I’m not one to turn down a challenge.
“Get those girls out of here and go lock the doors.”
Chapter Nine
Miller
The bar is littered with everything we could possibly need for our shots…a bottle of tequila, lime wedges, shot glasses, and salt. I shake my head. Agreeing to shots with Andi has got to be the worst idea I’ve had in a while. I’m no stranger to tequila. I do bad things when I shoot tequila. Most people I know do bad things when tequila is involved.
“Do we need some rules?”
“Rules? You’re such a lawyer.”
“Shhh,” I say, putting my finger over her mouth. I pull away immediately. I don’t need to touch her like that. “Don’t say that too loud. If Celeste hears you, you’ll have to give her the hundred bucks back. I’m supposed to be in med school, remember?”
She tilts her head towards the shot glasses. “What are you waiting for, Miller?”
I proceed to pour us two very liberal shots of tequila. We are both sitting on bar stools, our bodies facing each other, our knees are almost touching. I watch with rapt fascination as Andi licks the skin of her wrist and shakes the salt on the wet skin. I can feel myself growing hard, wondering what her flesh tastes like. She clears her throat, pulling me out of my stupor. I dip my finger in my shot, wet my wrist, and shake a bit of salt on it. We both pick up our shot glasses and lime wedges.
“Here’s to forgetting, if just for a night,” she says, clinking her shot glass to mine.
We lick the salt off our wrists, throw back our shots, and suck the lime wedges, both of us making awful faces.
“Ugh, that was terrible,” she whines, sticking out her tongue and making a sourpuss face.
“This was your idea. You’re not stopping now.”
“I didn’t say I was. They get better. The first one’s always bad.”
“You ready for another?” I ask, grabbing the bottle and tilting it towards her.
“Hell yeah.”
I pour two more shots for us. I grab her wrist before she has the chance to lick it. I can’t watch her do that all fucking night. I contemplate licking it for her, but have to convince myself it’s a bad idea. So, instead, I wet my finger with the tequila and swipe it over her wrist, readying her skin for the salt. I hand her a lime, grab my own, and we down another shot.
I soon lose count of the shots. I can’t tell you what we talk about. I can tell you, however, how many times Andi’s knees touch mine, or how many times she puts her hand on my thigh and squeezes it. I can tell you how many times she pushes her hair out of her face, or how many times she laughs at one of the stupid jokes I tell her. I can tell you how many times she plays with that fucking lip of hers.
I can also tell you, with absolute clarity and stunning detail, the moment she pushes her wrist up to my mouth for me to run my tongue over. I had just swiped another line of tequila over it. I poured the salt on it, but she whispered, “I’m done.” She pushed her wrist towards my face. I sat there frozen, certain that I was drunk, and that this was merely a hallucination I fabricated in my mind. But no, she pushed it up further, right up to my mouth.
“Miller, I’m done. Here.”
Done.
Done with what, exactly? Done pretending that you’re not attracted to me? Done pretending you haven’t been flirting with me all night? Done pretending that you don’t know I want to throw you across this bar and fuck you senseless? What exactly are you done with, Andi?
I grab her hand, pull her wrist into my mouth, and suck. Her pulse kicks up as soon as my tongue makes contact with the skin. I keep her wrist there longer than I should, knowing I won’t get to put my mouth anywhere else on her body. She stands up abruptly, and I pull my mouth away. I prepare to get off my stool and chase after her and apologize, but she pushes between my outstretched legs, and steadies herself with her hands on my chest.
“Miller,” she whispers.
Her chest is rising and falling at a crazy rapid pace. I’m breathing just as hard. My chest feels like it’s about to explode.
“What are you doing, Andi?”
“I don’t know,” she says, her eyes glued to my lips, a hunger blazing in them.
She’s pushing herself closer, moving her hands at an agonizing pace from my chest to my thighs. She’s so fucking close. Lust is clearly displayed across her beautiful face. It’s blazing in those mossy green eyes.
