by Lola StVil
“Yeah. You’re right,” I whisper as I sit back down, deflated. My shoulders drop, and my mind begins to wander.
“Hey, what is it?” Wyatt asks.
“It just occurred to me: she hasn’t asked me what I do for a living. That’s rare. I usually have to lie about being in the agency, but I haven’t had to lie to her because she doesn’t ask. Why do you think that is?”
“You’ve told me a lot about Shelby yet you haven’t really told me anything. I know her personality but no real facts. Where is she from? How long has she been married? Who is this guy she’s married to? And how serious is she about this divorce? Maybe she doesn’t ask questions because she doesn’t want you asking any in return…”
“Yeah, maybe,” I reply, lost in thought. Wyatt places a hand on my shoulder.
“Look, Gage, I can tell how much you care about this woman. First of all, I think I’ve talked to you more in the past hour than I have the last twenty years. You came into my house looking like a man who found a treasure and couldn’t believe he got to take it home. I want that for you, we all do. But find out what she’s all about. Gage, if you really feel that strongly about her, ask the questions you are afraid to ask.”
***
I’ve been seeing Gage for almost a month now, but this is the first time I’ve been to his townhouse. It’s gorgeous. The rich, dark reclaimed wood floors, cathedral ceilings, and open floor plan make the space feel rustic. The soft lighting and the fresh-cut marigolds add a sense of romance to the house. In the background is the sweet and soulful sound of Aretha Franklin. The music is very low, but her voice is hard to miss. The atmosphere is so inviting and warm, I feel right at home. The crisp scent of fall and spices tickle my nose. I love it here.
“This house is so beautiful.”
“Thank you,” he says, taking my hand.
He takes me over to the plush cognac-colored, tufted sofa, then he disappears into the kitchen. He returns with a bottle of wine and pours our drinks. I’m relaxed and having a great time as I sip the wine and talk about the exhibit we just saw. It was a photography exhibit about New York City in the 1920s.
“I’m sorry if you didn’t enjoy the art show. I promise next week we can do something sports related. This is football time, right?”
He laughs at me. “It’s not called ‘football time.’ It’s football season, and yes, it’s the season.”
“Well, whatever. We’ll do a ‘guy’ thing next week. Promise,” I reply as I put my glass down on the glass table. He places his glass down too.
“I actually had a good time at the art show. There are a few pieces I think would work well in this place.”
“I think so too; like the one with kids diving under the fire hydrant. I love the composition,” I reply.
“I agree. That would fit well with the photo where the lady is—”
“Waiting for the cab?”
“Yes.”
“Exactly! I think so too.” We exchange a smile. But his is short-lived. There’s worry in his eyes and doubt carved on his impossibly handsome face. I place my hand on either side of his face and kiss him. Damn, just as good as the first time. Every cell in my body longs for Gage. I can feel the flames between us growing out of control. But along with that carnal longing is the fear I’ve been trying to keep at bay when Gage is near.
He nibbles my earlobes and trails his lips down to my collarbone while his hand fondles my right breast through my blouse. The room spins. He reacts to an expression on my face; I’m not really sure what it is, but it worries him. He pulls back.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yes, why?”
“You look…I don’t know, like part of you is ready to run.”
My heart pounds faster in my chest. How could he see that flash of fear? It was there for only a few moments.
“It’s nothing, let’s get back to—” Before I can finish, he’s already put me back down on the sofa. The disappointment is sharp, but there is a part of me that is slightly relieved.
Yeah, I’m really screwed up.
Gage takes a moment to gather himself. Whatever he’s about to say weighs on him. Shit, he’s breaking up with me. I try to brace myself. I can handle this. I can, right?
Nope, we’re gonna fall apart.
I clear my throat and straighten my posture. Just because I’m getting dumped doesn’t mean I am allowed to slouch. I sit up as straight as a board. There. I may die alone in my apartment, but at least I will do so with good posture.
“Wonder, I have to tell you something…”
Shit. This is really going to hurt. Okay, I’m ready.
“Shelby, I—”
“I would love some water. Can I have some?”
“Yeah. Be right back,” he says. As he walks away, I try to steady myself. I remind myself that this is for the best and that we could never work anyway. He comes back with a bottle of water. I thank him and start to drink.
“Okay, what I wanted to say—”
I interrupt him again. “Do you have distilled water?”
“What? No—I don’t know. I’d have to check,” he replies, thrown.
“You’ve been a good host. Let me,” I reply as I head for the kitchen. He follows me. I look around the room. “Um…where do you keep—”
“Shelby! Forget the water; I’m trying to talk to you.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”
Hello, break up. Goodbye, what this was. Good. This was something good.
“Sorry, Gage, you were saying…”
“Shelby, I’m an agent; I work for the CIA.”
“Wait, what?”
“I don’t reveal what I do to people I date—if I dated at all. The only people who know are my family.”
“So why are you telling me?”
“Because I hope you will be in my life for a very long time. And I need you to know who I really am.”
“Are you…a spy or something?”
