by Marie Force
No. I just can’t go there, or I’ll lose my mind.
We scoot into Roma’s and secure a table by one of the windows that looks out over Third Avenue. We order beer, pizza and salad, and while we wait, he regales me with funny stories about guys he’s served with and things that happened on deployments, including the time he had to rescue one of his guys who was “held hostage” in a whorehouse in the Philippines.
I’m laughing so hard at his recitation of events that I have tears in my eyes. “How did you know he was being held hostage?”
“They sent a ransom note.”
“No way.”
“I swear! This actually happened. I had exactly four hours to get him back before the ship was due to leave without both of us. If we weren’t on that ship when it pulled out of port, we could’ve kissed both our careers goodbye.”
We devour the salad and a large fresh mozzarella pizza.
“You were right,” he says over a mouthful of pizza. “It doesn’t need anything on it.”
“Duh, I told you.”
He winks, and I melt. I am a puddle of love and desire and desperation, because I know this can’t possibly last. We’re living on borrowed time. As soon as the tour ends, he’ll go back to his life in San Diego, and I’ll return to mine in New York. Sure, I’ll help him out with the offers he’s receiving and continue to manage him from afar, but it won’t be like this.
“Why do you suddenly look so sad, Pop?”
The nickname within the nickname kills me. “I’m not.”
“You suck at lying.”
“I know! Everyone can tell. Why is that?”
“Because your voice gets high like this,” he says, imitating me. “And your eyes go wide, and your lips, they do this pucker thing.”
I’m astounded. “I said two words. How’d you get all that?”
Shrugging, he says, “I pay attention.”
Yes, he does, and that’s one of the many reasons I’ve fallen flat on my face in love with him.
“So why are you sad?”
“I was just thinking about what’ll happen when the tour is over.” I may as well be truthful since he can see right through any lies I might tell him.
“I’m hoping I can convince you to move to San Diego and run my life.”
I stare at him, my mouth hanging open like a fish that’s been pulled from the water and left to flop on land.
With his finger to my chin, he closes my mouth, which is full of pizza. God, I’m sexy, but he only laughs. “Have I shocked the living shit out of my Poppy?”
His Poppy. I am his. If only he knew how totally I’m his. I take a sip of my beer, hoping the liquid will push the pizza past the lump in my throat. “Maybe a little.”
He takes a sip of beer. “Do you think I’m going to want this to end when the tour is over?”
“I, um, I don’t know.”
“I don’t want this to be over, Jules.”
I reach down deep inside and find the courage to do what must be done. “I have to tell you something.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
JOHN
Ava texted me. Ava texted me last night. Jules said she saw it when she checked my phone before we left the hotel.
Okay, so Ava texted me. It’s no big deal. Or is it? I try not to be distracted by this news, but I can’t help it. I am.
“Could I see my phone?”
Jules hands it over.
I turn it on and go right to my texts. “Do you care if I respond?”
“Of course not.”
“You really are an awful liar, Pop.” I caress her face and lean in to kiss her. “It doesn’t mean anything. She’s married, remember?”
Her brows furrow. “They’re having issues.”
“Still?”
“Ah, yeah. I guess it’s pretty bad.”
Is that why she reached out to me? I have no idea how I’m supposed to feel about any of this. A couple of weeks ago, I’d be dancing in the street at this news—or as much as a guy with one good leg can dance in the street. The thought of having another chance with Ava would’ve been cause for celebration.
Now? I look at Jules, pushing pizza crust around on her plate, shoulders slouched into a defeated pose, and I can’t do this to her. I put the phone in my pocket. “How about some dessert?”
“Aren’t you going to text her back?”
“Nah.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m on a date with you, and it would be rude to text my ex when I’m with you.”
“It’s okay if you want to.”
I take her hand and link our fingers. “I don’t want to. I’d much rather tell you about how I busted that wayward petty officer out of a Filipino whorehouse.”
She forces a smile, but the easy rapport we had earlier was lost the minute Ava joined the party.
I pay the check, and when we’re ready to go, we scoot out the door and into the SUV. I thank the beefy security dudes who made it possible for me to take Jules out to dinner without it turning into a circus. They deliver us back to the hotel with a minimum of fuss.
When we get up to the top floor, I realize we never went by Jules’s place. I totally forgot about it. “We forgot to stop at your place.”
“It’s no problem. I’ll grab a cab and go get what I need.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ll see you later?”
I don’t want her to go. “Text me when you’re back?”
“Sure.”
She ducks inside her room, and when the door clicks shut, I experience a moment of panic. Have I screwed this up somehow? How? I didn’t do anything. I received a text from the woman who still has possession of most of my stuff. Jules knows Ava and I agreed to stay in touch, to try to be friends, to try to be something to each other now that we aren’t together anymore.
That’s all this is. I’m sure of it. Except for the part about her texting me in the middle of the night less than a month after she got married.
To Jules’s brother.
Complicated.
