“Do you know if Afsoon got away?”
“She did not. Nor did her soldier friend. They’re both dead. From what I’m told it’s believed that they killed me in their attempt to get away. I don’t know how accurate that source is, though. A contact that we have over there made a trip to the village ostensibly to help rebuild after the fire, but really to see what he could find out, and that’s what he got from a kid in the village.”
“Wow. That’s horrible.”
Truly, truly horrible.
So much worse than a husband who slept with someone to save his life.
Worse, even, than finding the love you thought you’d shared, a one-of-a-kind, preordained, protected-by-powers-greater-than-self kind of love, had been nothing but a figment of her imagination.
“I saw that you called,” she said as the conversation lagged between them—something that, until Winston’s return, had never happened before. “Did you have something you needed to discuss?”
Had he already met with his lawyer? she translated silently.
“Just checking in,” he said.
She understood that. Appreciated it. Wasn’t at all sure what to do with him now that she knew he hadn’t been chosen specifically for her.
Because if he had, by her understanding, he wouldn’t have been put in the untenable position of having to sleep with someone else to stay alive.
“Okay, I’m doing well, so how are you doing?”
“Fine. I’ve sent up a request for naval police training. It’s a nine-week stint in San Antonio. And then I’ll get my orders.”
Even after he’d finished basic and received orders for San Diego, they’d always known he’d most likely be transferred at some point. She just hadn’t really given the idea much credence.
They were “them.” They’d both grown up in Marie Cove. Loved it there. When his orders had come through to ship out from San Diego, she’d almost taken them as an inevitability. She’d expected them.
So young. And naive.
And now...
“You could be sent anywhere.”
“I know.”
And if he got the divorce he wanted? Where did that leave Tristan in terms of knowing his father? And where did it leave her, living, perhaps, across the world from her best friend for the rest of her life?
She needed to ask. Wasn’t ready for the answer yet.
But there was one thing she had to know. Based on the man she’d gotten to know over the past months. This new Winston—or the one he’d always been and she just hadn’t seen—always had a goal in mind. Worked toward the goal.
“What is your goal where you and I are concerned?” she asked him. And then quickly clarified, “Not legally, but in terms of us? How do you see us working out?”
The question was clear in her mind. Coming out, it sounded pretty stupid.
“As friends, Em. Good friends. Always. Our history alone shapes that, doesn’t it?”
His answer spoke straight to her heart.
And made her sad, too.
Chapter Nineteen
On Friday, Winston was turned down for master-at-arms “A” school in San Antonio. He was invited to reapply when his six-month leave was up and he had all the necessary return-to-active-duty signatures.
And the following Monday morning, he received word that he was being offered an early honorable discharge at the convenience of the government, in spite of the fact that he had a full year left on his commission.
Could be in light of his sacrifice. Or perhaps because he’d gone rogue. That wasn’t made clear, and Winston didn’t ask.
He wasn’t required to take the offer.
The commander who met with him suggested that he talk the decision over with his wife.
While he actually wanted to hear what Emily thought, he knew it wasn’t fair to treat her like a wife when they were going to be divorcing.
After the divorce, once they were settled into a routine, then he could talk to her about that kind of stuff again.
He went to Adamson instead. He had the appointment. Now he had a reason to go it.
“I’m assuming you had something to do with my being turned down for ‘A’ school?” he asked as he was taking his usual seat in a corner of the old blue couch.
“No.” The infuriating woman folded her hands on her desk and looked at him, calm as ever. “I wasn’t consulted,” she said.
So it had just been because he was still on leave, not because his therapist had derailed him. For once she’d said something that actually pleased him.
In his good mood, he told her that he’d come clean with Emily. That they’d separated and would be getting a divorce.
And then he talked about “A” school again. He needed a good plan for the rest of his life.
“What about your child?” she asked him.
“Emily and I have already discussed all that,” he told her. “I’m taking full responsibility, of course.”
“I just meant...being a father is a good life plan...”
Frustrated again, he sat forward, elbows on his knees, ready to push off.
“Fathers have to have careers to pay support,” he reminded her.
“I’m just thinking...with you and Emily splitting, and then you being in the navy, with the possibility of being transferred anywhere in the world...you might not get a chance to know your son all that well...”
He was fairly certain he’d already made clear to her that he was only a biological parent in this situation.
Although, as he sat there, all of the reasons why that had to be didn’t come immediately to mind. Or didn’t ring as strongly true when he did manage to call them up.
So he didn’t believe that love was true. Or that “love of my life” was meant to be taken literally. He didn’t believe in Santa Claus, or some great power that watched over them all. He still had a lot of things he could teach the boy. Loyalty, for one. And duty.
How was he going to protect him if he was halfway around the world?
