Matched (Navy Seals of Little Creek Book 2)

by Paris Wynters

  “Thank you, I’d love some red right now.” I take a sip and let the full-bodied oak flavor overwhelm my tongue. Red wine has always made me feel seductive.

  “No problem.” She leans over to give me a side hug, which I return. Marge’s hugs are warm and soft and everything a mom’s hug should be. “It’s good to see you, Inara.”

  “It’s good to see you too. How is Leslie doing?”

  Marge shakes her phone back and forth at me in response. “She was giving the babysitter a bit of a heart attack by hiding under the bathroom sink. But it’s resolved. She knows all the good hiding spots now.”

  Taya and I laugh. Leslie is a handful, such a smart and sweet girl.

  “But we’re not here to talk about the hiding habits of my baby. How are you doing? How’s everything been, you know, since the picnic?” Marge always gets right to the point and I’m sure my emotions are plainly written on my face.

  “Things are rough. I’m guessing you heard Tony’s application to OCS was rejected and he’s out of the IPP program? And if that wasn’t enough, he made it pretty clear where he stood on the whole marriage thing.” I lift my wineglass and take a small sip. Taya reaches over and rubs my back. I want to hold my emotions in, but they just spill out. “He just said, ‘gotta go to training’ and left.” I look down at my own hands and play with the chipping polish on my pinky nail.

  “Well,” Taya begins, “I know he’s hurting, too, but that was a dick move.”

  “Yeah, but he was devastated about OCS, and I did hurt him. I’m to blame too.”

  “You really care about him,” Taya says. “I mean, it’s written all over your face, not just now, but every time you talk about him.”

  “Yeah, honey, even I gotta say it. You have a bad case for Tony. And I can’t deny it, you two were, or are, a good match. Truly.” Marge reaches over and puts her hand on mine. “We all mess up in any relationship, it’s a given. It’s how we make amends that determines the outcome.”

  “Well, even if I did love Tony, it’s clear he doesn’t love me back the same way. And now that we are out of the program, there’s nothing keeping us together.” I grab the cocktail menu on the table and browse the appetizers to take my mind off this fact. I do love Tony. And right now, he wants nothing to do with me.

  Marge pushes down the menu I’m attempting to hide behind. “It doesn’t seem like he doesn’t love you. And the matching program doesn’t matter anymore. This is about you and Tony. These things take time, you know?”

  “Yeah, I mean, look at what Jim and I went through.” Taya shoves a breadstick in her mouth and rolls her eyes.

  Part of the reason I signed up for the Issued Partner Program to begin with was because of those two. After the fiasco at their wedding, I’d pretty much given up on dating. Then one day while I was at Taya’s house, she was video chatting with Jim. At the beginning of the call, his eyes were droopy, and a deep frown marred his face. Then after five minutes of talking to his wife, he became all toothy grin and big dimples. It was adorable. So, I figured maybe science and the committee were the way to go. The proof was in front of me.

  But it wasn’t always that way for Jim and Taya. There was a lot of heartache there too.

  “I know things were rough for you guys to begin with.” I raise my voice so she can hear me over the sudden “I Want It That Way” flashback playing over the loudspeakers, with a tipsy woman on stage, swaying and belting out the song.

  Taya picks up another breadstick and starts breaking it into pieces. “Things were seriously rough. There were so many nights we wouldn’t talk, even as we lived under the same roof. The first months were hard, and for a minute, I thought it was over too. We had our own big fights, but then we started clicking. We got each other. Now look at us. It all takes time.”

  “And look, honey, don’t even get me started on all the fights Bear and I have had. The road we traveled to get to the marriage we have now was a bumpy one for sure. You gotta give it some time. And be kind to yourself. This is new. You guys jumped straight in. You might have had an idea what being with a SEAL was like, but it’s different once it starts.” Marge lifts her glass and doesn’t just take a sip of her wine, but a big damn gulp.

