by Low, Gennita
It was wrong on every imaginable level. And so totally unfair.
“Luke!” Colin called out as he walked towards them. “Hey, bro, I see you’ve met my lovely sister.”
How could this be happening?
“Yes,” Luke said as he avoided eye contact with her. “We just met.”
“What did I tell you? Huh? She’s single, and I think she’d be just your type.”
I’m not hearing this. This isn’t real. “Julie, Luke, here, is a Navy SEAL.”
Check that one off my list. Figures.
Her anger at how completely fucked up this all was gave her strength. “Oh, really?” She lowered her eyelids and spoke while tilting her head back, viewing his face through the tiniest slits her eyes could make. “Looks more like a UPS driver to me.”
“Ha. You’re funny, sis,” Colin said. He leaned into Luke and whispered just loudly enough so she could hear him. “I think she likes you,” following it up with a waggle of his eyebrows. Colin threw his arm around Luke’s shoulders, which looked ridiculous because Luke was nearly three inches taller and probably outweighed him by forty pounds. He pulled Luke to the kitchen.
Julie slammed the front door so hard it sounded like a sonic boom. Voices in the other room immediately stopped. Her mother poked her head around the corner, her eyebrows knitted together.
“Sorry. The wind caught it.”
Her mother smiled and disappeared again.
Luke stood by his sister and was shaking hands with several of the other groomsmen and being introduced to family members. He shook hands with Julie’s parents, which was one of the strangest scenes Julie had witnessed in a long time.
Julie decided she’d just ignore him. Whenever he moved into her line sight, she’d turn her back. She’d stare to the side to avoid having to see him out of the corner of her eye. She’d look down, or check her fingernails—she’d look anywhere and everywhere but in his direction. There was no way she was going to tolerate his scrutiny before she’d had that good and thorough talk with herself and perhaps a nice, long, private cry.
Very quickly, Julie ran out of places she could look without appearing to be a social deviant. She began to feel like one. Her mother had come over to her several times, asking if she was feeling well. That meant that her efforts to look casual and unaffected were definitely not working.
The minister arrived, and the rehearsal began in earnest. She was put into position behind Stephanie’s friends. And—of course!—Luke was placed in the corresponding position on Colin’s side.
Great. She wondered what else could go wrong. And she didn’t have to wait long to find out.
The minister wanted the bridesmaids and groomsmen to walk in together, all the pairs from the wedding party, arm in arm. She tried her very best not to touch him, which was naturally impossible. She tried not to have their legs brush against each other, which was also impossible. She tried not to think about the electric sizzle of his arm as he hugged hers to his side. And while she got more and more tense, he relaxed.
And he threaded the fingers of his right hand through the ones on her left, holding them tight against his chest. He rubbed the length of her forefinger as she tried not to move hers, but the warmth of his fingertips on the back of her hand, along the sides, and between her fingers in an intimate linking was making her ears buzz. She even had to tolerate a knowing smile from her brother, and his wiggling eyebrows. She gladly parted company with Luke and took her position at the end of the line of bridesmaids.
Thank goodness they didn’t have to do that again. The rehearsal was declared a success and everyone retired to the kitchen to eat.
She scrutinized Stephanie carefully, probably looking for some evidence she wasn’t really Luke’s sister, which she already knew was ridiculous. Julie could see the family resemblance. Stephanie’s blue eyes were the same shade as Luke’s, her lips were full. She was pretty, and appeared to be having a good time.
Glancing around the room, she couldn’t find Luke and began to relax, thinking perhaps he had decided to leave early. He couldn’t have misunderstood her coldness. Perhaps he’d gotten the message, finally.
But no such luck. Her back stiffened when she heard him call out to her from behind. Though it wasn’t very smart, she turned around. No helpful distractions were within earshot, unless she yelled.
“I’ve thought hundreds of times about what I’d say to you if we met someplace. All the things I rehearsed have just gone out of my mind. Completely vanished.” He pressed his fingers against his forehead.
She didn’t want to drink in the cool blue liquid of his gaze, but she couldn’t help it, finishing it off with a quick glance to his lips that caught his attention. His nostrils flared and his breathing deepened. Within seconds, their breathing was in tandem that magical the chemistry enveloped them both.
She saw movement at her waist and saw one hand begin to rise.
She immediately took a step back.
“Don’t,” she said.
“I’m sorry, Julie. I really am.”
“Good.” She whirled away and marched back into the kitchen to join other partygoers.
Julie didn’t have any trouble avoiding his gaze the rest of the evening. Luke seemed to disappear. And then she was told he had left.
Thank God.
She poured herself a big glass of red wine and sank into the family room couch. She listened to the happy banter of the bride and her girlfriends. She watched her brother joke with a couple of his groomsmen. Her parents danced to something on the radio. The caterers were busy clearing the kitchen.
And Julie wasn’t here at all. She was back in San Diego on the beach, replaying everything that had happened with Luke.
How could something that felt so right be so wrong?
Chapter Eight
‡
Luke went straight to the motel and crashed. Up until tonight, he’d been sleeping well without the medication. Tonight, he wasn’t so sure he could.
