Wanted: Wife 4 Navy Seals: A Military romance

by Dee Palmer

  “Daniel, darling.” My sister interrupts. “You must know I did this for my protection, being in my position, and Bethany, well, being in hers, I had to know who she was before I could let her into my life. I had no idea what I would uncover.” She dabs her eyes and stifles a sob.

  I am still confused as I look at the next picture. Marco and I going through his front door. The next sequence of photographs I can only slightly focus on, because my tears have built and are heavy in my eyes, causing a dream-like distortion. Marco and I are in his living room, and the next one shows a heated embrace, the next in a state of undress, the next in his bedroom, my naked back held in his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist, his hands gripping my bottom. The last one he has me pinned against the wall, and my head buried in his neck, and him buried deep in me. Only in the first picture you could see my face because only in the first picture it is me, but I know what this is supposed to be, and Kit did say she had something that would facilitate the break-up. I am desolate, and I look at Daniel’s eyes, and briefly I see that he is, too, but it is quickly replaced with steely anger.

  “Did you ever love me, Bethany?” His voice holds nothing.

  “Oh, God!” I double up as all the air escapes me, and I stumble, dropping the photos on the floor. “Do you believe…” I can’t finish my sentence, it hurts too much to think what he now believes to be true, that I’m a liar and a cheat.

  “I believe what I see, Bethany.” His mask is a fixed, impenetrable stone.

  Kit stands to offer her hand in comfort, and he takes it. I feel dizzy and flushed, and I will faint if I don’t leave right now. I turn to leave, but Daniel steps to block my way. He bends to pick up the photo, the one in the bedroom with my naked back.

  “Please… do keep this one, Bethany, it’s my particular favourite.” I shiver at the hatred dripping from his words, but still my body feels conditioned to obey him, and I reach for the photo. I take it and walk away. As I reach his front door, I hear Kit’s closing statement. “I’m so sorry, Daniel, you don’t deserve this…I’ll stay as long as you need me to.” I run the last few steps to the lift and fall inside. I press the ground-floor button manically and try to stop myself from throwing up in the lift with deep breaths through my nose. I can’t see for the haze of tears falling. The pain in my chest is like a saw, slowly inching its way around the soft tissue of my heart, until it falls unaided from the bleeding open cavity that is my chest. The lift reaches the ground floor, and I am grateful there is no one waiting to get in, because I am not going to make it outside. I dash to Eric’s desk and swing my head around the corner to the waste bin, where I dry heave and deposit any remaining liquid from my stomach. I’m so embarrassed. I’m fucked-up, brokenhearted, and embarrassed.

  “Oh, God, Eric, I’m so sorry.” My vomiting has momentarily stopped my crying. I am relieved that my body is clearly unable to control that many excretions at the same time. “Eric, let me clean that up. Where are the toilets? I’m so sorry and so embarrassed.”

  “Ms. Thorne, it’s fine. Don’t worry. I’ll fix it. Now, are you all right? You do look upset.” His concern is only going to fuel the tears once more.

  “I’m fine. I just witnessed something rather tragic, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”

  “Oh, what was it? Was it on the discovery channel?”

  “No.” I shake my head as I try and think of the words that would aptly describe the last twenty minutes of my life. “It was a train wreck.” I go to lift the bin and take it to the caretaker’s room, which must be here somewhere, when there is a buzz indicating the entrance phone of the penthouse.

  “Eric, Escort Miss Thorne from the building immediately!” He disconnects. I can add humiliated onto that previous list. I just want to go home. I smile tightly, and Eric looks embarrassed now.

  “I’ll go, Eric. I’m really sorry for everything.” I feel like that is the understatement of the year. Daniel’s driver is waiting, and he goes to open the door, but I shake my head.

  “Really, Ms. Thorne, Mr. Stone was quite insistent I drive you.”

  “Maybe on the way here, Peter, certainly not on the way back, but thank you. Take care of yourself and--” I swallow my tears “--take care of Mr. Stone.” I walk home in a numb trance, still gripping the photo, which damns me.