  Both of them were right. If things were going to get better, it was not going to happen overnight, but at this point, Tony doesn’t seem interesting in trying. I twist my glass in circles by the stem. “It’s just hard to know we left things how we did.”

  “Yeah, well, trust me, I’m sure there will be more moments like that. I mean, have you seen them? Aside from Bear”—Taya looks over at Marge—“they’re like a bunch of feral dogs. They’re easily jumpy and just as feisty.” At Taya’s comment, all three of us start busting up laughing, and we have to quiet ourselves down because the person now singing “Ironic” from Jagged Little Pill seems to think we are laughing at her.

  “Thanks, you two. This night is actually making me feel a lot better, like I’m finally out of my head. Hearing someone belt out nineties flashbacks is really refreshing,” I say just as someone gets on stage to sing Nickelback.

  Taya flings a small piece of breadstick at me. “Good. I’m happy you got out a bit. And when Tony comes back, maybe just try to talk to him. He’ll be fresh out of training, and some time away might have given him space to think.”

  I smirk in response and lift my wineglass to my lips. There’s only a small bit left but I swing the glass back and let the red coat my throat. “Well, at this point, by the time he gets home, he’s going to have to come looking for me. You know he has not texted, or called, or anything since the moment he walked out that door?”

  Marge and Taya look at each other with wide eyes.

  I set the glass down on the table a little too hard and huff. “He’s angry and I get it. But he’s been gone two weeks. And every day that passes makes the stabbing feeling in my chest worse.” I try not to think about how many times I check my phone each hour when I’m home alone. “You know I spent so much time avoiding turning into my mother, but maybe I should have embraced it.”

  “Don’t say that. You and she have very different lives to lead.” Marge pats my hand and leans in when she speaks.

  “I am tired of relationships. I am done with love.” As the words fall out of my mouth, my heart plummets into my stomach. I always thought of myself as someone who knows what she wants in a relationship. But lately I am beginning to have doubts. As much as I care about Tony, how can I be with someone who can so easily leave me and not look back? I have talked about my mother as someone who made all the wrong choices, but at least she avoided all the heartache coursing through me. She did not have to waste time trying to teach a man how to love her the way she wanted to be loved, or how to open up to her.

  “I understand, but don’t limit your future because you’re hurting right now.” Taya leans over and gives me a big hug.

  Her words ring true. Of course pain is influencing what I say and do. And I’m a bit tired of it. So, I jump off the stool. “Okay, look, I think we have had enough of this absolutely god-awful relationship talking. We came here to sing and I want to sing.”

  I rush over to where the list is and immediately find a song I want to sing—Marina and the Diamonds’ “How to Be a Heartbreaker.” I don’t know what things will look like when Tony gets back, but I don’t want to keep sitting around waiting for a love who isn’t sure if he wants me. Yes, I love Tony, but I deserve better than that. And if he can’t see it? Well, then there’s truly nothing I can do to salvage our marriage.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Tony

  Coronado, being so close to San Diego, has been amazing. I haven’t had carne asada fries in so long and they have the best ones. This is one of my first off days, and I’m heading toward my old stomping grounds, but instead of looking forward to some delicious food, my hands are clammy and my heart is racing.

  I’d spent most of last night running through my big blowup with Inara for the millionth time.
How had I let things get so far off track that I’d panicked and walked away? Had I made the biggest mistake of my life? The angry texts I kept getting from Taya and Marge, saying exactly that, didn’t help. So, when my dad texted during an especially dark moment, I caved and told him I was in town. Of course he asked if I’d meet him for a meal, and I agreed.

  And just like the time I signed up for the marriage-matching program, when the dust settled, I once again regret my actions. But it’s too late. Even I’m not a big enough of an asshole to cancel on my dad this late in the game. Although, Inara might disagree.

  I wince. It’s unbelievably pathetic, my inability to go more than fifteen minutes without thinking of her. When I spot my dad waiting for me outside his car in the Coronado Visitor Center parking lot, I’m almost happy for the distraction.