He knew it would be a mistake to watch TV. Something would snag him, and then he’d be off in that loop in his brain, like a hamster in its wheel. Of all the messed-up situations. He was now going to be family with the woman he’d had a truly momentous one-night stand with. It had been a beautiful evening and morning after, until his past had overwhelmed him. He knew he was damaged goods. It would have been better for her if they’d never met again.
But that was impossible now. The marriage of his sister and her made meeting Julia unavoidable. It was selfish on his part, but he was angry with his sister and her brother. Angry about their love. Angry about their normal future.
Not that he blamed them, actually. He’d made different choices with his life, and because of his choices, he was forever altered in a totally fucked-up and negative way.
He could never have what Stephanie and Colin had. He knew how much work it would be for a woman to create some kind of normal life with him, and it was dangerous. In trying to save him, it could well cost another woman her life.
Julie had been such a sweet thing. That’s why it felt so bad, knowing he had hurt her. She’d lovingly kissed his scars and tats, given herself to him with a full and open heart, unafraid.
I don’t do uncomplicated.
No, she wouldn’t understand the complicated jumble that was his brain, otherwise she wouldn’t say such a thing. If she only knew.
I want to be sorely missed when I’m gone.
That was the thing, though, wasn’t it? Falling in love meant losing someone when they didn’t come back. That wasn’t the way to treat another human being, though. Much better to keep them from waiting at all, from ever knowing him. That would be kinder.
Except it was too late for that now. He knew her, all right. He knew her little mewling sounds, the way her body yearned for him, her pure heart. Though he’d known it was wrong, he couldn’t help but give her that. He’d wanted, for just one night, to live the fantasy of being someone’s hero—to be her hero. That guy wh
o could rock that sweet woman’s world and give more than he would take. It was almost like a little piece of bright crystal had broken off her and had lodged inside him somewhere. Some little piece of good that was her spirit.
Though emotionally injured, he wanted to be the warrior who was worthy of the medals he wore, still worthy of the Trident he’d earned. Be that man who could feel emotions without having to cover them up under a hundred pounds of equipment. Who didn’t have to dive from a plane at midnight just to feel fully alive, to be present without the risk of death to define his boundaries.
He fell into a deep sleep.
The woman in red came to him, finding her way under the covers, stretching out against him, her face hovering just above his. He was aware that she was a dream, because he didn’t feel her so much as sense her, see her. She gave him that look that said she wanted to be taken. But as he lifted his mouth to hers in his dream, her lips were not there. Her iridescent body called to him, just as her lips had, but he could not touch her. He could hear her, but couldn’t hear the sound of his own voice. He heard the steady pulsing of her heartbeat and her breath pushing in and out of her lungs as if she was inside him. Their hearts beat in unison.
Luke, the lady whispered. I’m waiting for you, Luke. Her voice faded as he watched the ambulance take her beautiful, warm body to some eternal resting spot. Where she wouldn’t laugh or cry, or hear the sound of her own child being born. He’d done that. He’d taken all that away from her. He’d taken it from himself, too.
Luke. I’m waiting.
He was just about to follow her, figuring he’d better hurry, when he woke up.
His body was heaving like he’d been running, and he was short of breath. He’d fallen asleep in his clothes, which were so soaked they dampened the sheets as well. The front of his blue shirt was stuck tight against his chest by his clammy T-shirt.
He sat up to listen. He’d heard breathing. Or was it the ocean? He’d seen her slip under the sheets, but he was above the sheets in his tiny motel room.
He lay back into the white cotton pillows, staring through the blackness toward the ceiling he couldn’t see, and tears rolled from the outside corners of his eyes and onto the pillowcase. The torment and pain of knowing he was not whole scared him. Rolling to the side, he brought his knees to his chest. He buried his face in the cotton pillowcase, bringing one arm over his ears to block any sounds of her breathing or her heartbeat. If she called his name he didn’t want to hear it.
He began to cry in the dark and all alone, hoping that soon sleep would come and give him peace.
Chapter Nine
‡
Julie got a call on her cell from a number she didn’t recognize. It was a San Diego area code, so she figured it was one of Stephanie’s friends.
It was Luke.
“I hope you don’t mind.”
Part of her wanted to tell him to go to hell, but she heard something in his voice that alerted her concern. “I don’t mind. Are you all right, Luke?”
He paused for a few seconds. She heard traffic in the background on his end of the line. He was outside somewhere, or near an open window.
“No.” He cleared his throat and, into the silence he asked, “Are you still there?”
“Yes, Luke. I’m here.”
“I wanted to apologize for my behavior—”
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Over at Aroma Roasters.”
She looked at her bedside clock. It was nearly seven thirty. “You want some company?”
“Not sure that’s a very good idea, Julie.”
“Then why did you call me?”
“To apologize. I thought since we were going to be family from now on, we should bury the hatchet.”
“Which hatchet? The one between my shoulder blades or the one between yours?”
“Funny.”