Inside my suite, I grab a beer from the fridge, pop it open and take a seat on the sofa, exhausted from the walk into the hotel and down the long hallway to my room. I raise my bottle in a toast to a successful, crutch-free outing. I’ll take the progress where I can find it.
I reach for my phone and open the message app. The message from Ava is almost lost in the sea of texts from unknown numbers. Thank God Jules is handling all that.
I reread Ava’s text. Hey. Are you awake?
Sorry, I tell her. Just saw this. What’s up?
I can see that she’s responding, so I wait, and I hate that I’m breathless with anticipation. Try to see this from my point of view. I yearned for this woman for six long years only to find out it was too late for us by the time I was finally able to contact her. Of course I want to hear what she has to say, even if I know I still can’t have her. And if I could?
I can’t go there.
The phone chimes when her reply arrives. Nothing. I was just awake and figured I’d take a chance that you were too. Saw you on Fallon. You were great.
Thanks. Not sure how I feel about all the attention.
Enjoy it. You deserve every bit of it.
Are you okay, Ava?
I’m not sure exactly. Eric and I are having some issues.
Sorry to hear that.
Why is she telling me this? What does she want me to do about it? Is she telling me because she wants me to know for some reason other than the fact that we decided to stay friends?
It’ll be fine. Just some growing pains. Anyway, I wanted to see how you were doing with all the media stuff. I hope Jules has worked out well for you.
I nearly choke on a sip of beer. Jules has worked out very well for me, in more ways than one. But I can’t tell Ava that.
She’s great. Thank you. She saved my life.
Again, in more ways than one. Why do I feel guilty talking to Ava about Ju
les? They’re sisters-in-law and friends. Ava is my past. Jules is my present and maybe my future. I like her a lot. I like how I feel when she’s around. She’s like a balm on the open wound I carry on my soul, and I’ve begun to depend on her in ways I never expected to depend on anyone again.
It’s not just the sex, as great as that is. It’s her.
She’s the best, Ava replies. Glad it’s working out.
Would she be glad to know how well it’s working out between me and Jules? I have no idea what Ava would think of that, and I hope it’s not something we have to contend with for a very long time. Although, I meant what I said to Jules last night when I asked her to move to San Diego to run my life. And even though it’s still new, I’m hoping she’ll want to continue our personal relationship as well as the professional one.
It’s weird to me that Ava is texting me and I’m thinking about Jules. The conversation with Ava has left me feeling confused and unsettled. Why did she text me in the middle of the night? What was she hoping for? That I would tell her to come to me, since I’m in New York and so is she?
I’m so out of practice with being able to read her or this situation. Other than the guys in my unit, I haven’t had much contact with people in years. I haven’t had to deal with expectations or anything other than the mission, so I’m way out of my league with trying to get a handle on what’s happening with Ava or how it affects me.
And then I remind myself that whatever is happening with her doesn’t affect me. It’s none of my business. She is married to him, even if they’re having issues. That reminder is like a hard, cold dose of badly needed reality. No matter what she was hoping to achieve by texting me, it’s irrelevant to me. It has to be irrelevant to me. That’s the way she wanted it, and it would do me good to remember that.
I finish my beer and get up to grab another one. I watch a full hour of SportsCenter, even though I don’t care about teams I completely lost track of while I was gone. I watch two episodes of Seinfeld, which is as good as it ever was. The show is freaking timeless.
I decide to text Jules. Are you back yet?
On the way.
Want me to order some dessert?
Sure, that sounds good.
I’m excited to know I’ll see her again soon. I want to latch on to that feeling and ride the wave for as long as I possibly can. What do you feel like?
Surprise me. I’ll eat anything.
Will do.
I drag myself up again and go to find the room service menu. The cut on the back of my head is hurting, but otherwise, I feel much better today than I did yesterday after the fall on the treadmill. By tomorrow, I should be good to get back in the gym, although I’ll need to be more careful going forward. The last freaking thing I need is any more injuries.
It takes me a minute to figure out the menu is on an iPad. I fumble my way through the process of calling it up. Technology leaves me feeling somewhat baffled, as if I’ve been dropped onto an alien planet where I don’t speak the language. I’m sure I’ll catch up eventually, but like everything else I’m dealing with, it’s going to take time.
I order a bottle of champagne along with chocolate cake and cheesecake. I’m not sure which she’d prefer, and I look forward to finding out.
I look forward.
The words resonate with me. I’m actually looking forward to something, which is such a huge improvement over the awful low while I was mourning the loss of Ava and the life I hoped to come home to. Even something as small as finding out whether Jules prefers chocolate or cheesecake gives me reason to hope that I just might survive the losses I’ve sustained.
I’m looking forward to seeing her, talking to her, having dessert with her and hopefully spending another night with her. It’s such a fucking relief to look forward to anything after the dreadful few months I’ve had. I venture outside to the terrace and look down at the world going by below. Tiny yellow taxis dart in and out of lanes and between other vehicles like they’re driven by NASCAR drivers trying to win a big race.
