Cage
Jaime invited me over, and I don’t know how to take it. I’ve been the one pursuing her this past week, and she’s been the one putting me off.
It’s Saturday evening, exactly one week since she was kidnapped. Three days since I saw her last on Christmas Eve.
Her invitation was on my phone—via text—when I woke up this morning, so I hadn’t even had time to do my usual outreach to her to ask if we could talk. Sometime during Friday night, she determined it was time without me prompting it.
I’m not sure if that bodes well.
If it’s bad, it’s most likely because she’s come to some sort of conclusion or decision on her own without giving me a chance to talk about it, which, in turn, will probably mean she wants to cut ties.
Best-case scenario—if it’s good—she’s decided to forgive me for my stupid decisions and wants to give us a shot.
I’d also accept just a willingness on her part to listen, so I arrive at her apartment at seven PM as requested, armed with several items to help sway her to my side. Even if her first words are, “It’s over,” I’m still going to insist she listen to what I have to say.
I knock on the door. When it opens, my breath catches. It’s usually what happens when I see her. Tonight her hair is in a braid that hangs over one shoulder, her face free of makeup. She has on a pair of leggings, a bulky sweater, and thick fuzzy socks. I want to snatch her up, cuddle with her on the couch, and watch a movie. That’s what she inspires at this moment.
A smile is there, slightly tentative, as she says, “Hey.”
“Hey,” I reply.
“Come on in,” she says, sweeping her arm to indicate the way.
I enter, shrugging out of my coat. The Christmas snow is all slush now, but it looks like more is coming in tomorrow. Fuck if it wouldn’t be the perfect time for my wife and me to make up and spend the day in bed together.
Jaime snags my coat from me to hang up in the little closet by the door, and I hold tightly to the folder in my hand. She eyeballs it, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Want anything to drink?” she asks after hanging up my coat.
“I’m good,” I say, even though I’m struck with a sudden case of nerves and could probably stand a shot or two of whiskey.
“Want to sit down?”
“Yeah… sure,” I reply, turning to the kitchen as she starts toward the couch. I had thought the kitchen table would be more comfortable for her, putting a little barrier up during our discussion.
I’m not sure what it says she’s choosing the comfort of the couch, but I quickly pivot and follow her.
She sits on one end, turning so her back is pressed into the armrest, and crosses her legs Indian-style.
I settle onto the opposite end, but angle her way. When I place the folder on my lap, her eyes drop to it before coming back up to meet mine. They’re filled with questions.
Opening the folder, I pull out the first document—three pages stapled in the top left center. I don’t hand it to her. Instead, I hold them loosely.
“These are annulment papers,” I say.
Jaime gasps, her eyes going wide.
Before she can say anything, I rush to explain. “If you want this marriage annulled, all you have to do is sign. I’ve thought about it a lot, and you and I started our marriage in the worst of ways—with a lie between us. I really listened to what you said the other night, and how it was a complete abuse of your trust. But worse than that was the fact I didn’t have enough trust in you to be honest, and I know that probably hurt you worse than anything. So please understand, I truly heard you, and I get how you’re feeling. Therefore, these are here to sign if you want to dissolve the marriage.”
Jaime’s face pales, her eyes flitting between the papers in my hand and my face. “You just… want to annul the marriage? Go our separate ways?”
“No,” I reply firmly. “If you sign those annulment papers, I would like to start over with you. Maybe not from the very beginning, but right before Vegas. It’s really when I was going to tell you… when I knew I was in love with you and knew I had to tell you the truth.”
“Oh,” she murmurs. It’s a word of understanding, but the best I can describe her expression and tone of voice is confused.
Leaning forward, I set the paperwork on the coffee table and tap the folder, which clearly holds more documents. “I have a few more things to show you.”
Her eyes are still glued to the annulment paperwork, though, and I wait for her to give me her attention. I half expect her to lunge for it and demand a pen. Instead, her eyes come back to mine. She clears her throat. “What do you have to show me?”
I don’t ask for an invitation, but merely slide over to the middle cushion until I’m closer. Her knee brushes the edge of my thigh, and I’m stunned at how good just that obscure touch feels.
Reaching inside the folder, I pull out a photograph and hand it to her. “That’s me when I graduated from BUD/S.”
