I just finished reading Home for the Holidays by Sarah Mayberry. (I’m on a Harlequin SuperRomance kick, having just recently realized how many good ones there are, so I declared December to be #SuperMonth.) Nice, warm story — nothing especially memorable, but I was struck by one aspect.
It’s one of those romance when the hero and heroine start out pissed off at each other and stay that way for awhile. After they finally kiss, Hannah thinks this:
Even with Lucas she’d never gotten so hot and heavy so quickly. With him sex had always been more fun and playful than hot and fiery. Lucas had never rubbed her the wrong way as Joe did, either. But maybe that was part of it. Maybe the rub was part of the tension, part of the heat.
Shortly after this, she has a conversation with Lucas, her former fiance, who dumped her for her sister.
“Did you ever love me?” She wasn’t going to go home and cry over the answer, but she’d always wanted to know.
“Yes. I still do. But it’s different with Kelly. I can’t explain it. It’s just… right. With you, it was like we were best friends and you happened to be a woman. It was comfortable. I’m never comfortable with Kelly.”
I find this so… odd, that he finds it “just right” to never be comfortable with his lover. I understand wanting to write some tension between the characters into a romance; you can get away with none if you’re Carla Kelly writing a Christmas story, but generally it’s necessary.
But in real life, I knew my husband was right for me because I was so comfortable with him. I could be with him constantly without getting worn out. I could sleep with him without feeling suffocated. (And we’re talking two big people on one single dorm bed here. 😉 ) I asked him about his memories and it was the same for him.
We’re both the kind of people who feel attraction based less on obvious physical characteristics and more on sense of humor, personality, and so on. So maybe it works differently for us than most people. But I happen to love being married to my best friend.