“I can’t go into details. In fact, I’m sure I’ve said more than I should. But I’m in love with you, and I don’t want to keep secrets from you.”
Whaaaat?
“Gage, you love me?”
“Yeah, I do. It’s fast—I know. But I also know me. I’m not a guy who has to find himself. I know who I am and what I want. My question is—what do you want?”
I look around the room, not sure what just happened. He takes my hand in his and makes me look him in the eye.
“Shelby, do you want us to be together?” I nod but can’t find the words.
“I’m glad, baby, because I don’t want to lose you.”
I smile and reach out to him, but he pulls back, just a little. “What is it?” I ask.
“I told you something that could very well end my career because I have faith that you are the one I’m meant to be with. But I need to know if you are really in this.”
“I am. I want us to work,” I swear.
“Good. Now, tell me what I don’t know about you.”
My heart leaps into my throat. It’s suddenly too hot and too cold all at once.
“Shelby…”
“I need time to process. You work for the CIA. That’s…wow.”
What the hell are the odds, given the fact that…?
“Yeah, I know. We can talk about my job later,” he says. “Right now, I need you to talk to me. Who were you before this? Why do you hate your husband? And why are you so afraid when things heat up between us?”
Suddenly, all I want to do is run. I know it’s a cowardly thing to do, but I can’t help it. The room has somehow started to shrink. It’s too small now.
“I have to go,” I reply as I grab my jacket and head for the door.
“Wonder, wait!” he shouts. I don’t stop. I run out the door and away from the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
It’s been three days, ten hours, and twenty-two minutes since I last heard from her or laid eyes on her. The night she ran away, I went over to her place to make
sure she was okay and to find out what was really going on. She didn’t open the door. She just texted me and said, “I need time.” I promised that I would respect her wishes, although it’s fucking killing me.
Did I push too hard? I didn’t know love required strategy. Am I supposed to plan my love life with the same forethought and tactical tools I use on the field? I can handle guns, blades, and pretty much anything that comes my way. But love…I’m not sure I know how to handle that.
Sometimes I think it would have been better if I hadn’t said anything. Maybe if I’d shut my mouth about being in love with her, she’d still be here. But I don’t work like that. If something is on my mind, I will let you know. I don’t play games, and I don’t dick around when I know what I want. And she’s what I want. I know that. But now the next step is on her. All I can do is be here for her when she decides she’s ready to talk.
What happens when you two talk and it turns out she doesn’t love you?
The thought that I could be in this alone makes my chest tighten with dread. I’d like to say that if we don’t work out, I’ll just move on, but the fact is, it will never be the same after Wonder. I can find someone else, that won’t be difficult. But finding someone who makes me feel the way she does when she enters a room—that’s fucking impossible. There’s no way to replicate that laugh or that wit. And where in the world am I going to find a woman with her heart?
Even if I did meet someone just like her, it wouldn’t be the same. It’s her I want. It’s her I need in my life and my bed. I think somewhere deep inside I knew very early on that I wanted her to be the last woman I dated. I want her to be my wife. I know that. And the more we are away from each other, the more I’m convinced that I want to be her husband.
Thank god I didn’t say it that night. She would have moved to the other side of the world.
It doesn’t make sense on paper—it’s only been a few weeks, but I have no doubt in my mind that she’s the one. She’s the only one. And me not saying it to her out loud doesn’t make it any less true.
Missing Shelby is one thing, but what’s worse is feeling like she needs me. There’s something seriously wrong. I recall the panic in her eyes; she was terrified of my words. Something went really wrong in her past, and I wish I knew what it was because it’s the only way we can get past it.
It’s four in the morning and sleep is far from me. I find myself wondering if she’s okay. Is she sleeping peacefully in her bed or is she having another nightmare? If she’s having a nightmare, who’s going to wake her from it and hold her close? Whatever haunts her makes her wake up shaking; who’s going to place a blanket over her and make sure she’s warm again? Who’s going to love her?
I get up and head to the gym. Maybe if I work my body enough, it will somehow get my mind to stop racing. I work out, harder than I should. I push myself, almost punishing my body for the situation I’m in. I need someone to be pissed off at, and I guess I’m starting with myself. When I’m done, I head to the pool and dive in. It’s good to be underwater and make the world go silent if only for a few minutes.
By the time I’m done at the gym and head out to my car, the sun is rising above New York City. It has these insanely beautiful colors—deep oranges and pale pinks. I would have missed it had it not been for her. She has this infectious joy when it comes to things around her; whether it’s shoes or a sunrise, she’ll find the beauty in it. She has me looking at everything differently. I pick up my cell and do the thing that I said I would not do—I call her. It goes straight to voicemail. I start to speak, not sure what I will actually say.
“Hi, babe. I know you want time apart and so I will make this short… I miss you. I miss you so much; I can barely stand it. And in the end, if you walk away from us, it won’t stop me from loving you from afar.
“When Rose died, she made a hole in me, one that I was sure would never be filled. But then I met you. And you made me a whole person again. There’s no way I can ever repay you for that.
