Papers for Roses

Chapter Thirty Eight

Chapter Thirty Eight

Megan

The days flew by so fast.

After they finished listening to the dreaded cassette tapes, Wade and Megan drove to Ben's mansion to hopefully find more pieces of evidence. They found a few of Emily's things, which Megan recognized, and some handwritten letters confirming that Ben and Emily had a brief affair. Afterward, they talked to Ben.

When they arrived at the hospital, Wade left the room saying that he wanted to give them privacy. It was awkward at first—both of them not really knowing what to talk about. Megan was the first one to break the ice, asking how Ben had been. Though it was clear that he was not doing well even when he said otherwise. The man was all skin and bones, far weaker since the last time they'd talked.

They exchanged pleasantries, talking about mundane things such as how Megan and Wade's marriage was going, his life before his illness and how bad his life in the hospital was. Their conversation had been comforting as she discovered Ben had the same kind of humor as his son.

Then, Ben apologized.

She had to admit that the apology was unexpected—the relief she felt even more so.

He apologized for pursuing Emily Carmichael. Apologized for ruining her parents' already fragile marriage. For the damage the affair had done to her emotional well being. For not doing his obligation as a father very well that she had to be in the midst of it all to this day. Lastly, Ben apologized for being a reckless, insensitive and unforgiving fool.

The emotions came barreling toward her in waves. She didn't realize how much she wanted to hear it coming from Ben. Didn't realize how many emotions fell to the back of her mind that she wanted not to acknowledge. She sat there, listening, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Dad would want to hear that, too."

Ben shook his head sadly. "I know, but he wouldn't."

He didn't fail to see the confusion in her eyes. He explained how their hatred toward each other had gone way back and that it was unfixable—that her Dad ruined his life as much as he ruined his.

Wade entered the room an hour later. She thanked Ben for allowing her to understand the situation more and said her goodbyes. Her husband then asked for a minute to talk with his father alone.

Before she closed the door, Megan heard Ben asking her husband, "Are you happy?"

She didn't stay to hear his answer to that.

The days that followed were quiet. Wade had finally agreed to join sleeping with her in the master's bedroom. They kissed and hugged, then spooned when it was time to bed. The bed felt small with him in it, but so much more comfortable. Neither of them attempted anything more—as if they had a silent agreement that they both wanted to know each other beyond the acts inside the bedroom.

Now that they were talking, Megan quickly learned that Wade didn't like talking about his feelings but had no problem explaining in a thousand words about the difference between a three-piece suit and a two-piece suit—starting from when one should be worn best. He also liked to cook, much to her surprise, and had hundreds of RnB songs on his playlist. Yes, we're in the stage of our relationship that I'm allowed to fiddle with his phone.

Then, on Monday, they celebrated Christmas Eve in Central Park. Wade insisted it wasn't a date, only a celebration. She didn't exactly get the difference but decided to go with it. He had enough trouble trying to be a good husband; she didn't want to pressure him as it was. At least, he's trying.

Wade took her to ice skating first. It wasn't her first time doing it, but that didn't mean she was any good. Wade, though? Ha. Not so much. Let's just say, we had enough bruises to last a lifetime when we're done.

"If one of your employees spotted you in there, I doubt they'd still call you boss," Megan said, snickering.

Wade bent down to remove her ice skates with a scoff. "They saw me on the cover of People. Naked, might I add. I thought I heard someone muttered 'daddy' while I was walking through Marketing Department." He visibly shuddered. "I doubt seeing me doing something normal will make a huge difference, Megan."

Megan burst out laughing. "Oh my god, is that why you prefer—" she lowered her voice "—calling you Mr. Simon than daddy? Heard it's a big hit in BDSM."

The fingers untying her ice skate stopped. Wade looked up and raised a brow, "I much prefer hearing that endearment from my children's lips." Wade winced. "Will you please drop it? The images this conversation conjured weren't pleasant."

She rolled her eyes. "Jeez. You're the one who brought it to serious territory. It's so hard to mess around with you sometimes."

He slid the second shoe off her feet and stood up to grab her heels. Wade placed them on her feet to slip it on. "And I don't understand your humor sometimes." He let out an oof when she swatted his arm. "Come on, let's eat."

She closed her eyes in relief. "Thank god."

Megan hadn't eaten dinner. She busied herself by finishing her dissertation and revising the final plans for the foundation. Wade was as busy doing his own thing.

Megan discovered that businessmen didn't have any day off. Even though it was the holidays, her mailbox never seemed to get tired of pinging with incoming messages from the Personal Assistants of the board.

She smiled. Good thing she was married to the boss who could take the time off any time he wanted.

They strolled through the busiest part of Central Park where a line of food trucks was parked. Megan tilted her head to look up at Wade as they stopped in front of one that served hotdogs. "You're not taking me to a fancy diner?"

He shrugged. "You always complain whenever I take you to one."

She snickered. "They're delicious but extremely unsatisfying. My stomach rated them 6 out of 10. It was that bad."

"Such a weird creature," Wade muttered under his breath.

She inched closer and planted a kiss on his jaw. "Grumpy ass," she teased, then pulled back to pay for their food.

There were a lot of people mingling around so they moved toward a secluded place once they received their hotdogs. They both ate in comfortable silence, savoring the meaty goodness. Megan watched the busy streets as she chewed.

Colorful lights blended as one with the New Yorkers who were hastily strolling from point A to point B. Music in various genres sang in her ears, along with the crowd's happy chatters. The air was cold; piles of snow covered the trees and awnings and the grounds that touched the soles of their shoes.

The street was bustling with energy.

A movement on her left caught her eye—Wade dropped his stick to the trashcan behind her. His warm breath tickled the back of her neck as the heat of his palms connected with her hips. Megan turned to him, her bright blue eyes finding his. She smiled and dropped hers to the can.

Fireworks erupted in the background. She put her hands on his shoulder, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath the fabric. He stared at her lips, his eyes filling with liquid need.

And as the crowd turned to watch the colorful display, he leaned down and captured her lips with his.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart."