Read Online A Perfect Marriage by Laurey Bright - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laurey Bright
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
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Rotorua, so she washed that first in the basin. Head wrapped in a towel, she emptied a generous amount of bath salts into the tub before lowering herself into the steaming water.
Half an hour later she tucked another towel about her and used the electric dryer on her hair, then slipped into one of her more glamorous nightgowns. Getting into bed, she picked up a book and began to read. When her eyelids drooped, she looked at the bedside clock and wondered how long Max would be, contemplating going to find him. She heard her father climb the stairs, use the bathroom, and close his bedroom door, but still Max didn't come. In the end she put the book down and switched off the light, falling almost instantly asleep.
As the weeks slid by, Ted took a mild interest in the real estate columns of the classified ads, but seemed unimpressed with the very attractively laid-out villages that Celine took him to see. He began pottering around the garden, advising Max on what sprays to use for black spot and aphids and how to prune the shrubs. Max thanked him politely and later asked Celine if Ted had decided yet where he was going to live.
"Give him time," she said. "It's a big decision."
"How much time does he need?" Max sounded unusually irritable.
Although, Celine reflected, it wasn't so unusual these days. In fact, he'd been uncharacteristically moody lately. "What's the matter?" she said. "Are you feeling all right?"
"There's nothing wrong with me. You're looking a bit strained, though. Do you want me to speak to your father, try to get him to make up his mind?"
"No. If you want him to go-"
"I didn't say that!"
"It's what you meant, though."
"Oh, for God's sake ! "
It was the kind of tense, unconstructive argument that they'd been having too often lately. As always, it ended in them both stiffly apologising, but with nothing really resolved. Sometimes Celine wondered if it would be better to have a real, loud, shouting quarrel, rather than these lowkey exchanges of barbed remarks. But, that had never been their style.
And neither had ever harboured grudges or nursed resentments. Their differences had been quickly resolved by a gracious admission of fault, a smile exchanged, or a compromise that satisfied both of them. And sometimes by a wry remark that set them both laughing and dissolved any bitter aftermath.
They seemed somehow to be losing their capacity for laughter. Max was spending less and less time at home; his hours at work appeared to have escalated back to the level ' of when he'd been in his twenties and fighting for a permanent place in the firm.
Celine found herself tied as she hadn't been before, by a reluctance to leave her father alone for long. Accustomed to snacking at lunchtime on fruit or a tomato sandwich, she now had to think about giving him a nutritious meal, because he seemed thin and almost frail. Also, he was in the habit of sitting down for morning and afternoon teas, and taking a hot drink with a biscuit before going to bed. She knew he was quite capable of making a cup of tea himself, but if she was around he assumed that she would have one, too. And then he'd talk about Dora, about Celine's mother, about the past. Thinking that 1e probably needed a sympathetic ear as part of the grieving process, she sat patiently listening.
Somehow, exercising patience with him left her a little short of it for Max. Often she found herself profoundly irritated with both of them, as when Ted, following a lifelong habit, cast the newspaper on the floor with its pages sliding into disorder, and Max picked it up and precisely realigned their edges before folding it into a perfect rectangle and placing it in the magazine rack by the sofa.
But what troubled her most was that Max seemed to have lost interest in their sex life. They hadn't made love for ages.
She'd thought at first it was out of consideration for her, because she had been tired when she'd first brought Ted home, and was still
Half an hour later she tucked another towel about her and used the electric dryer on her hair, then slipped into one of her more glamorous nightgowns. Getting into bed, she picked up a book and began to read. When her eyelids drooped, she looked at the bedside clock and wondered how long Max would be, contemplating going to find him. She heard her father climb the stairs, use the bathroom, and close his bedroom door, but still Max didn't come. In the end she put the book down and switched off the light, falling almost instantly asleep.
As the weeks slid by, Ted took a mild interest in the real estate columns of the classified ads, but seemed unimpressed with the very attractively laid-out villages that Celine took him to see. He began pottering around the garden, advising Max on what sprays to use for black spot and aphids and how to prune the shrubs. Max thanked him politely and later asked Celine if Ted had decided yet where he was going to live.
"Give him time," she said. "It's a big decision."
"How much time does he need?" Max sounded unusually irritable.
Although, Celine reflected, it wasn't so unusual these days. In fact, he'd been uncharacteristically moody lately. "What's the matter?" she said. "Are you feeling all right?"
"There's nothing wrong with me. You're looking a bit strained, though. Do you want me to speak to your father, try to get him to make up his mind?"
"No. If you want him to go-"
"I didn't say that!"
"It's what you meant, though."
"Oh, for God's sake ! "
It was the kind of tense, unconstructive argument that they'd been having too often lately. As always, it ended in them both stiffly apologising, but with nothing really resolved. Sometimes Celine wondered if it would be better to have a real, loud, shouting quarrel, rather than these lowkey exchanges of barbed remarks. But, that had never been their style.
And neither had ever harboured grudges or nursed resentments. Their differences had been quickly resolved by a gracious admission of fault, a smile exchanged, or a compromise that satisfied both of them. And sometimes by a wry remark that set them both laughing and dissolved any bitter aftermath.
They seemed somehow to be losing their capacity for laughter. Max was spending less and less time at home; his hours at work appeared to have escalated back to the level ' of when he'd been in his twenties and fighting for a permanent place in the firm.
Celine found herself tied as she hadn't been before, by a reluctance to leave her father alone for long. Accustomed to snacking at lunchtime on fruit or a tomato sandwich, she now had to think about giving him a nutritious meal, because he seemed thin and almost frail. Also, he was in the habit of sitting down for morning and afternoon teas, and taking a hot drink with a biscuit before going to bed. She knew he was quite capable of making a cup of tea himself, but if she was around he assumed that she would have one, too. And then he'd talk about Dora, about Celine's mother, about the past. Thinking that 1e probably needed a sympathetic ear as part of the grieving process, she sat patiently listening.
Somehow, exercising patience with him left her a little short of it for Max. Often she found herself profoundly irritated with both of them, as when Ted, following a lifelong habit, cast the newspaper on the floor with its pages sliding into disorder, and Max picked it up and precisely realigned their edges before folding it into a perfect rectangle and placing it in the magazine rack by the sofa.
But what troubled her most was that Max seemed to have lost interest in their sex life. They hadn't made love for ages.
She'd thought at first it was out of consideration for her, because she had been tired when she'd first brought Ted home, and was still
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