  He spots me and his eyes shrink to near nothing because of how wide his smile is. I don’t contain my grin either, as complicated as it is to see him. A warmth spreads over my chest. He has not changed one bit, except for maybe leaned out from all the Zumba, but his eyes are still his eyes and his smile is still his smile.

  “It’s been too long.” He pulls me in for a hug and I let myself fall into him, or onto him, given how much bigger I am.

  “It’s good to see you.” I give him three strong pats on the back causing short breaths to leave his lungs. I didn’t intend for them to be that hard.

  He steps back and looks me up and down. “You look different. Good, but different.”

  “Thank you.” My voice sounds so formal and I wish it wouldn’t. But I can’t shake the nervousness nor the anxiety I have pushed aside for a few years too many.

  “Why don’t we head over to Roberto’s?”

  I nod and step around him to get into the car. I haven’t had their surf-and-turf burrito in years, but the idea of going there makes me salivate. “Let’s go.”

  We cross the bridge, the city coming into view about forty minutes later, and I can’t help but feel nostalgic having my dad drive me somewhere. It’s both pleasant and painful, if that’s even possible. We drive over to the tiny taco shop with the mosaic-tile tables and gaudy umbrellas. We can only sit outside, but I don’t mind, even with the chill in the air. And the noise of the passing traffic drowns out other customers. We order our food and sit and wait for them to call out our names. This is an unrecognized gem in Oceanside, but the food is five-star.

  “How long has it been since you’ve been here?”

  I groan. “Too long.”

  There is a moment of silence between us before mi apá clears his throat. “So, I think it’s time we talked about the fundraiser.”

  I recoil, every muscle in my body going rigid. The fundraiser is an extra-loaded subject now, since it’s a big part of the reason Inara and I broke up. “Do we have to do this now?”

  He takes in a slow, deep breath while momentarily closing his eyes. “Yes, I think we do. Talk to me, mi hijo. Just tell me what you’re thinking.”

  Like it’s just that easy. Talking, and about this subject.

  He glances over at me. “Come on. Give it a try. Good or bad, tell me what you’re thinking.”

  I try one of those breathing things Inara always does. Count my inhales. Count my exhales. To my surprise, the vise gripping my throat loosens up a little and words start to pour out. “I want to help you. I want to be a part of it. But I don’t know if I can relive all of that. Talking about Mamá is hard enough. Putting on a fundraiser in her honor will bring it all back and make it all so much more . . . unfair.” I am staring at my hands to avoid looking my father in the eyes. I feel like a failure somehow, and I hate it.

  “I know, and it was unfair, it really was.” He exhales after a few seconds and continues. “But I want you to know, as much as I understand, I only push you because I think it will be good for you. Raising money, it has been a highlight for me. And it has helped me connect more with your mother.” He taps his chest over where his heart lies.

  I have not felt my mother, or her memories, in years. I clear my throat and meet my father’s gaze. “But doesn’t it hurt to carry that all, every day?”

  “Some days more than others, but mostly, it feels healing,” he says.

  The men at the counter call our names and we stand and walk over to pick up our burritos and chips. We bring them back to the table and start opening the tiny half-ounce containers of salsa.

  “It’s your decision, son, but one thing I know for sure. You can’t avoid the pain that life comes with.” He lets the words hang in the air a beat before he spares me from having to respond. “Now, tell me what I really want to know. How is Inara? How are you two?”

  Damn. I didn’t even think about this. I was so worried about one difficult conversation, I didn’t prepare for the other topic that was likely to come up—my fake wife-turned-lover-turned-not-wife.

  “Things aren’t good, Apá. Not at all. I wasn’t very honest with you about that relationship.” I pour green salsa all over my burrito and take a big bite before I continue. “What exactly did Inara tell you?”

  “Not much. Just that you kind of rushed into things,” he says. “Like you got married pretty quickly after meeting. From what she said, I’ve been imagining love at first sight.”