  The restaurant is closed, but a few of the kitchen porters and Joe are still doing the final clean down. I don’t want to be on my own right now, so I go into the kitchen and pick up a cloth and start polishing the silverware. “Hey, girl, you don’t need to be doing that.” Joe’s heavy arm thumps down on my shoulders and gives me a little shake.

  “Actually, Joe,” I can’t help the deep sigh that escapes my lips, “this is exactly what I need to be doing right now.” I continue to mindlessly rub the knives, removing any traces of water marks and making them shine.

  “Let me make you something, you are looking really pale, girl.” He doesn’t hide his concern in his voice.

  “I can’t tonight, Joe.” I’m struggling with the sadness that’s welling deep but rising fast and I plead, “Please.”

  “All right girl, whatever you say.” He turns his back and carries on putting ingredients away. It’s after midnight, and I must still be running on adrenaline and pain to still be awake after the last twenty-four hours. I lock the door after Joe crushes me in a bear hug and says goodnight.

  I enter my bedroom and see the stack of deliveries of expensive beautiful lingerie, which have continued to arrive daily. They make an impressive tower in the corner of my room. My mind flashes to eBay. I couldn’t wear anything he bought me without having him with me, inside me, and I need to stop thinking about him. I crawl into bed. It’s too late to call Sofia, but I want her to know she doesn’t have to worry anymore, and selfishly, I want her to forgive me. I send her a text that she will pick up first thing.

  HEY YOU, ALL SORTED NO MORE WORRIES. I’M SO SORRY SOFS PLEASE FORGIVE ME. XB

  My phone rings moments later.

  “Hey sister.” I greet her with our usual greeting. I just hope we can be normal again. “I didn’t want to call you so late, but I wanted you to know you’re safe, and Paul’s safe.” I’m silent while this sinks in but I need her so much I have to ask, “Can you ever forgive me, Sofs? I’m so sorry…I…” I am sobbing quietly. I am desolate.

  “Shhh, sweetheart, shhh, there’s nothing to forgive. I didn’t actually believe the crazy bitch, so I’m just as much to blame for not taking her threat seriously.” I can hear her own regret.

  “But none of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me. I think maybe I should move away, just to make sure, you know.” This came to me tonight while I was polishing, that they would all be safer if I wasn’t around, if I moved to another city.

  “Oh, there you go, flight instinct kicked in quick this time, No! I am not losing you. She’s got what she wants, that will be it. Won’t it?” I can hear the uncertainty in her voice, so I try to reassure her.

  “Yes, that will be it. Really, she was very clear. She just wants Daniel, and now she’s created enough of a reason to disown me, she won’t rear her ugly head again. I know he was keen on a big family reunion, but I don’t think that’s the case, anymore.” My feeble laugh falls flat. “So other than my last lecture with him next week, I won’t be seeing either of them again.” I am saying this to reassure her, but I think it’s the truth.

  “Back to normal, then, eh?” She sounds relieved.

  “Yes, normal.” I’m not touching that one. I am a long way from normal.

  “What happened? Why would she disown you now?”

  “You know, it’s not important.” I try to sound disinterested.

  “Bets, I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry you had to choose; it’s fucked up. This whole thing is fucked up.” She is sounding more like Sofia the angrier she gets.

  “It was never a choice, Sofs. He’s been in my life five minutes; you guys… you are my life.” My chest hurts, and I press my fists hard ag
ainst it to relieve the pain.

  “But it only takes a minute though, doesn’t it?” Her voice is soft.

  “Yes,” I sniff back a few stray tears that are tickling my nose, “it only takes a minute, but it doesn’t change a thing.”

  IT’S BEEN ONE week, one tortuous week. I haven’t heard from Daniel, and a sad reflection of my current state of esteem, means I am not surprised at this. My brave face is more a passive neutral mask, but luckily the only people who would probe to see beneath it are either at the hospital, or in Marco’s case, have taken some time off to visit some old school friends who are working a ski season in the Alps. I had one text from Kit the day after, which said:

  YOU’RE WELCOME XXK

  But I have heard nothing else. At least her apathy toward me means I am not going to get petty updates or gloating.