It’s just the tequila.
Her fingers are digging into the tops of my thighs like a vice grip. Her breath, a mix of tequila, lime, and mint, is hitting my mouth with her panting.
“Andi,” I whisper, grabbing the back of her neck and burying my hands in that wild red hair. She moves her eyes from my lips up to my eyes. “Your husband?”
I hate to even bring him up, but I can’t do this with a married woman.
“Where is he?”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head.
“Is he here? In Fairhope?”
“No.”
She manages to get closer, but she’s still not close enough. Our chests are pushed together, and she’s standing all the way between my legs. There’s no mistaking the hard-on that’s pressing against her.
“Are you sure about this? Once I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”
She closes the space. I gasp when her lips hit mine.
Fuck me. I’m kissing Andi.
She sighs into my mouth, giving me the green light to proceed. I try to deepen the kiss, but she pulls back, crying. The look of lust that was blatantly obvious mere seconds earlier is replaced with outright panic.
“Oh, God,” she gasps into her hand. “I’m sorry, Miller. I have to go.”
She takes off running, like the damn bar’s about to explode. It takes me a second to shake off my shock and realize she just ran outside, in the middle of the night. I take off behind her. She’s running down the pier, and then rounds the street in the direction of her house. I could easily catch her, but I don’t. I follow her to make sure she gets inside, but I don’t try to stop her. It’s obvious she doesn’t want to be around me right now.
Fucking tequila.
***
Andi
“Oh, honey, what happened tonight?”
I get my hiccups under control long enough to answer Celeste, who’s in the doorway, watching my emotional spectacle.
“How do you know something happened?”
“Please, Andi. Look at you. You’re a blubbering mess, Charlie’s letters are scattered all over the bed, Tori Amos is being blasted from your stereo, and, if I had to guess, you’ve got one of his Trident pins in your fist.”
I open my fist, the gold of one of my husband’s SEAL pins shining in the soft lamp light. Celeste shakes her head and makes her way over to the bed, pushing aside the worn out letters to pull me into her arms.
“What prompted the pity party?”
“I went to-”
“Whoa, you’re drunk. I’m surprised I didn’t smell all that liquor on your breath from the doorway. Who were you drinking with?”
“Mil,” I hiccup. “Miller,” I get out, prompting a fresh wave of tears. “And I kissed him.”
“Oh, shit.”
I nod my head, fresh tears pouring down my face. “‘Oh, shit’ is right. I’m married, and I shot tequila with Miller and then I threw myself at him and kissed him. I’m a horrible person. The worst wife ever.”
Celeste rubs my back and kisses my head as I cry into her chest. I take comfort in this small act of kindness. We’ve done this too many times to count over the last several years. It might not always be triggered by the same thing, but it always leads back to Charlie.
“Andi, you didn’t do anything wrong. You kissed him. It’s not the end of the world.”
“I made vows, Celeste, and I broke them tonight. I promised to be faithful to him, and I threw myself at Miller like a cheap whore.”
Celeste pries me away from her body and pushes my ha
ir down, getting it out of my face. She does her best to wipe the tears off my cheeks, but they are falling faster than she can catch them.
“Listen to me. You didn’t do anything wrong. Charlie isn’t coming back. You can’t live like a nun for the rest of your life. If you like Miller, then it’s perfectly fine to let things happen.”
I shake my head and push away from her.
“I can’t do that to him. I won’t give my heart to someone else. It belongs to Charlie. I love my husband. I’m not capable of loving anyone else.”
“I’m not saying you have to forget about him or to replace him. I’m certainly not saying you have to love someone else. I wouldn’t even suggest it. This doesn’t have to be about that. But now’s not the time to have this conversation. I know you feel like you’ve done something wrong, but I promise you that everything will be alright. You need to put all of this away and get some rest. Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”
“Please,” I whisper.