“BUD/S?” she asks curiously.
“Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL,” I say with a smile. “It’s a twenty-four-week course.”
“Then, you became a SEAL when you finished?”
I laugh. “No, I had a lot more training to do after that. I also had to complete a twenty-six-week SEAL qualification training program.”
I lean over, using my finger to point out the guys in my class, most of who I am still in close contact with. I explain the grueling, hellish things we had to go through to become SEALs, and I let her ask questions.
Reaching back into the folder, I pull out a newspaper article and hand it to her. “This is an article in my hometown paper from when I was awarded the Bronze Star.”
Jaime’s eyes widen. She takes the article, gaze roving over the words. It doesn’t provide details and I certainly can’t, but I explain what I can, “It’s for acts of heroism above the call of duty. A few others and I helped repel some anti-Iraqi forces from a field surgical hospital.”
She looks up at me, eyes filled with what I might think is pride. “I figured out you were brave when you came crashing through that window last week.”
Laughing, I pull out a few more things I grabbed to show her about my time in the military. Mostly photographs, but a few more certificates of commendation.
“You were really good at being a SEAL,” she murmurs.
“I like to think so,” I reply.
Once more, I dive back into the folder and pull out a folded-up piece of paper. I give it to her. “This is from my mother.”
Jaime had been about to grab it from me, but she snatches her hand back, cheeks turning pink. “Your mother? She knows about us?”
I nod solemnly. “I had to tell her. Had to tell her that I was in the fight of my life, trying to win you back.”
Pushing the paper toward her, I explain, “She wanted to call you, but I thought it best to wait until we see if we could straighten ourselves out. But she just can’t stay out of things, so she sent me this email and asked me to give it to you.”
Jaime hesitantly takes it from me, unfolds it delicately as if it were a bomb ready to go off. I have to suppress a laugh because once she reads it, she’ll see there’s nothing to fear from my sweet mother.
I watch as her eyes move slowly across the lines, knowing exactly what it says because I read it a few times. It’s basically my mom imploring Jaime to give me another chance. She then goes on and on and on about what a great guy I am. She even tells her a story about how I rescued a trapped kitten in a drainage ditch when I was nine, and says they don’t make men as fine as me.
At the end, she apologizes for my stupidity in lying to her and assures Jaime that’s all it was.
Stupidity.
That I don’t have a deceitful bone in my body, which really goes a little overboard. I mean, my mom is highly biased in my favor, but, in the end, I can tell Jaime is charmed by her words.
She finishes and folds the paper up, placing it on her lap rather than handing it back. I take that as a good sign.
“I have something else,” I say, then pull another piece of paper from the folder. It’s also an email I printed off, and I hesitate before handing it over. “That’s from your mom.”
Jaime’s body jerks in surprise. “My mom?”
It is with no shame whatsoever that I say, “I enlisted your mom to my cause. I told her I was coming to talk to you tonight, and I asked if there was any advice she could give me. She said she’d email me something and well… that’s what it said.”
In Jaime’s hand is her mom’s email to me, asking me for patience and perseverance when it came to pursuing her daughter. But the real reason I want Jaime to read it is that, at the end, she says something I hope Jaime will take to heart.
“I want my daughter to be happy, Cage, and if I didn’t think she could have that with you, I’d be telling her to run in the opposite direction. But I truly believe you’re the one for her, and that you and Jaime will have a long, loving, and beautiful life together. So if she decides to be a knucklehead, please don’t give up. She’s worth fighting for, and I’m sure one day she’s going to look back on this and be glad of her decision to stick with you because you’re worth it just as much.”
That got me a bit choked up when I read it, and I can see Jaime’s expression soften when she gets to the last part. Her gaze rises to meet mine, and her eyes are a little shiny.
“I have one last thing,” I say, diving back into the folder. It’s a single piece of paper, and I pass it to her.
She opens it, starting to read. It’s addressed to Kynan McGrath at Jameson Force Security.
Dear Kynan,
It is with great regret that I must tender my resignation with your company. While I have enjoyed my career with you and my fellow teammates, I am embarking on a new path with a woman whom I love very much. She’s simply more important than any career, so I know you will understand where I’m coming from.
Sincerely,
Cage R. Murdock
Jaime’s head snaps up, her eyes narrowing. “You quit your job? Why would you do that?”