Emily could give the child all of the love Tristan needed.
But Winston still had valid things to offer.
“I got a notice this morning that you’ve received an offer for early discharge,” Adamson said as Winston sat silently contemplating—defensively guarding his thoughts from the woman who’d been trying to make him something he was not from the very beginning.
He’d actually meant to talk to her about the discharge. Since he wasn’t talking to Em about it.
“I was planning to re-up when my year is through,” he said now. Military life fit him. It spoke to all of his strengths.
“You want to be military police.”
“I think I’d be good at it. And enjoy the work.”
“So...have you considered civilian law enforcement? You’ve got the weapons training. If you want to stay with the navy, there’s always NCIS. You could request the Los Angeles office and with your record and history, I’m pretty sure you’d be given serious consideration for any special agent openings they might have.”
He hadn’t seriously considered anything but “A” school. He’d needed a goal to set his mind on, and that had been it.
Was still it.
The navy was his only constant.
“Have you talked any of this over with Emily? I’m assuming, since you said you’d moved out, that she’s agreed to the divorce?”
“She knows that what we thought we had doesn’t exist.”
“But again, have you asked her what she wants? Or just determined what you can’t give her?”
“I have my goals,” he told her.
“Career goals, yes, but there are other aspects to life. Equally, if not more important, aspects.”
Not for him there weren’t.
He wasn’t getting sucked i
nto happily-ever-after again. Turned out, he wasn’t good at it.
“My career is my goal,” he restated, because he had to set the woman straight. “No matter what I do...whether it’s walking dogs, being a cop or fighting wars, I am always going to be the man who, if faced with danger, will act. I will risk my life to save others. That’s what I have to offer. Not a promise that I’ll come home. Or even put home first.”
“You had a crisis in the desert, Soldier.” Adamson’s tone was stern, firmer than he’d known her to be, her gaze as direct as any commander under which he’d ever served. “You were forced to turn your back on what mattered most to you personally—your love for your wife—in order to serve your country.”
He bristled. Did not need her telling him what he already knew.
“My wife doesn’t come first.”
“Yes, she does. For you personally, yes, she does. And that’s the entire basis of the crisis you’re in and have been in since you made your choice in that desert.”
He wasn’t in crisis. He was in reality.
“You want to know what I think?” she continued.
“Not really.”
“I think that changing identities with Danny like you did—a young man with no wife, no Emily, no soul mate—was what allowed you to do what had to be done. Somehow, in some place in your psyche, you became Danny. Because it’s what you had to do to survive. To help others survive. You’re one of the strongest men I’ve ever known, Winston, and I’m not speaking about physical strength here. You’ve got a mind that’s as strong as you are. The things you did, your ability to get out with your sanity intact... I’d go to battle with you anytime.”
What the hell? Sitting still, about as uncomfortable as he’d ever been in a professional situation, he stared at her. Was she building him up for some big piece of bad news?
“It’s time to let Danny go.”
* * *
Emily was staring at her belly in the mirror Saturday morning, one day short of two weeks since she’d seen Winston. She was really starting to show. Not enough to require new clothes, but enough that she couldn’t wear her tightest outfits anymore. Or button the top of her jeans. Hard to believe the change was suddenly happening.
Running her hand over her belly, she tried to imagine what Tristan was going to look like. Couldn’t wait to meet him. She might not be the happiest wife in the world, but she was most definitely one of the happiest mamas. In spite of everything, maybe even because of everything, she wanted her baby more than anything.
Her mom called, wanting to come up to go baby shopping, and she put her off. No one knew Winston had moved out yet and she wasn’t ready to tell them.
He’d been calling pretty much every day. Just to check in. The calls were short. Mostly impersonal, if daily calls could be considered that. One of these days the call was going to include talk of lawyers. Settlements.
Every time he hung up without mentioning any of that, she was thankful—and then angry with herself for being thankful. It had to come. She wasn’t stupid enough to think otherwise. Wasn’t even sure she’d want otherwise.
Their life had been based on childhood farce. At least on her part—she couldn’t speak for him. They didn’t talk of such intimate things.
But maybe they should.
Picking up the phone she’d just set on the counter after her mother’s call, she dialed Winston. Asked him if he had time to get together that day. Any place of his choice.
And so two hours later found her pulling into a parking spot by the Navy Pier in downtown San Diego. He’d suggested lunch at the pier—Top of the Market. More linen tablecloths. Excellent seafood. And views of the bay. Way too nice a place for the conversation she’d envisioned, so she ate too much, talked about the view and assured him she felt perfectly normal and fine. It was good just to see him. If he noticed her thickening stomach in the leggings and long gray T-shirt she’d worn with flip-flops, he didn’t say.