I don’t want to be alone. I should have never gotten these letters out of the closet. Celeste clears the bed off for me and peels back the covers. She holds me while I cry, whispering quiet reassurances to me until sleep finally pulls me under.
Chapter Ten
Andi- Two and a Half Years Ago
Dear Charlie,
I know you think us emailing each other is silly since we can talk on the phone, but these pieces of paper keep me sane. Don’t get me wrong, I need your phone calls and Skyping, too. But these emails are tangible proof for me. Proof that I didn’t just imagine our talks. I don’t always know if I dreamed some of our conversations, or if we really talked about specific things. I print each of your emails out and carry them with me everywhere I go. And when your words become too hard to read from me folding and unfolding the paper, or my tears have smudged the ink, I just print them out again and start the cycle once more.
God, Charlie, I miss you so much I can barely breathe. I know you’re okay. I refuse to think any different. I refuse to let my mind go to the places where you are. Hell, I don’t even know where you are. I know you are doing what you have to. Someone has to keep us all safe and sound. It’s totally selfish for me to want you home with me when you are doing a job that’s so much bigger than me and my wants, but I miss you. I want to breathe you in. Your pillow has lost your scent. This is how I measure time when you’re gone. When your pillow stops smelling like you, I know it’s time for you to come home to me. I shouldn’t even be saying this to you. I don’t want you worrying about how I feel over here without you. But, I tell you everything when you’re home, so I’ll do the same while you’re away. I’ve never hid how I feel from you.
Please come home to me soon. I have some news for you, Charlie. A surprise, actually. I know you don’t like them, but this is a really good one! I don’t want to do it like this, when you’re God knows where doing God knows what. I want talk to you face to face and see your beautiful expression when I get the words out so we can celebrate the proper way. Let the fact that I have something amazing to tell you keep you safe and bring you back to me.
I love you more than anything,
Red
Dear Red,
It’s funny, but I do the same thing with these emails. I take a lot of shit from people, but I have to beg to have them printed by my CO’s so I can carry them with me. I never go on a mission without one of your emails tucked away with me. I need you with me at all times, Red. I carry one of your emails, along with a picture of you. The picture changes, depending on my mood. I can’t go anywhere without your beautiful face in my pocket.
I don’t think you’re silly. I’ll take any contact with you, no matter how I can get it. How lucky are we that we have a way to do this? When I was a kid, I’d listen to my Mom talk about how she would go weeks and weeks without hearing from my Pop when he was away. I couldn’t take that kind of torture. I know you couldn’t take it either.
It kills me that this is so hard on you. I wish this wasn’t what I had to do, but it is. It’s in my blood. I tried to warn you that this would be hard for you, hard for us, but you were persistent as hell that night we met. You wouldn’t take no for an answer. Jesus, am I glad you didn’t. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, Red. You’re everything to me. You are stronger than you think, Andi. You can handle anything life throws you. There is no doubt in my mind that no matter what happens in life, whether it is with me, or with you, you can handle it. You are stronger than half of the assholes I’m stuck in this sandbox with.
Things should be wrapping up here soon. This may be the last email you get from me for the next several days. I’ll try to call you in the morning, but I have the feeling we’re heading out much too early for me to try and call you. Once we are done with this next op, I should be heading home to you. I know this is a waste to say, but try not to worry so much. Try to take a full breath, relax, and enjoy life. You and Celeste have a girl’s day. Pamper yourself and get ready for me to come home. Besides, all that stress can’t be good for the baby…am I right? It’s just a guess, but what else would you have to tell me? We don’t exactly try to prevent it from happening. I hope to God I’m right. Nothing would make me happier. That would be one surprise that I would welcome. I’m gonna assume I’m right, and thoughts of you and baby will keep me going until I can get home to the two of you. A feisty little girl with wild red hair just like yours, and an attitude to match would be perfect.
