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On the first of December, Jamie left for Dublin, and Nerea and Callum flew back to Spain. Nerea loved this time of year there. They both missed Jamie immediately but there were other pleasures to compensate while they waited for him to rejoin them. The air in Spain, in contrast to London’s, was soft and mild. The sharp brightness of winter hadn’t fully set in, and mists threaded their way through the trees in the morning and evenings. The woods and fields were soft browns and tawnies, the sun mellow and gentle.
There was plenty to keep both of them busy. The wedding was scheduled for the day after Christmas in the village church, and the reception would be at the house. Which would make the day of the wedding hectic in the extreme but there was something proper and fitting about the party being held in an old house that had been in the family for so long. Until then, there were flowers to arrange, tents and heaters to plan for the back garden, and negotiations to be made with the church ladies about schedules. Margarita had settled on a lovely dark green and gold for her wedding colors, and in the evenings Nerea sketched different ideas for what to do with the heaps of pine boughs and gold ribbon they’d acquired while Callum sat reading aloud to her from a book.
* * *
“TONIO CALLED,” NEREA told Callum after they’d been at the house for a week. They were getting ready for bed: Callum was in the bathroom brushing his teeth while Nerea undressed and sorted her clothes into the proper laundry bins. It was dark outside, but over the fields Nerea could see pinpricks of light from their neighbors’ home. In here, their bedside lamps glowed warm and golden.
Callum made an inquisitive sound around his toothbrush.
“He offered to come by and make sure that all the tables and chairs we rented for the reception would work.”
“What did you say?” Callum asked.
“I said it was more kind than necessary. But he insisted that everything should be perfect for Margarita. So I told him I would talk to you and see if it was all right.” Nerea pulled on an old shirt of Callum's — long-sleeved and worn soft — that she loved to sleep in.
“You don’t need my permission to have him come over,” Callum said. Nerea thought he sounded rather embarrassed.
“I know I don’t,” she said with more patience than her husband deserved. “But before my ex-boyfriend who we nearly divorced over, whose catering company we are getting food and tables and chairs from, shows up at our house without the buffer of a crowd, I want to make sure you’re going to be okay.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“It was and so you keep saying. But are you going to be okay? And don’t do me the disservice of pretending, again.”
“It will be fine,” Callum said as he emerged from the bedroom. His brown hair was mussed and the fabric of his T-shirt showed the strong lines of his chest and the softer curve of his belly. Nerea found him devastatingly attractive, not least because of all the work and love and care that had gone into making their life together possible. Callum was gorgeous in both body and soul in a way the public world that sustained him would never understand. For all he had infuriated her in the past and surely would continue to in the future, Nerea counted herself one of the luckiest people in the world to have a love like this. A love that, now, she got to share with Jamie as well.
“Leigh told me about the conversation you two had. About him,” Nerea said.
“Ah. She did?”
“I’m not going to ask for details and I’m not going to ask if you’ve talked to Margarita about it yet. But I want you to know that I appreciate it. Rather greatly.”
“I should have apologized long ago,” Callum said as he climbed into bed. Nerea slipped under the covers next to him and was happy to be wrapped up in his arms, one of his long legs draped over hers.
“You did. To me. But not to the girls.”
“And it’s my intention to repair that. And not only because Margarita is still a bit annoyed we’re bringing our boyfriend to the wedding.”
“It’s a wedding,” Nerea said as Callum pressed a gentle kiss to her hair. “It wouldn’t be proper if one of our daughters wasn't annoyed at us for something.”
* * *
TONIO STOPPED BY THE house the next day. Nerea was in the kitchen experimenting with dessert recipes when he arrived. She wouldn’t have planned it so, but Callum was the one who answered the door and let him in, asking after his wife and girls as he led him down the hall to the kitchen.
It had been years since Tonio had been in the house. As he and Callum entered the kitchen Nerea couldn’t help but remember when he used to be here nearly every day — and usually overnight — walking into the house with groceries he’d picked up or with laundry he’d helped bring in from the line, or just with himself, happy to spend time with her and her girls. She could tell, as he looked around at the room, that he was thinking the same thing.
