The Officer Says "I Do" (21 page)

“Good,” was all he could mumble into her neck. She chuckled and nodded.

His hand came up to rub between her breasts. The touch was soothing rather than sexual, and soon enough Skye heard his breathing change to the low, deep rhythm that said he was asleep.

Though she had been dead asleep not long ago, Skye spent the next few hours battling back the thoughts that worked their way through her mind.

***

“Are you positive Dwayne wanted us here to say good-bye?” Skye couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow she was in the way. Didn’t belong there.

“Yes. Wait here for a few minutes while I go help them load bags up.” He gave her waist a quick squeeze then jogged over to the two charter buses. Somehow, even compared to the multitude of Marines in their cammies, he looked intimidating. Important. Alpha in his simple polo shirt and khakis.

With nothing to do—and not wanting to wander around and get in the way—Skye took in her surroundings instead. There were crying women everywhere. Little children clung to cameo-clad legs. Hugs. Whispers. Promises. Kisses.

She felt almost like an intruder on dozens of intimate marital moments while she watched the Marines of D’s company say their good-byes. But she had nowhere else to look. Though nobody seemed to mind her presence anyway, as wrapped up in their own embraces as they were.

She looked for Tim and still found him busy loading bags into the cargo hold of the buses on some makeshift assembly line. Nothing to do but continue being a fly on the wall.

The vast difference in emotions was the most interesting. A few wives looked almost bored, as if saying good-bye was just routine. No big deal. Maybe to them it was. Depressing thought. Others wept, uncaring who witnessed their sorrow. The ones who cracked Skye’s heart were the women who refused to show weakness, no matter how it hurt. They stiffened their spines, rolled back their shoulders, and said their good-byes with dry eyes. But as those women turned away from the buses, she could see their lips tremble, their hands shake, their eyes blink away tears.

To Skye’s surprise, one man said his farewell to his wife before she boarded. Just a small reminder that the military wasn’t as cookie-cutter as she’d previously thought.

“I’m pleased to see you supporting our deploying Marines.”

Skye gasped and turned, startled by the voice. “Mrs. Blackwater. You scared me.”
In
more
ways
than
one.
She rubbed a hand over her galloping heart.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Mrs. Blackwater gave her a small, almost sad smile as she turned back to watch the boarding. “Heartbreaking to watch, isn’t it? No matter how many times you go through it yourself, or see others go through it… never gets easier.” She heaved a small sigh, as if remembering a distant memory. Probably the last time she’d had to watch her own husband leave.

Skye nodded. Interesting. She didn’t expect such compassion from the older woman. Perhaps that was her fault. Maybe she’d misjudged—

“Oh for the love… Would you just look at that?” The woman thrust a finger toward a young, very pregnant woman clinging desperately to her Marine. Mascara leaked down her cheeks as she let out a stifled wail. He pulled gently on his arm, but she only dug her heels in, gripping harder. They might have to get a crowbar for that one.

Skye couldn’t blame her for being upset. Clearly, her husband would miss the birth of their child. How hard. She couldn’t even imagine—

“Someone needs to slap some sense into her. She’s causing a scene. This is completely unacceptable.” Mrs. Blackwater shook her head and walked toward her husband standing to the side. Most likely to file an Overly Emotional in Public report.

The witch.

Okay. Apparently her initial judgment wasn’t so far off to begin with.

“Sucks, huh?” Madison walked up and laid her head on Skye’s shoulder. “I’m not gonna cry this time. I swore to myself this time I wouldn’t—”

“You always cry. It’s how I know you’ll miss me,” Dwayne said as he ambled up.

With an almost-silent sob, Madison launched herself at D, wrapping her arms around him. “You big dumbass,” she choked out into his shoulder. “Of course I won’t miss you.”

“Of course not,” D crooned, his honey-sweet voice soothing even as it gently teased. “I won’t miss you either.”

Madison sniffed. “’Kay.” As she stepped back, Skye took her place in the giant’s embrace.

“Stay safe.”

“No problem. We’ll rarely even step outside the wire. They never let us have any fun.” With one last squeeze, she let him go.

Tim slapped him on the back, a manly sign of affection appropriate for public. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Shit. Now I
really
won’t have any fun.” D grappled Tim into a bear hug, then pulled Jeremy in for the ultimate bonding moment. “Try not to be bored without me.”

