“I heard you t

“I don’t want to go.”
“I heard you the first time, the second, and the third. Now be quiet and pull in the driveway slowly. The wine will tip over.”
“I hate family functions.”
Alexa prayed for patience. Nick reminded her of a kid who dragged his feet and wanted to stay home to play with his toys instead of see relatives.
The past two weeks had flown past in relative smoothness except for his growing complaints regarding the holiday. Maggie had reminded her Thanksgiving with the Ryans was more of a Halloween nightmare, so Alexa gave her husband wide berth, but refused to let him off the proverbial hook. “We don’t have a choice. As a married couple, we’re expected to show up for dinner. There won’t be too many people there, anyway.”
Nick snorted. “I’ll be bored.”
“Get drunk.”
He scowled and swung into the driveway. The pile of cakes and pies and wine clattered in the backseat but held steady. She reached for the doorknob and stretched out her legs. The bite of November wind ripped up her skirt and through the thick tights she wore under her mini. She shivered and looked at the pile of cars already lined up on the lawn. “I knew we’d be late.”
His features changed, became softer, more intimate. Those chestnut depths gleamed with memories from early this morning, of warm, tangled sheets and cries and long wet kisses. Her body came to immediate attention. Her nipples pressed against her purple sweater, and an achy heat pooled between her thighs.
He reached over and ran one finger down her cheek, then lightly traced her lower lip. “I clearly asked if you wanted to continue, remember?”
Heat rushed to her cheeks. “You shouldn’t have started in the first place. You knew we’d be late.”
“We could skip the whole thing and spend Thanksgiving in bed.” Her stomach dipped at his low murmur. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re trying to bribe me.”
“Is it working?”
“No. Let’s go.” She heard his low laugh behind her. He knew she lied. He always tempted her. After two weeks of steady sex, she still couldn’t get enough of her husband, and a day in bed with him sounded like sheer heaven.
She carried in the pies and he grabbed the wine. The door was open and they were immediately folded into family chaos, with loud greetings and handshakes, drinks thrust into open hands, and a thousand different conversations overlapping.
“Hi, Ma.” She kissed Maria and took an appreciative sniff of the plump turkey filled with sausage stuffing. A cloud of moist, fragrant steam rose in the air and wrapped her in warmth. “Smells great. You look pretty.”
“Thanks. It’s amazing what paying off the mortgage does for stress load.”
Fear shot through her. She leaned in. “Mom, please don’t mention it—remember our deal?”
Maria sighed. “Ok, honey. I’m just so grateful and it feels strange not to say something.”
“Mom!”
“Fine, my lips are sealed.” Her mom gave her a quick kiss and readied the tray of antipasto.
Alexa plucked a green olive from the tray of appetizers. “I’ll bring it out.”
“Don’t eat them all on the way. Where’s Nick?”
“Talking with Dad in the living room.”
“God help us.”
Alexa smiled and joined her husband. He reached for a black olive and popped it in his mouth. Typical, she thought. He liked black olives, she liked green. So many ways they were complete opposites. In other aspects, they were perfectly in sync.
Her niece raced down the hall. Honey blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders, and her legs and feet were bare underneath her green party dress, a rich velvet with a frothy skirt that made her seem like a fairy princess. Taylor hurled herself into her arms with a leap, and Alexa caught her with ease. She slid her around to rest on one hip. “Hey, squirt.”
“Aunt Al, I want ice cream.”
“You can have some later.”
“Okay. I want an olive.”
“Green or black?”
She made a terrible face only a toddler could master. “Green is yucky.”
Alexa rolled her eyes at her husband’s look of triumph. Nick took a fat black olive and stuck it on the end of his finger. “The child has great taste. Here you go.” He offered it up and watched her chew in delight. “Good?”
“Hmmm. Now can I have ice cream?”
Alexa laughed. “After dinner, okay? Go tell Mommy to finish dressing you.”
“Okay.” Taylor scurried off and left the adults together amidst drinking and munching and frequent bursts of laughter.
Alexa noted her husband took her advice and started drinking early. He held his Scotch and soda with tight fingers. He nodded at various conversations, but retained an air of assessing distance that caused her heart to ache. Then his gaze broke and lifted to meet hers.
Fire.
The air lit and charged around them. He raised his brow in comic wickedness and motioned toward one of the bedrooms.
She shook her head and laughed. Then spun on her heel to go find her cousins.
…

Nick watched his wife enjoy the closeness of her family. He remembered his own holidays at home. His mother drank while his father made passes at all the other attractive female guests.