“All I can do is make you this promise: no matter where you are or who you end up with, you will always have a guy who loves you and would do anything for you. Just remember that—you have me; all of me. Forever.”
***
It’s a few hours later when Lawson and I are sent on a mission to Washington, D.C. There’s a scientist and Chinese nationalist named Dr. Liu who wants to defect to the USA. He’s a skilled hydroelectric engineer, and he would be a valuable asset to us. The only chance we have to get him away from the Chinese is tonight at the unity gala taking place in Washington, D.C. Lawson and I plan the operation meticulously. Bot is in the office, but he’s monitoring everything on his screen. He has accessed the main control room where the gala is held and can control all their systems.
We have an agent who is posing as Dr. Liu’s interpreter. They will mingle; she will spill her drink on him, forcing them to retreat down the hallway, headed for the restroom. But they will take a wrong turn and end up in the supply closet where an agent will be waiting to change clothes with Dr. Liu, and we will then walk him out the back and into our awaiting van. Everything is going well until we spot a black car pulling up to the alley out back. Four men exit the car with guns drawn. They disappear inside.
“I think they made him,” I inform Lawson.
“We have to warn them to abort,” he says.
“No, we’ll never get this chance again.” I hop out of the car and follow the guards in the back way. Lawson comes up behind me, and together we quietly disable the four guards and manage to get the doctor out just in time. We barrel through the streets and ride hard past the red lights until we get to our contact. We hand Dr. Liu over, and soon we’re on a private plane headed back to New York City.
“Why didn’t you take care of that?” Lawson asks as he signals towards my shoulder. I follow his gaze, and I’ve been shot in the shoulder. It’s not bad, just a graze, but it will need a few stitches. That’s what happens on missions; I get so into what’s happening that if it’s not a shot in the damn face, I push through. I use the first aid box and fix myself up. It’s good enough to get Lawson off my back. Once we land, I’ll go get stitches.
“Well, at least this mission didn’t suck,” he says bitterly as he pours himself a drink.
“Don’t worry; I told you, we’ll get this guy. Bot has narrowed it down to three possible senators. It won’t be long now,” I assure him.
“If Kurt were here, we’d blow off steam in some hole-in-the-wall strip club and drink until wrong was right again.”
“Yeah. He was a fucking Wikipedia of trashy establishments. And he knew exactly which woman had natural ones and who had fake ones from a mile away. And he knew how long they had been in.”
“But it didn’t matter—small tits or big ones, Kurt was rejected by all women, across the board,” Lawson jokes. I laugh along with him.
“We should go out tonight after we get you stitched up. Get shit faced and fuck everything moving.”
“Oh yeah? And who’s gonna explain to your kids why Mom is in jail for killing Daddy?”
“Hell yeah, that’s right. My wife would skin me alive. It’s our anniversary this weekend. I should be sober, and you know…awake for it.”
“Good plan,” I smirk. Lawson downs his drink and takes another. I figure it’s okay since we are off for the next few days.
“Hey, what’s it like? Marriage,” I ask.
“It’s like an extra parachute. It’s heavy and cumbersome as fuck. But when the one you have goes out—shit, you run to that extra set because it will save your life.”
“The hell does that mean?”
He sits up in his seat and looks out at the night sky as he talks. “Look, most of the time my wife nags too much, worries too much, and complains too damn much. But that’s just everyday crap. You have to look at the kind of woman you have when things go bad.
“Two years ago, my dad died, and it was like being hit by a fucking Mack truck. I didn’t know anyt
hing about planning funerals and shit. Hell, I was just trying to not lose it altogether. But she was there, the whole time. She let me be pissed off, sad, pathetic, drunk, and stupid, whatever I needed; she was there for all of it. You don’t get that shit at the strip club.”
I look away, drifting in my own thoughts. I was safer in the field. That way my mind was solely focused on the mission. But now that the mission is complete, it allows my mind to wander over to Shelby.
“Wait, it’s that woman who was in the car with you that day you drove me home from the hospital, right?” Lawson says. I hesitate; talking to my brothers is hard enough, let alone to my partner. I just don’t do well with…feelings and shit.
“Yeah,” is all I can manage to say out loud.
“What’s the problem? Is she trying to tie you down already?”
“No. It’s the opposite. She’s running like she’s trying to win the Olympics. She’s running far and fast.”
“Could it be she’s just not into you?” Lawson asks.
I hear laughter come out of nowhere. “What the hell?” I ask as I look around. I hear Bot’s voice.
“Can you believe Lawson? How could a woman not be into us? We’re awesome. Right, buddy?”
“Bot, where the hell are you?” I demand.
“Look down; I’m the in-flight movie! It was a simple hack,” he says as if having his face on my screen is a good thing.
“How long have you been listening, nerd?” Lawson asks.
“I always listen. But like any gifted sage, guiding his flock, I only appear when you need me,” Bot says.
“Not anymore you don’t,” Lawson says, reaching over to turn the screen off.
“Wait! I need to speak to my guy here. Gage, have you tried talking to her?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yeah, I did.”