“Jesus. I think you cracked my spine.” Jeremy rolled his shoulders but smiled. “I doubt boredom will be a problem. Besides, maybe Tim and I will be right behind you.”

“Just what Afghanistan needs.” With a grin and a handshake for the guys, he jogged to the buses, thick boots thudding on the parking lot pavement.

Maybe
Tim
and
I
will
be
right
behind
you.
The words echoed in her mind as the bus engines roared to life. Tim stood behind her, and she leaned back just a little until she could feel him. Reassure herself he was still with her. For now.

But eventually his time would come. Sooner or later, he would deploy. She couldn’t delude herself into ignoring that fact. And she would be one of the women left behind, saying tearful good-byes. The knowledge that the day would come had been there, somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind.

But now, watching it live, the veil had truly been lifted. This was her life. Could she handle it?

She’d have to.

Tim stuck his head through the cracked door of the office. “Sir? You asked to see me?”

Colonel Blackwater waved him in without looking up. “O’Shay, good. Come on in; just give me a minute to finish this up.”

Tim edged in, taking a seat in front of the massive oak desk in the CO’s office. While the Colonel finished flipping through the paperwork, Tim glanced around from the corner of his eye.

Rows of plaques and frames holding awards were lined on the walls, covering almost every inch of space. Several shadow boxes containing ribbons and medals sat on bookshelves or on top of file cabinets. A healthy, vibrant spider plant sat in the corner next to the big window. Probably watered by the administrative assistant, Tim thought. Blackwater didn’t seem like much for what anyone would call a
domestic
task
. Too feminine.

“So.” Colonel Blackwater’s voice cracked through the silence, jolting Tim back. “How’s life?”

That’s what he was called away for? He left the rifle range early because the Colonel wanted to chew the fat? No, there was more to this. Tim approached the question with caution. And he hated that, at any point, he had to question his boss’ motivation.

“Training went well, sir. Only two failed to qualify today at the range, though it was a near miss both times. I’m sure tomorrow’s reshoot will see one hundred percent.”

Blackwater sat back and crossed one ankle over his knee, hands laced on his stomach. A casual pose, if someone was only paying half attention. Tim wasn’t fooled. The man was a study in underhandedness.

“Not what I meant, Captain, though I think you know that. How is life? How’s marriage treating you?”

Shit. And once again, the Colonel trapped him into personal talk. Tim hated bringing home with him to the office. Often refused to do so. It was nobody’s business, period, what went on in a Marine’s home. As long as what happened at home didn’t affect the Marine’s job performance, he never saw a need to discuss it. But try saying that to a superior officer.

“Things are going well, sir. Marriage is… better than I expected.”

Blackwater stared at him, waiting for more. When Tim didn’t continue, he sighed heavily. “O’Shay, you’re going to make me drag it out of you, aren’t you?”

Yes. Tooth and nail. “No. I’m just not sure what you’re looking for, sir.”

“Does your wife support your career?”

Jesus. How was it any of the man’s business? “She supports me.” He realized, as he said it, it wasn’t just some bullshit evasive answer. It was the truth. Regardless of her feelings about the military, she supported him. And that was enough for Tim.

The Colonel leaned forward and flipped a picture frame around to face Tim. Tim glanced at it. It was the Blackwaters, much younger, standing in front of an American flag.

“This was taken the day I pinned on my Captain bars. My wife was behind me every step of the way, without fail. Setting up house, breaking it down before a move. Hosting spouse events, mixing and mingling with other wives. Foregoing a career so she could concentrate on supporting mine. Keeping the home fires burning, so to speak.”

So far, it sounded much like his own mother’s life. And almost word-for-word what Tim had always expected in a wife.

“The saying is true, that behind every good man is a good woman.” Blackwater chuckled.

“Why not next to every man?” Tim murmured before he could think twice.

“Come again?”

“Nothing,” Tim said quickly.

The Colonel was quiet a moment. “My wife said she was pleasantly surprised by Mrs. O’Shay’s hosting abilities. She’s had… concerns. But your wife stepped up to the plate and delivered, as it seems. And also showed some good support during the send-off the other day. She’s coming around nicely. So congratulations to you.”

“You mean congratulations to my wife. For hosting a successful event.”

Blackwater chuckled. “No, you. I had my doubts, I’ll admit. When I met your wife at the barbeque, I thought, ‘No, this won’t work.’ I thought you’d shot your foot off with your choice. Knowing you’re a career man, I just didn’t see what the benefit was having a wife like that.”