I have no idea how long I’m out there when I hear the door to the suite open and close. I turn to see Jules coming toward me wearing a dress and heels. She looks so fucking fresh and pretty and nothing at all like Mary Poppins.
Her gaze collides with mine, and she smiles as she walks across the living room to the terrace.
I hold out my arms to her, and she comes to me like she belongs in my arms, tucked under my chin in a perfect fit. I’m overcome by the alluring scent that belongs only to her.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thanks. I changed while I was home.”
“I see that. Did you get dressed up for me?”
“Maybe a little.”
I hold her closer, wanting her as close as I can get her. “Missed you while you were gone.”
“I was only gone a couple of hours!”
“I missed you.”
She looks up at me. “I missed you, too.”
Holding her gaze, I kiss her, and only because I’m watching her so closely do I see a hint of something resembling apprehension cross her expressive face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You suck at lying, remember?”
She sighs. “Why do I even try?”
“Exactly. What’s on your mind, Poppy?”
“Did you talk to Ava?”
“We texted a little. She just wanted to tell me she saw me on TV.”
“She texted you in the middle of the night to tell you that?”
“Yeah, I guess.” I place my hands on her shoulders. “What do you really want to know, Jules?”
“Did she tell you things are weird between her and Eric?”
“She did. She said they’re having growing pains.”
“From what Rob tells me, it might be more than that.” She’s madly vulnerable telling me this, and all I want is to reassure her.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Are you?”
“Yeah, I really am. No one wants Ava to be happy more than I do. After what I put her through, she deserves the best of everything.”
“What if…”
“Jules.” She seems to force herself to look up at me. “Say what’s on your mind.”
After taking a deep breath, she releases it slowly. “What if she wants you back?”
“She doesn’t.”
“How do you know that?”
“She married your brother. He’s the one she wants. I’ve had to make my peace with that.”
“If she texted you right now and told you she changed her mind and she wants you after all, what would you do?”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Humor me. What if it did?”
“I just don’t know, Jules. I haven’t considered that possibility. She’s married to him. She’s not going to suddenly change her mind.”
Jules drops her hands from my chest and takes a step back, forcing me to release her. She crosses her arms. “I’m way out on a limb with you. I’ve risked everything—my relationship with my brother and sister-in-law, my job, my reputation. I’ve been telling myself that it’s worth the risk because I’ve never felt this way about anyone. We’ve already established that I suck at lying, so I’m telling you the truth. I’m not sure I can do this if there’s any chance that you’ll go running back to her if you have the chance.”
I step toward her to close the distance between us and put my arms around her again. “I’m not going anywhere, Poppy.”
“The entire time I was home, I couldn’t wait to get back to you. I couldn’t wait to see you and talk to you and be with you. I’m almost thirty years old. I’ve been around the block a few times. I know what I can handle and what I can’t. I can’t be your rebound, John. I just can’t do that to myself.”
“I swear to God you’re not my rebound. You’re so much more than that. You’re my light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel. You’ve become the voice in my head. Your opinion is
the one I most want and need. Your calm, cool, steady presence is like a lifeboat in the whirlwind that my life has become. You are not a rebound, Julianne. I swear to you. You’re so much more than that to me.”
She sags into my embrace. “I realize it’s way too soon for a conversation like this, but I hope you understand—”
“I do understand. These aren’t normal circumstances.”
“Hardly,” she says with a little laugh.
I tip her chin up so I can see her gorgeous face. “You feel better?”
“I do. Thank you for listening.”
“I’d never hurt you, Poppy.”
“You wouldn’t hurt me on purpose, but you need to know that you have the capability to hurt me badly.”
“I won’t. I swear I won’t. I’d like to think I’ve learned my lesson about hurting people.”
“It wasn’t your fault with Ava.”
“Yes, it really was. I owed her much better than what she got from me, and I’m determined to do better this time around.”
“There’s one more thing I want to say.”
“You can say whatever you want to me. I’ll always want to hear it.”
“This is a very strange time for you. The offers are rolling in. You can do whatever you want after you retire from the Navy. I don’t want you to feel obligated to me because of this conversation—”
I kiss her. “I don’t feel obligated. If you’d asked me a couple of weeks ago if I could picture anything remotely like this happening to me again, I would’ve said no way. But then my Poppy showed up, rocking the sexiest legs I’ve ever seen, whipped my ass into shape and gave me a reason to keep going.” I frame her face with my hands and kiss the lips I can’t resist. “I’m thirty-seven. I’ve certainly been around the block a few times, and I know something special when I’m holding it in my arms. Whatever my plans turn out to be after the Navy, I want you to be part of them. I want you to help me decide what I should do, and I want you right there with me, if that’s where you want to be.”
“You’re making me weak in the knees,” she says with a cute smile.
I’m not sure where I get the courage, but I scoop her up into my arms.