  I chew slowly and contemplate how much I want to tell him. As I swallow, then stuff a chip into my mouth to buy more time, I know I am tired of secrets and avoidance. I just want to be honest. “Well, the rushing into things is true enough. But we didn’t exactly fall in love spontaneously. We were assigned to each other. The military has a spouse-matching program they created.” His eyebrows furrow together at that, but I go on explaining. “Basically, it was like a blind date. We both took personality tests, had numerous interviews with a committee, and were eventually paired up.”

  His eyes open wider and he takes a bite of his burrito, just like I did to buy time. “Well, then, you two must be a good match.”

  “I thought we were, but our relationship is over. We got into a fight and I said some harsh things. The program director overheard. He cut me out of the program.” I take a few more bites and savor the shrimp and beef combining in my mouth.

  “That’s rough. And now you’re all the way out here.”

  Part of being away has been good. But the past few days, I find myself wishing I was home, trying to work through this with Inara. Coming to training, even if it’s required of me, was running away. My shoulders slump forward and I wince when once again, I relive the words I’d flung at her in the heat of the moment. Things that, even in the midst of my anger and pain, were grossly unfair. “Yeah, it was very sudden. But fight or not, it’s part of my life. They also rejected my Officer Candidate School application because of it all. Everything I have worked for, gone.”

  My dad sets his burrito down and reaches across the table to squeeze my shoulder. “I am so sorry that so much went wrong so fast. What happened, if you don’t mind an old man asking? What did you fight about?”

  I clear my throat and look down at my plate. “You, actually. The way she talked to you on the phone and helped organize the fundraiser, behind my back.”

  My dad’s eyebrows lift. “Really?”

  My neck heats up. I want to escape this terrible conversation, but we’re here now, and I’m trying to be honest about my feelings. Might as well see this through. “Yes, really. When she told me about your conversation, I don’t know, I just saw red.”

  My dad takes a sip of water, the knowing quirk of his lips that used to drive me nuts when I was younger setting in as he returns his glass to the table. “And why do you think that is?”

  I stifle a groan. “Because I was mad she’d pushed past my boundaries and tried to worm her way into my extended family against my wishes?”

  He reaches down to pick up his burrito. “Or maybe you were scared.”

  I scoff. “Scared? Why would I be scared?”

  Apá swallows a bite and pats his mouth with a napkin, before shrugging. �
�Maybe you’re worried to take a chance again? After your mamá died. You might have been away from home for some time, but I know you. I know your heart and your eyes.” He goes back to his burrito. “What I see in your eyes is love, mi hijo. And if you love her, you would want her to be part of your family. Unless you’re afraid of something. Like maybe, afraid that she won’t always be there.”

  I stare at my food, tearing bits of tortilla away with my fingers. That’s so stupid. He is right about one thing. I have been away for a long time. But he doesn’t know me. Not anymore.

  And yet, the gaping hole that took up residence in my chest after I moved away from my family has grown a thousand times larger since I left my home with Inara. There’s also all the times throughout a given day that I light up when I think of something funny to tell her, only to deflate that we’re no longer together. I miss everything about her, so much that it’s a physical pain. Her scent. The silky texture of her skin. The husky sound of her voice when she comes undone in my arms.

  Guess my dad is right about two things, because I do love Inara. Which means, maybe he’s right about the other part too. I bite into my cheek as I recall our fight and how earlier that day, I’d sought her out for reassurance and taken comfort in her smile, only to become uneasy immediately afterward. Was my underlying worry about growing dependent on Inara because I couldn’t rely on her to stick around, making me all the more vulnerable to falling apart if she left?

  Guess the joke is on me. Turns out, I pulled that switch way too late to save my world from imploding. “You’re right, I do love her. And I don’t know what to do. I’m thirty-five and this is practically the first real relationship I’ve been in. Not to mention how right it feels. That’s not scary, it’s downright terrifying.” I take a few gulps of my horchata since I’ve mangled my tortilla to the point it’s beyond repair.