A
wife
like
that.
A slow rage simmered in Tim’s gut. How many years would he get in the brig for choking a lieutenant colonel? Too many. He kept his face carefully blank and let the CO have his say. His stupid, judgmental say.

“Turns out I was wrong. Yup, I can admit it when I am. I was wrong. You brought her to heel after all, and in quick time, too.”

Brought her to heel. Like a fucking dog. Tim bit his tongue. Every man was entitled his opinion, ignorant as it was. Tim didn’t have to agree with them. God, sometimes it sucked to be forced to follow orders.

The older man leaned forward, elbows on his desk, and dropped his voice a notch. “I know some people would say I’m old-fashioned for thinking this, but that’s not my problem. The fact is, I think a spouse has everything to do with how far a Marine will go in his career. Wrong wife can be a death sentence to your military dreams.”

The statement wasn’t even close to surprising for Tim. Many still believed that a wife’s “performance” was actually recorded on the military member’s service record. Completely false in this day and age, but the myth still persisted. And some felt it did matter. Hell, he used to. He used to think the type of woman he married mattered a great deal. Skye shot that one to shit. And thank God for it.

Colonel Blackwater was well known for his emphasis on “good, core family values.” Family values were great. But what Blackwater really meant was every man was to bring home the bacon and every woman was to stay home, barefoot and pregnant, baking pies. Tim almost laughed at the thought of Skye chained to the oven, baking anything other than a disaster in the kitchen. Then the thought of her pregnant flitted through his mind, and he felt a deep tug in his gut. Wasn’t hard to identify that one. Longing. God, she would make a fantastic mother.

The CO went on, oblivious to Tim’s inner thoughts. “And my wife has mentioned that if Mrs. O’Shay needs any pointers or tips, she’d be more than willing to help out. Lessons on hosting, appropriate dress, that sort of thing.”

“I actually enjoy my wife’s originality,” Tim commented casually. “She’s exactly what I needed.” And he meant that.

Tim was walking a tight rope. He disagreed wholeheartedly with the Colonel’s point of view. But saying so would get him nowhere. Not only would he not change the mind of a man so set in his ways, but a negative review could seriously hamper—or ruin—his hopes of staying on through twenty years.

Blackwater raised a brow but didn’t comment on Tim’s remark. “So I wanted to just let you know that I was pleased with your situation. You know you are setting an example for the younger Marines. And I look forward to seeing your wife again at the Dining Out next week.”

Shit. He’d completely forgot to mention the event to Skye. “Right. Of course.”

“You can go now.”

Tim left, barely making it to his office and quietly shutting the door before letting his hands fist with anger.

The man was a certifiable jackass. But Tim had to keep reminding himself that one man wasn’t the Marines. For every dipshit CO, there were five great leaders. And Blackwater would be leaving soon for a new duty station, hopefully to be replaced by a Marine who understood and appreciated the boundaries between home life and work. Who wouldn’t judge Tim’s performance on his wife’s outfit of the day.

Tim grabbed his cover and left his office, hoping he could catch the two Marines who needed to reshoot the next day. He wanted to wrap up business and head home to his unique and perfect-for-him wife.

***

Skye plopped down on the couch after another exhausting—but fulfilling—work shift. Oh man, was she ever ready for a nap. Who brought their three-year-old and twelve of his friends into a fine dining restaurant for a birthday party? A parent who didn’t mind that she and the staff would be scraping noodles off the ceiling for a week, clearly. Her hair still smelled like marinara sauce and garlic. She wouldn’t be able to eat spaghetti for months.

She toed her shoes off and then propped her ankles on the coffee table. Then, with a sigh, she picked up the shoes and walked them to the shoe rack by the front door before resuming her seat on the couch.

When had she started caring about her shoes and where they went? Who cared if they went on the shoe rack? She was just going to put them on again in the morning. So what made her get up to put them away?

Because she now lived with a neat freak, and sometimes people needed to make adjustments and compromises to make a marriage work, she reminded herself. It was a small thing to do, and she was only being snippy because she was tired.

She hoped. Otherwise, her attitude was starting to become a habit. And
snippy
was definitely not a personality trait she wanted to adopt.