But then, she didn’t say anything about the black jeans and white button-down shirt he had on, and she definitely noticed them. It had been a long time since she’d seen Winston’s backside in black jeans. A long, long time. Understandable that she’d have the urge to walk slightly behind him to prolong the pleasure.
Even knowing they were divorcing, that she’d never have sex with him again, that sight turned her on. Of course, she’d never made a point of allowing her gaze to settle on another man’s ass. Might be that any of them would do the trick. Like a guy looking at breasts.
To test the theory, she checked out several butts on their way out of the restaurant and then as they walked along the pier.
Nothing really struck her.
It could be that there just weren’t a lot of great butts walking around that Saturday afternoon. Or any other black jeans.
“I need to ask you something,” she said as they walked toward the docks.
Winston pointed to a white bench set off in the grass, under a tree. “You want to sit?”
“Why don’t we walk down and look at some of the boats?” she suggested instead.
“I think we should sit. I need to speak with you, too.”
She shouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t have pushed this. He’d hired an attorney, she just knew it. And she wasn’t ready. But she went with him to the bench, facing the ocean, its back to the tourists mingling around. A place for quiet meditation in the midst of activity.
“So, what’s up?” he asked, sitting far enough away that they weren’t touching, but close enough that she could count his eyelashes when he turned to look at her.
“No,” she said. “You first.” Divorce details were far more important than past feelings.
“I wanted to ask your opinion on something,” he said, as though he was unsure of his reception. Another first for them.
“Of course.”
“I’ve been given the option to take an early honorable discharge,” he said, looking out to sea as he explained the details.
A discharge? But Winston was career navy. It’s all he’d ever talked about wanting. Going to college and entering the navy. To have them coming to him with talk of discharge, after he’d been so loyal...
She couldn’t believe they’d do that to him. There had to be someone she could talk to. As his wife, shouldn’t she have some...
What?
Like the government was going to listen to her? And what would she tell them? That she was divorcing him but that they should definitely keep him on?
“Do you have to take it?” she asked when her thoughts cleared a bit.
“No.”
Okay, then. So it was an offer, he’d turn it down, and life would go on as usual.
She looked at him. “Why are you talking to me about it?”
“I’ve been thinking about the child.”
He was confusing her. She didn’t like it. Not when her view of life was still so new and tenuous.
“What about him?”
“He needs to learn about loyalty. Duty. Protecting others.”
Her breath came in short little drags of sea air. She had no words.
“There are many things I can’t give him,” Winston continued, his face stoic as he looked out at the unending waters he’d always said he loved. “But I can teach him those things. They’re my strengths.” He turned to look at her as he finished, as though he was waiting for an answer.
But...was there a question in there? What did he want her to say?
In their old life, she’d have known what he needed, almost as though she could think through him. In the olden days she’d have asked what he thought he couldn’t give, because she’d have firmly believed that there was nothing their child would need that he couldn’t provide. And conversely, if he couldn’t provide it, their child wouldn’t need it.
The olden days were gone. She thought abo
ut what the man sitting beside her had just told her.
“Are you thinking about leaving the navy because of Tristan?” she asked, not quite sure what to make of that. On any level.
“I want to know what you think about the possibility of me going with NCIS. Or even local police.”
“Not local police,” she said instantly. Winston knew and loved ships. Every single twist and turn in every single belly of them.
“NCIS has an office in LA. I’d have to be gone for a few months of training, in Georgia, but I could put in a request to work out of the LA office, and I’ve been told that I stand a good chance of having my request granted.”
He wanted to stick around to be an active participant in their son’s life! That’s what he was telling her! How could she possibly, in that moment, focus on anything else?
A miracle was happening in the midst of everything else falling apart.
He was waiting for her to say something. Something pertinent, preferably.
“Would it be anything like the television show where you’d still be working on ships occasionally? In an investigative capacity?” Winston loved the ships.
“Yes. But truthfully, Em, I’m more into the whole law enforcement/protection part of things now than I am the sailing. I loved it while I did it, but after Afghanistan, I want to use my skills differently.”
“Then by all means, go for it!”
He looked at her. “You really mean that?”
Holding his gaze, she nodded. “I do.”
He wanted to be close to his son. She just couldn’t believe it. And yet...in the midst of all the turmoil something settled deep inside her.
Chapter Twenty
So, hell. Maybe Adamson had been right about talking to Em about his career future. His choices still affected her because of the child if nothing else, even though they were no longer together.
It was good to see her, too. To know that she was taking care of herself. He couldn’t tell if her stomach had grown any—she was wearing uncharacteristically loose clothing. But based on that, he had an idea that she was going to be a particularly sexy pregnant woman. She looked as fine in loose clothes and flip-flops as she did in tight skirts and heels.
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