She heard his breathing; it was a little raspy, like he was shaking between breaths. The smooth, confident sailor she’d been with that magic night had turned into a teenage boy, she thought.
“Why don’t you give me a few minutes, and I’ll come over and we can have breakfast.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary. I said what I had to say.”
“So you don’t want to have breakfast with me?”
“Julie, talking to you is…hard. This is me, apologizing.”
“Yes, and you haven’t answered my question yet, Luke.”
After a brief pause he said, “Yes, I would like to have breakfast with you.”
“I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”
Julie scrambled to the shower. She washed her hair and shaved everything she could. She put on a black panties and bra set. Slipped her legs into her straight-legged jeans that were perhaps just a little too small. Put on a white cotton long-sleeved T-shirt. She checked to be sure she could see the black bra through the cotton fabric.
Perfect.
She bunched her hair into a crystal-studded clip, applied a little pressed powder and fresh, red-cherry lip gloss. She added a little color to her cheeks and applied mascara and some pearl white eyelid powder. Last she walked through the spritzer of cologne.
And then she took a good look in the mirror.
“What are you doing, Julie?”
The face stared back at her, looking perky and bubbly. Her lipstick was too red. Her blush a little too deep pink. The shadow of her black bra too obvious. She’d put on too much perfume.
She removed the hair clip, wiped off the blush with a damp washcloth, dabbed off some of the perfume and changed her shirt to a black one. She kept her jeans. She brushed her hair down smooth, tucked it behind her ears, and left it plain.
Aroma Roasters smelled wonderful and fresh. The place was packed with people sipping espressos at small tiled tables, or bellying up on stools at the hammered copper counter that overlooked the street. The scream of the machines punctuated the air. Taking a deep breath, she searched the room from right to left and spotted him in a shadowed corner. His chin rested against his fist, propped up by his elbow resting on the tabletop.
He was watching her but didn’t get up until she began to walk in his direction. She knew that if she’d missed him somehow, he would have stayed seated and just let her go. Something in her heart ached over the man’s coldness.
“What can I get you?” he asked.
“Just a cappuccino.”
“I’ll be right back,” he said stiffly. She watched several women eye him appreciatively and give her a close inspection. He waited in line, got two cappuccinos, and then returned to the table.
She folded one forearm over the other as she watched him take a sip of the hot coffee, leaving a little foamed milk on his upper lip that he licked away with that rough tongue that had done things to her body. She found it difficult to be angry with him, but decided not to open the conversation, instead to just watch and see where it led on its own.
He frowned and linked his fingers together on the tabletop. “Julie, I want to explain a couple of things to you. It was suggested that I call you to apologize, and maybe give you a little explanation of what’s been going on with me.”
“Fair enough,” she tried to look and sound neutral. She reminded herself she had that disclosure statement tucked away somewhere in her mind, so she could prove to herself she’d been properly warned in case something happened that turned out to be painful.
He licked his lips, and then bit down on a small corner, turning his head to study the street outside. When he directed his gaze back to her, the blue eyes bathed her body in tingles, warming her insides. Unlike before, when she’d been sitting this close to him in the restaurant the morning when everything fell apart, this time she could see his eyes were filled with things he didn’t want to say.
“Julie, almost two years ago now, I was engaged.” He twisted an imaginary ring around his fourth finger.
She’d heard “was engaged” and relaxed. It was, after all, in the past.
&nbs
p; “I’d gotten her pregnant. I was going to do the right thing and marry her.” His eye blinked several times. “We sent down to visit her parents in Florida to tell them the news.”
She braced herself for something she was pretty sure she wasn’t going to like. Is there a love child, Luke?
He started tracing the rim of the white mug with his forefinger. The dusting of dark hair on the backs of his hands looked so sexy as she tracked it with her eyes until it disappeared under the cuff of his blue shirt. Again he looked away before turning back to focus on her face, eyes gently dropping to her lips this time, and then honestly returning hers.
“I loved her, Julie. I hadn’t planned to get married, but I loved her, and I wanted to be the man she expected me to be.”
“Okay. So far so good.” Julie had the urge to take one of his hands in hers, but resisted the temptation.
He took in a deep breath and then let it out. “I’d had a difficult time overseas, and was considering perhaps not re-upping this next cycle. So, I thought maybe this was a sign I should consider getting out of the Teams to do something ancillary, perhaps go private, stateside.”
Julie nodded, and waited.
“So we went down to see her folks, to tell them we’d decided to get married. We didn’t tell them about the baby yet. Perhaps we should have.” He sat back and looped his thumbs into his jeans belt loops. “I hadn’t been sleeping very well. I guess I was tired. I fell asleep and—” he swallowed, his chin down, hanging his head. After he dropped his eyes, he whispered, “I crashed the car and she was killed.”
Julie found it difficult to look him in the eyes, but she did anyway. “That could have happened to anyone.”
“But it happened to me.” He whispered, “And to her.”
Julie leaned forward and touched his hand. “And it wasn’t your fault. Don’t you see that?”
“I had no business being behind the wheel with my lack of sleep. I wasn’t careful, and I misjudged my reaction time. I should have known it.”