  I picked my shifts back up at the restaurant, and I have reverted to my pre-Daniel timetable. I have spoken to Sofia every night this week, and I know Paul is much better. He is being discharged tomorrow. Marco flew in early this morning and may come over with Sofia later. I’m feeling a little apprehensive, as the last time we were together like this seems a lifetime ago and not just in the sense of time, but in what has changed, too. I open a large bag of chocolate buttons and pour them in a communal bowl on my coffee table, grab a couple of glasses, and start to open the wine. I hear the back door open and the sound of Marco and Sofia laughing as they climb the stairs. I instantly relax, maybe we’re not so changed. They burst through my door.

  “Hey, Boo!” Marco rushes and squeezes me tight, lifting my feet clean off the floor, and I yelp as the wine bottle almost slips from my hands - almost. He plants an aggressively affectionate kiss on my cheek and slumps onto my sofa. Sofia’s embrace is a little more sedate but just as loving. I put the wine on the table and go to fetch another glass.

  “What is this you’re listening to?” Sofia’s tone is accusatory, and she raises her judging brow. “No, wait, I think I have this album. Is it volume one or two of ‘Music to hang yourself by’?”

  “Ha, ha, you are so funny. It’s just a playlist, with a slightly morbid bias, I admit, but it just fits my mood of late, and I find it strangely comforting,” I defend.

  “Well, wallowing is definitely better than running,” she quips, but her tone is almost a warning.

  “Who’s running? Why would you be running? This isn’t about Daniel the Dick, now, is it?” Marco pours his wine and grabs a handful of chocolate.

  “I’m not running-” I’m interrupted.

  “Damn right, you’re not!” Marco and Sofia chorus with the exact intonation, it’s spooky.

  “I’m not running. I might be wallowing… a little. And he’s not a dick, well, he might be for believing her shit, but I can’t really blame him.” I walk over to my desk and pull the crumpled photo from the drawer and throw it on the table next to the wine. Marco sits instantly and shoots his mouthful of wine all down his front, hitting the table and the bowl of chocolate.

  “Oh, gross, Marco, I was going to eat those,” Sofia reprimands her brother, because she hasn’t yet noticed what caused his reaction. He wipes his mouth and the droplets from his shirt and jeans before he leans to pick up the photo.

  “Bets?” He looks shocked and confused.

  “What the fuck!” Sofia grabs the photo from Marco’s hand and studies the image. Marco is looking at me and then back to the photo.

  “Bets, what is that? No, wait, why do you have that… no, wait, just explain all of it.” They both look at me. Their eyes are identical, but Marco’s are confused, while Sofia’s are all concern.

  “It’s one of a set, but this one was Daniel’s favourite, and he wanted me to have it,” I say with exaggerated affection. I explain the sequence of the other photos, the train wreck that followed, and sit dejectedly in my armchair. Sofia squeezes next to me, it’s a tight fit and I laugh, because I don’t think she realized it would be this cozy. We are practically nose to nose.

  “You know that’s not you, right?” Marco’s ridiculous observation makes us both bark out with laughter.

  “Yes, I’m pretty sure I know that’s not me.” This tragedy has momentarily morphed into a comedy.

  “That’s Rose, but I don’t understand. She has a massive tattoo on her arse; I mean it’s massive. A massive rose tattoo.” He repeats dazed. “She’s the right build, and her hair kind of looks the same as yours, so, yeah, she looks a little like you.” He catches my eyes. I’m still chuckling. “And don’t get freaked, I’m not harbouring any latent desires for a round two, sorry, a round one with you, Bets. Rose is really into me, she’s fit and feisty in the sack.” He holds up the photo. “Exhibit A, I believe. But that doesn’t explain her disappearing tattoo?”

  “No, but Photoshop would.” Sofia adds.

  “He believed this?” Marco’s voice is sterner, and I can see his jaw start to grind.

  “He believed what he saw,” I sigh sadly, remembering his exact words.

  “He’s a fucking idiot, and she… she is a fucking bitch.” He is openly angry now, and I tense. “Why the fuck are you letting her get away with this?” I feel Sofia tense beside me.