Tonio said hello when she looked up from where she’d been pretending to concentrate on her cookbooks.
“Hello, Tonio.”
“Not much has changed,” he said quietly.
“Some things have. Some things haven’t.”
With Callum standing there trying and failing to appear non-awkward, she wondered again if letting Tonio come by was a mistake. But then Callum, as he occasionally did so magnificently, rose to the moment. “Can I show you the garden?” he asked.
Tonio startled, like he’d forgotten the other man was even there. “Yes. Thank you.”
As they left through the back door, Nerea caught Callum’s eye and gave him a warning look.
Don’t worry, Callum mouthed back.
Nerea waited. Whatever was about to happen, she was glad for the moment alone. That was the downside of the wedding, of three children, of a husband, of Jamie. Never quite enough time alone, not to prepare for all the messes and moments they made.
She didn’t hear any shouting for a quarter of an hour but also didn’t manage to make any progress at all with her desserts. She gave up waiting, wiped her hands on a dish rag, and crept through the house toward her own garden.
If any work had been accomplished — and she didn’t know that it had — it was already done. Tonio was lounging in a chair, his legs crossed. Callum was perched on a low wall that separated the rose bushes from the orchard beyond. Of the two of them, he looked the more tense, but not angry. Ashamed. He was leant forward, eager to be understood.
He turned and saw her in the doorway, and his face instantly softened. In love with her like always. But Nerea wished he hadn’t seen her watching. Especially when Tonio followed Callum’s gaze and lifted a hand at her in acknowledgment.
“The life we should have had,” she said softly to herself, not loud enough for either of the men to hear. She smiled at both of them before taking her leave. Maybe this reconciliation meant they all could be friends and Tonio could bring his wife and their girls over; they could eat meals under the fig trees. Today was not yet that day, but it was closer than it ever had been before.
* * *
“WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?” Callum asked, stroking a hand through Nerea’s hair. She was lying half on top of him in their bed, his arms wrapped around her and his heartbeat a steady pulse in her ear.
“I don’t know.” She rubbed her wet face into Callum’s chest. Wordlessly, he flailed for a tissue from the night table for her. He even tossed it toward the waste basket when she was done blowing her nose. He missed, as he usually did. “That I didn’t think this was going to be this hard, and I thought it was going to be hard.”
Callum hummed, a small, soothing sound.
“Screw you for getting along with him now, you know?” Nerea wasn’t truly angry, but awkward avoidance had been better than this wrenching melancholy. She was glad Jamie wasn’t here to see it.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you so good at sorry all of a sudden?” Frustrated, she pushed at his shoulder.
“The world in which our three children and our twenty-four-year-old lover were all more mature than me was becoming depressing.”
“It’s very annoying,” Nerea said after a breathless pause. “That after twenty-nine years of marriage you keep finding new ways to impress me.”
“Sorry,” Callum said with a chuckle and a kiss to her shoulder. “But very much not sorry.”
“There’s something else I keep thinking about,” Nerea said after a quiet moment. “And since you’re feeling so very capable, maybe you can see a solution.”
“What’s that?”
“This house. We can’t live in it forever. Not with just us.”
“Why not?”
“It’s too isolated. It takes hours to get here from the airport and it’s half an hour to the nearest town. It’s always a little too cold even in the summer. And don’t even get me started about all the time and money it takes in upkeep.” It pained her to admit it, but it was all true. Her parents had given her this house long before they’d been too old to care for it themselves. Not a wedding present, but much later, perhaps forgiveness for all the drama around her marriage. It had taken years before her mother had forgiven her not only for being married in London, but for not having a Catholic service.
Now she could only think about her age and Callum’s, their daughter who was so insistent on being Spanish and having a Spanish life, and the boy from Ireland they were both in love with. While they had always had a flat in London, Spain had always been her only home. And suddenly, because Callum had finally gotten his act together, she felt like she was going to have to say goodbye to it.
“What do you want to do?” Callum asked.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Can we figure it out together?”
“Always.”
“Just checking.”
They lay in bed for a long time after that, not speaking, enjoying the stillness of the house and listening to the occasional ruffle of wind round the walls.