Cold Feet, Soft Middle

Claire lay awake beside Adam, staring into the darkness. Beside her, Adam had already drifted off to sleep. A soft, steady snore escaped him every few seconds, exactly as it usually did after sex.

Once, Claire had found that adorable.

Tonight, she found it irritating.

Not because the sex had been bad. Quite the opposite. Adam was a good lover. A very good lover, in fact. He knew her body, knew what she liked, knew when to slow down and when to push a little harder. Claire had always taken some pride in knowing how to return the favour.

The problem wasn't the sex.

The problem was Adam.

Claire frowned, staring off into the darkness.

That thought was unfair. Adam hadn't done anything wrong. He was still the same kind, clever, dependable man he'd been yesterday. The same man she'd agreed to marry. The same man she'd loved.

So why did she suddenly wish he wasn't quite so damned fit?

The question had been bothering her all day. It had started at breakfast. Sunday mornings usually belonged to their routine. Breakfast together, coffee, then the gym. Nothing particularly exciting. Their workout that day was supposed to be primarily cardio, which normally wouldn't have bothered Claire at all. Except that she'd looked across the kitchen table at Adam and found herself wishing he would skip it.

Just this once.

Maybe he could take a day off. Maybe he could have a lazy Sunday morning, eat something unhealthy and put on a little weight. Not a lot. Just enough.

The thought had been so strange that Claire had nearly laughed at herself. Yet it hadn't gone away. While Adam happily discussed their workout plans, Claire had found herself studying his body. He was lean, muscular and obviously in excellent shape. His clothes fit him perfectly. There wasn't an ounce of unnecessary softness anywhere.

And suddenly, Claire wanted some. Something to hold onto. Something soft beneath her hands. Something that didn't look as though it belonged on the cover of a fitness magazine.

She had gone to the gym anyway. Of course she had. Claire was nothing if not committed to playing her part. She'd smiled. She'd laughed. She'd teased Adam about his terrible taste in music. She'd talked to him while they worked through their routine, acting exactly as she always had. Years of studying theatre had taught Claire how to remain in character.

The problem was that this particular role had started feeling like a lie.

The same thing had happened at lunch.

And dinner.

Claire had quietly chosen meals with more fat than she normally would have. Nothing ridiculous. Nothing that Adam would notice. If he insisted on exercising, then perhaps she could at least make sure he was eating enough to compensate.

Then, after dinner, she'd brought out the Oreo cheesecake.

Adam's favourite.

He'd already claimed he couldn't eat another bite. Claire had simply smiled and put a slice in front of him.

"Just one more."

He'd laughed.

"You know that's how you get me."

"I know."

He'd eaten it. Claire had watched him enjoy every bite and wondered whether, eventually, a little of that cheesecake might find its way onto his waist. It was a ridiculous thought. The perfect body. That was what Adam had.

The perfect body.

So why had Claire suddenly decided that the perfect body was the exact opposite of what she wanted?

She closed her eyes. Perhaps something was wrong with her. Maybe this was some strange psychological reaction to the wedding. Maybe getting closer to marriage had caused her subconscious to panic. There was still time to reconsider. The ceremony wasn't tomorrow. She hadn't signed away the rest of her life yet. Maybe her mind was simply forcing her to examine everything before making a permanent commitment.

That explanation made sense. At least, it was supposed to. Unfortunately, Claire's thoughts had already wandered somewhere else.

To her mother.

Elaine.

And Roy.

Claire had met Roy before, first on their hike to scatter her father's ashes, and again at dinner at her mother's house. She knew what he looked like. She knew how different he was from the men Claire had traditionally found attractive. Her father had been handsome. Fit. Lean. Strong. Adam was the same way.

And yet...

Roy.

Claire opened her eyes again. There was something about that man. He was shorter than Adam. His hair was beginning to recede. He carried extra weight around his middle. By every conventional measure, Roy was less physically impressive than the man sleeping beside her.

So why could Claire picture him so clearly?

Her imagination supplied the answer before she could stop it. That belly. That softness. The thought alone made something warm stir between her legs.

Claire swallowed and turned onto her back. This was ridiculous. She was lying beside her fiancé while thinking about her mother's boyfriend.

Her mother's boyfriend!

The phrase sounded absurd enough that Claire almost laughed.

Almost.

Instead, another memory surfaced. When she'd been making love to Adam, she'd had to let herself imagine someone else. She'd felt guilty about it. Of course she had. But without that fantasy, she'd struggled to maintain the same level of attraction. Adam had been beneath her, but in her imagination...

Roy.

Claire squeezed her eyes shut. This was becoming a problem.

Perhaps it really was cold feet. Maybe she was frightened of marriage. Maybe her subconscious had decided that Roy represented everything Adam wasn't, and that was all this meant. After all, Roy was different.

Older.

Softer.

Less polished.

More comfortable.

Although maybe Claire simply needed something different. That didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything. Could it?

Her mind wandered back to her mother. How had the woman who had raised Claire become so lucky? Claire knew her father had been a wonderful man. He had been loving, generous and devoted to his family. Claire had never doubted that.

But now, for the first time, she wondered whether Elaine had ever looked at him and wished for something different. Maybe attraction wasn't as simple as Claire had once believed. Maybe love wasn't either.

Adam shifted in his sleep. Claire turned her head and looked at him.

There was the man she'd agreed to marry. A good man. A wonderful man. The man she'd expected to spend the rest of her life with.

Claire reached over and gently brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. She loved him. That much hadn't changed. But something else had. And Claire couldn't decide whether she was frightened by that realization or fascinated by it.

She thought about the wedding.

The flowers.

The guests.

The rehearsal.

The vows.

The whole carefully constructed future they'd been building together. It all suddenly felt like a stage set.

Beautiful.

Familiar.

Completely convincing from the audience. But Claire knew better than most people that a stage set could look like a real home without actually being one. She'd spent years teaching teenagers how to distinguish performance from truth. Now she was wondering whether she'd been performing for herself.

Claire sighed and rolled onto her side, facing Adam.

"You're a very good man," she whispered.

Adam continued sleeping. She smiled sadly.

"I really hope that's enough."

No answer came. Of course it didn't. Claire stared at him for another long moment before settling back against her pillow. Tomorrow, everything would probably feel normal again. She'd wake up. Adam would make coffee. They'd talk about work. They'd make plans. The strange thoughts would disappear, and Claire would laugh at herself for ever having them.

She'd stop thinking about Roy. She'd stop noticing men's bodies differently. She'd stop wondering why soft older men suddenly seemed so appealing. Everything would go back to normal.

It had to.

Claire closed her eyes.

Tomorrow, she'd wake up and everything would make sense.

At least, that was what she hoped.