  “I have nothing, other than her birth certificate, which I doctored to get my place at Uni. I have nothing that proves she is anything other than what she pretends to be. She has completely, and successful, rewritten her life, and I now have the starring role of ‘villain’. She destroyed everything from her life before. I remember the bonfire in the garden, her fresh start. Everything went, photos, school reports, diaries, clothes. She left with the clothes on her back and a big fat cheque.” My voice has been slowly rising, so I take a calming breath. “I think she did me a favour with the photos. He was so quick to believe her. I think… no, I know he didn’t love me, not like…” I feel a rush of tears that I hold in my lids and a tingle in my nose. I let out small puffs of air to prevent my free fall, and Sofia puts her arm around my shoulders awkwardly, pulling my head into her neck. We are just too close for this to be comfortable, but I take comfort from the gesture. This is just bearable, believing Daniel didn’t love me, and it will mean that Marco won’t need to be fighting in my corner anytime soon.

  “Look, I have nothing to gain from trying to expose her. It might be different if …” I hesitate, it wouldn’t be different, because she is clinically insane, but if Marco knew about her threat, well, I physically shudder at that thought. “If he loved me.” It’s a perfectly plausible reason to let it go, and Marco seems appeased with my reasoning. Sofia doesn’t say anything, but she holds a well of sadness in her face. She still has this misguided romantic world view where she truly believed Daniel loved me, and for that she is a little heartbroken, but for her I will be made of stronger stuff. I kiss her cheek and whisper, “I’m happy with my ‘no-more,’ Sofs, and I want you to be, too.”

  “Yeah, you sound happy.” She nods toward my iPod speaker, and I laugh.

  “God, Bets, Sofia is right. I’m on a freaking high from an awesome holiday, and even I want to hang myself,” Marco moans.

  “All right, all right, I’ll change the tunes.” I lever myself from the armchair and pick up my iPod and start to scroll. “If you’re looking for upbeat I can offer you a whole play list of Disney Film soundtracks.”

  “What are you, seven?” Marco grabs my IPod and throws it on the sofa promptly replacing it with his, and it’s a mix of Killers, Arctic Monkeys, and Muse. Perfect. “So are you going to ask me about my trip, or is it all about you girls tonight?” He pouts and pours another glass.

  This is the last of Daniel’s lectures and I am again sitting high, toward the back of the theatre with Mike and Sam on either side of me. I am all nerves and excitement, which is really stupid. I haven’t been eating too well, either, but made sure I had at least consumed a granola bar and some juice. I won’t be fainting again, no matter what stunt he might pull. The room falls instantly silent as his powerful presence emanates across the room. My
body responds like the traitor it is, with a flush of prickles covering my skin and an increase in my heartbeat. I only brave fleeting glances toward the stage, but each time it is clear Daniel’s focus is on his notes and the screen. His lecture is brilliant, and there is only one moment when his eyes meet mine. The bright dark-blue eyes reflect no recognition, no acknowledgment of any prior intimacy, and I am consumed by an excruciating pain in my chest at his obvious indifference to me now.

  “Looks like you’re off the hook this week, Ms.” Mike nudges me and smiles.

  “It would appear so.” I offer quietly. I look at my empty page. I have taken no notes, despite the rich material offered and Sam looks at my page.

  “Not like you, nerd?” He nods to my page with the query across his brow.

  “Oh, don’t worry, it’s all in here.” I tap my temple and start to pack my bag. Everyone around me has started to shuffle and make their way to the exit, but I decide to sit until the room is clear, and then wait a bit longer. I can fool myself that he might not have seen me in the room full as it was, but an up close and personal encounter, I know I won’t fare so well. I have to wait a while for the room to clear as Daniel takes his time with the overly keen students vying for his attention. I rest my head in my arms and close my eyes, a huge mistake. I am awakened, I don’t know how much later, but there is definitely a little drool in the corner of my mouth, by the kind face of my course leader. He is gently shaking my shoulder as I re-orientate. I discretely wipe my mouth and smile. Wow, I am embarrassed.