“I haven’t quit,” I assure her, nodding to the letter. “But if my job is not something you can handle me doing—because it can be dangerous and requires me to travel at times—I will absolutely quit and find something more acceptable to you. Hell, I could even apply at a few car dealerships.”
I give her a dashing grin, but she doesn’t smile back.
“You are absolutely not quitting your job,” she snaps, ripping the letter in half, then quarters, then eighths before tossing it on the coffee table.
“Okay,” I reply hesitantly. I’m not sure what that means.
Then she unfurls her legs, leans over, and nabs the annulment papers. With great efficiency, she tears them in half, shoving the remnants right into my chest.
I grab at them, trying to suppress the sudden surge of joy within me at what that violent action against those papers represents.
She wants to stay married.
If only to dispel any remaining doubt, Jaime’s hands come to my face. She pulls me to her for a hard kiss that makes me see stars. When she leans back, she says, “I think I’ll stay married to you.”
“Fuck that makes me happy,” I growl, arms going around her to pull her onto me as I drop back onto the couch. She hovers over me a moment, eyes shining bright and happy, then leans down to kiss me softly. I feel it everywhere in my body, and I mean everywhere. I have no control as my hands go to her ass and press her down onto me.
Her head pops up, her eyes flash hot, and a sly grin plays at her lips. “Miss me?”
“Every fucking inch of you,” I mutter.
“Same,” she admits breathlessly. “Perhaps we should re-consummate our marriage. You know… just to make sure things are all legit.”
Laughing, I bring a hand to the back of her head and pull her down for another kiss. This one is also soft and very brief.
Because I have one more thing to say. When her mouth lifts from mine, I murmur, “I love you, Jaime. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you always know that. And I will never lie to you again.”
She hums low in her throat, a sign she appreciates my words. Slowly, she leans down again. This time, I know when the kiss starts, it’s not going to stop.
Not until we’re both thoroughly sated.
But she stops, popping back up as if a thought occurs to her. “You actually have permission to lie to me.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, brows knitting in confusion.
“When I get pregnant,” she drawls with a mischievous grin, “and I ask you if I look fat, then you are utterly free to lie and say no.”
It’s a funny statement. I should be laughing heartily, but my heart is hammering. “Pregnant? You want to get pregnant?”
She smiles, placing a hand on my chest as if to reassure me. “Not tonight. Not anytime soon, but yeah… I want kids.”
“I do, too,” I assure her. “At least two… maybe three.”
“Slow down there, Maverick.” She laughs, patting me on the chest. “Let’s enjoy some married time to ourselves first.”
Yeah… that sounds good.
“Deal,” I say. Before more words can get in the way, because I really want to fuck my wife right now, I kiss her.
Then another thought hits me, and I’m pushing her up enough so she’s forced off me. She looks startled and a little irritated as I sit up and demand, “Where’s the present I gave you on Christmas Eve? Did you open it?”
She shakes her head, her gaze going to the sideboard. I see the red box there.
Pushing off the couch, I stride over, grab the box, and bring it back to Jaime.
“Open it,” I demand.
Sitting next to her, I watch with anticipation as she rips the silver bow off and then pulls the paper away from the velvet ring box.
Slowly lifting the top, I watch her face, loving the way she gasps when she sees it.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs as she lifts the ring out. “And not what I expected.”
“You were expecting wedding bands, right?” I ask with a laugh.
Blushing, she nods. “I thought you’d try to strong-arm me that way with beautiful wedding rings.”
“Well, those are coming,” I assure her, taking the ring from her hand. “But this is something different.”
I pull her right hand up, then slip the ring onto her fourth finger. We stare down at the simple platinum band that has an infinity symbol made of diamonds that weave around the top.
“This is a promise ring,” I explain, running the tip of my finger over the diamonds. “The infinity symbol signifies that I will love you forever, and I will always be loyal to you.”
“Oh, Cage,” she murmurs, eyes now filling with tears. “It’s wonderful. I’ll never take it off.”
Grinning, I grip her by the back of the neck and draw her face in closer. “That works for me, as long as you’re willing to take off all your clothes now.”
Laughing, she gives me a swift kiss before drawing back, her hands going to the hem of her sweater to pull it off. “That I can do.”