I love you,
Charlie
I try to be strong for my husband. It’s not easy. It’s the hardest thing in the world. If I stay in this house, I’ll go insane, but I have no desire to be with the outside world. I still go to class, avoiding small talk at all costs. I don’t want people to ask me how I’m doing. Lying really isn’t my thing, and I’m sure they don’t want to hear me go on and on about the feelings that are drowning me. I just need Charlie home, and everything will be okay.
I can’t bear to be alone. My mind drifts to dark places it shouldn’t. Charlie and I have an apartment close to where I used to live, so when he’s at work, as I like to put it, Celeste stays with me. Celeste has been a Godsend. She’s my family. I never imagined I would come to need her in my life so much. When my own flesh and blood disowned me for marrying Charlie so young she was there to deal with that blow, too. But, when it came down to pleasing my parents or being with Charlie, there was never one ounce of trepidation in making the decision. I picked Charlie. I’ll always pick Charlie. I don’t know if my parents really love me. I think they are more concerned about whether or not I’m maintaining an image that is fitting of a preacher’s daughter. Marrying at eighteen certainly wasn’t behavior conducive to that image, so I’ve had no contact with them since the day I exchanged vows with my husband.
Celeste and I pull up in the complex, a myriad of emotions coursing through me. Seems to be the norm these days. It’s been a bittersweet day. We just finished my first doctor’s appointment checking on the baby. I’m overjoyed that everything with the baby is perfect, but saddened that she had to be the one holding my hand during the appointment instead of my husband. If I had to guess, this won’t be the last appointment like this. Charlie said he’s coming home soon, but that doesn’t guarantee he won’t be leaving again soon after. I send up a quick prayer, asking God that it’s Charlie in the delivery room with me in seven months when this baby makes its debut into the world.
“Thanks for coming with me,” I tell her as we plop down on the couch.
“There’s nothing else I’d rather have done today. That’s my niece or nephew in there.” She looks at me, a sincere smile dancing across her face. “I’ll do anything for you, Andi. I know how hard these deployments are for you. I love you.”
“Love you, too.” I hug her neck, but jerk back when I hear a knock at the door.
Knocks at the door scare the shit out of me.
It’s been four days since I’ve heard from my husband.
Four days is not
hing in the grand scheme of things, but to a military wife, it seems like a lifetime.
“Celeste, please go see who’s at the door,” I tell my best friend, my voice robotic. I need to sit on the couch and prepare to shut off my emotions. Unless I’m expecting someone, I have to do this every time I hear a knock. I have to turn them off. That’s the only way I’ll be able to deal with what’s on the other side of that door. It could be nothing, but it could be everything.
“Okay, honey. I’ll be right back.”
I close my eyes, fighting off the dread settling in the pit of my stomach. I can hear deep voices coming from the entryway to the apartment, but I do my best to block them out. Tears are streaming down my face. Men don’t come here. I move my hands up to my face, but they’re shaking so bad I can’t connect them to my cheeks to wipe the tears away. After a few failed attempts, I wrap my arms around my waist, clutching my unborn child and just let my tears fall.
Several minutes later, Celeste’s gentle hands are wiping away the tears for me.
“Honey, open your eyes.”
I shake my head ‘no’. If I don’t have to see them, if I don’t have to listen to what they have to say, it won’t be real.
“Andi, please,” she whispers, “let them do what they need to do so we can get them out of here.”
I’m still violently shaking my head, but muster up enough courage to open my eyes. A scene from my deepest, darkest nightmares is being played out in my living room.
This is so much worse than I ever dared imagine.
Celeste grabs me and hoists me up off the couch so the CACO Team can introduce themselves. I’m not interested in names, ranks, or anything else they have to say. I appreciate the fact that they are delivering the news in person, instead of having to hear about it blasted over social media, but this is awful. I don’t want to see these men. I recognize a few members of this Casualty Assistance Call Team from my husband’s platoon. There’s also a Chaplain with them.
The Promise of More: The Home Series, Book Three Page 7