Skye glanced up at the mantel, noticing how stark it was. Her incense and other decorations were still upstairs in a box in the guest room. Hiding. The original plan had been to replace them right away. But now that she stared at the area, she realized how uncluttered it looked. How fitting that was for Tim’s home.

Compromise. The word of the day. More like the word of the year. She just had to remember it wasn’t that big of a deal. Tim’s house worked the way it was. She was newer, her things needed to earn their spot. Perhaps it was rude to just sort of Skye-bomb the place with all her things from the start.

Maybe eventually she could work a few of her own items into the mix. But for now, it seemed like the best thing to do to make Tim—the biggest obstacle in their own marriage—comfortable. The more comfortable he was, the easier, more relaxed he seemed with her, with their marriage. It hadn’t escaped her notice at all that since the night of the Blackwater dinner, he’d been much more stress-free. His shoulders weren’t tense; his face wasn’t screwed up in a scowl. He could just be. And she couldn’t help but think the main reason for that was her success in not embarrassing him at his boss’ house, at a coffee, and just in general.

This was his life. His livelihood. His childhood dream. To be a Marine and serve his country until he retired. If it took a few years of wearing subdued clothing and keeping her goddess statues in a private room for the time being, she would survive.

Later on she could bring in the sneak-attack.

But until then, it seemed like keeping the place spotless and wearing boring outfits would have to do. She wanted this marriage to work more and more each day. She wasn’t going to give up without a fight.

***

Tim walked in, expecting to find the house back to its original clutter and chaos that he’d come to accept living with Skye. Clothes on the floor, shoes in a heap in the middle of the hallway just waiting for someone to trip over them, some candle burning that he couldn’t identify, music he’d never heard of before blaring. Instead, he found the place exactly as he’d left it the night before.

Pristine. Quiet. Sterile.

Had he really lived like that before? Tim glanced around the living room and dining area, marveling at how big the table looked when it wasn’t covered in discarded mail, draped with a drying bra or seven magazines with various pages ripped out. The kitchen was sparkling, no hint of a mess or a burned batch of some unidentifiable who-knows-what in the oven.

It was completely devoid of all the little hints of Skye.

A ball of ice formed low in his gut, and he darted to the back door to check the patio. No Skye. He bound up the stairs before remembering her car had been outside. She was obviously still in the townhouse. He forced himself to take the second half of the stairs extra slowly to make up for his unreasonable—and completely confusing—panic. Why was he so worried she would leave?

He saw the light on in the master bedroom and breathed a silent sigh of relief. She was probably practicing some bizarre yoga pose or had placed herself in some restorative trance and hadn’t heard him come home.

Instead, he found her asleep. Curled up in the middle of the bed, on top of the covers, she looked so small. And she still had her clothes from work on. Stark black pants molded to her legs, which were folded up, knees almost reaching her breasts. The white shirt was wrinkled and had some mysterious brownish-yellow stain all down one arm. But the color only served to show how pale her skin was. Not two months ago, she’d had a healthy tan, glowing from her time outside.

Was it just from the exhaustion of her day? Could one shift make someone so pale? Maybe she was coming down with something. Twenty-four-hour bug. Or had he been missing cues that she was stretching herself too thin until now?

Tim sat on the bed gently, doing his best not to wake her. One hand was contracted into a fist by her mouth, and he traced over the knuckles one at a time. Empty. Her fingers were empty. She always wore such big, chunky jewelry before. Rings so big he wondered how she could bend her fingers. Bracelets that clinked and jangled all the time and swallowed her tiny wrists.

When had she stopped wearing them? The emptiness of her hands only served as a reminder that he’d never given her a wedding band.

Nice
move, dickhead.

Tim vowed to take care of it the first moment he had time.

Skye stirred, and a breathless little mewl escaped her parted lips. Tim was hard in an instant, but he was determined to let her rest. As she shifted, her face turned toward the waning afternoon light, he saw the faint darkness under her eyes.

He was going to take better care of his wife. Starting now.

Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at him, smiling a little. “Hey, you. Good day at work?”

Yeah, if you count a run-in with a jackass of a boss.
“It was fine. How about you? Tiring?” He traced a finger down her cheek, heart clenching a little when her lips curved and she closed her eyes as if savoring the touch.

“You have no idea. What kind of parent brings their child to a four-star restaurant for a birthday party and expects the servers to entertain them? That’s why man invented Chuck E. Cheese.”