One Christmas Wish by Sara Richardson

she’d agonized over what to write on the back of that picture. It’d taken her a week to think it through. That was two weeks before the accident.
    “So she might’ve fallen in love with me in college,” Isaac said quietly, taking the picture back and replacing it in his wallet. “But I’ve always loved her. Always.”
    “That’s so beautiful,” Cecilia murmured, sounding as awed as Julia felt. “Tell us more about your service, love. Where were you stationed?”
    While Isaac told them about his naval service in the Middle East, Julia stared blankly at her food. Maybe the combination of narcotics in his system had intensified his emotions. Because there was no way Isaac loved her. He couldn’t. He would’ve come back to her. Years ago. He would’ve found her.
    “Wow, what a meal.” Isaac pushed away his plate. “I hate to be a buzz kill, but I’m tuckered. I think I might have to call it a night.”
    He did looked tired. Wrecked. A side effect of the medication, most likely.
    “Of course!” Cecilia popped up. “You two should get back to the cabin and enjoy some time alone.”
    Julia leaned her back against the chair, wishing she could chain herself to it. “Oh, but I’d love to hear more about Oliver’s parents.” Yes, she was trying to stall. How was she supposed to go back and be alone with Isaac all night after what she’d just learned?
    “We’ll talk more at breakfast,” Cecilia assured her as she started to stack dishes.
    “Wait.” Julia gathered the silverware, clanging it together in her shaky hands. “If you have a stool, I can do the dishes.”
    “Nonsense.” The woman confiscated the silverware and shooed her. “You go back to that cabin with your husband, Julia. Don’t worry about anything except spending some quality time together.”
    Quality time. That was a lot more dangerous than Cecilia made it sound.
    *  *  *
    Didn’t think he’d be doin’ this anytime soon. Isaac carried Julia across the threshold and into their love nest. The sneezing and wheezing had gone away, but now his head ached like it used to when he’d blow off steam at the bar while he was on leave.
    Carefully, he set Julia in her chair next to the bed, then slumped onto the couch a few feet away, kneading his forehead, trying to feel normal.
    He’d said too much. Damn Benadryl. It was like truth serum. Now Julia wouldn’t even look at him. She hadn’t said two words to him, either, since he’d revealed that picture in his wallet. Damn, he really had a low tolerance these days. He’d known exactly what he was saying, but he didn’t care. He was tired of pretending to be married to her and yet also having to pretend he wasn’t attracted to her when they were alone. The whole thing took way too much effort.
    An awkward silence made the room feel even smaller. It seemed Julia wasn’t going to break it, so he had to. “Sorry about dinner.” He’d meant every word he said, but Julia obviously didn’t want to hear any of it. “I haven’t had much to drink since I came home. I should’ve stopped with the Benadryl.”
    Her expression was guarded, but at least she looked at him. “Why haven’t you had much to drink?”
    Not that he wanted to broadcast it, but… “I’ve been dealing with some stuff. Depression, mostly. Doc says alcohol can complicate things.”
    She wheeled herself close enough that he got a clear look into her eyes. They looked sad. “Did you see terrible things over there?”
    “Not as bad as other guys.” Compared to the Marines, he’d had it easy. Only lost three members of his team in a decade. Which wasn’t so bad, all things considered.
    “But it was still horrible?” she rasped.
    “You can’t go into a war zone without seeing horrible things.” Haunting things. They replayed in his dreams, mostly. Since he wouldn’t let himself think about them during the day.
    Shadows from the fire flickered across Julia’s face. “Is it hard to be back,