Thirteen

Jack holds me tight, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other holding my hand against his heart. We're swaying on the dance floor to Louis Armstrong's What a Wonderful World.

The reception has just started up and we still have miles to go... the toasts, the traditional dances, and the cutting of the cake. Jack pulled me out on the dance floor for this very first song, and the only thing I can think about is leaving this reception so we can be alone.

He leans down and places his lips near my ear. At first, he just rests them there, still and soft against my skin. Then he whispers, causing the fine hair on my arms to stand up. "Let's get out of here, okay?"

I pull away and look at him. "Leave the reception? Don't you have obligations?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Not really... I mean... Carson is the Best Man. I'm just one of twelve groomsman. I mean, seriously, do you think I'll be missed?"

"I'd miss you if you left," I tell him, slightly blushing that I would admit such feelings.

The kiss he gives me in response is soft and my eyes close against his tender touch. He pulls away from me but keeps a hold of my hand, leading me off the dance floor.

I sneak a glance back into the reception room as we leave but no one is paying us any attention. My insides quiver in anticipation of spending this last night with Jack. I was afraid we'd be stuck at the reception for hours, which would cut into my dwindling time with him.

The elevator doors open to my floor and Jack just pushes me out. I turn to look at him and he's remaining inside, although his arm is holding the door open.

His grin at me is sly. "Go get dressed for outside."

"Excuse me?"

"Outside. Warm clothes. Now."

"But—"

"No 'buts'. Get your gorgeous ass dressed and meet me back down in The Great Hall."

He steps back inside and the doors close on him. Shaking my head in amusement, I hurry off to do as he bids.

In less than five minutes, I'm changed into jeans, a heavy sweater, my wool coat, and gloves. I throw my beanie on my head for good measure, although chances of it protecting me from the cold are nil.

Jack waits for me in The Great Hall. "You look great," he says, and then starts leading me to the back doors.

"What are we doing?"

"Well, it occurred to me that you really didn't get much snow time the other day, and there are so many things you're missing out on. So we have lots of snow stuff to do since this is your last day here and there is no telling when this Florida girl will see it again."

My insides warm up over his kind thoughts. Jack could have easily led me off to his bed, and I would have willingly gone with him. More than my insides warm up at the thought of the carnal things he would do to me in that bed. But the mere fact that he wants to treat me to more snow play has my heart singing.

And I fall just a little bit harder for him.

He leads me down the stone steps and out onto the lawn. There are several trees surrounding the white landscape, which are heavily strung with tiny, white lights across all the branches. It looks like a fairy tale world come to life.

"I thought about a snowball fight," Jack says, "but that would get us way too cold and wet, and I don't want to short change your time out here. I think we should build a snowman."

"Okay," I say, bemused that he has thought this through.

For the next hour, Jack teaches me the fine art of snowman building. It involves a lot of rolling and my back is killing me from being hunched over as we make the snowman's body. When we finally place the head on top, we step back to admire our work.

Cocking my head to the side, I give it a critical stare. "Something's missing."

"Hmmmm. Really? Like what?"

"Well... it's sort of faceless. I can't tell what he's thinking and that sort of creeps me out."

Jack shoots me a flash of smiling teeth. "I think I can remedy that."

I watch as he pulls from his pocket a plastic baggie that contains a carrot, two strawberries, and a handful of blueberries. "Voila. Our snowman's face."

"Where did you get those?" I'm shocked and impressed all at the same time.

He shrugs his shoulders. "I begged the concierge this afternoon if he could rustle me up some facial implements. Here... I'll let you do the honors."

I take the carrot and push it into the head. Using my fingertip to make holes, I then make a blueberry smile and finally finish the face by placing the strawberry eyes.

When we step back again to admire our work, Jack stands behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. Laying his chin on top of my head, he says, "The red strawberry eyes make it look sort of demonic."

"I know. Or maybe he just has allergies."

Jack chuckles and the sound vibrates through my body. His arms tighten around me tighter.

"Thank you, Jack," I whisper.

He turns me in his arms and brushes his lips against mine. "It's my pleasure."

His lips push against me again and I open up to him. This kiss feels like a gentle summer rain, evoking another pull against my heartstrings.

When he pulls away to look into my eyes, I know he can see the various emotions swimming there. He just stares back at me, not afraid that I'm looking at him with open honesty over how I feel. I know he can see it, but he doesn't flinch or look away.

"Can we go inside now?" I ask.

He gives me a warm smile and one more soft kiss. "Sure."

Jack is moving inside of me, slowly... ever so slowly. He's intent on dragging this out and I'm content with that as well. I concentrate on every detail I can hold in my memory. The feel of his skin under my fingertips, the way he groans in my ear when my hips meet his thrust, the hardness of his thighs under the heels of my feet as I dig into them.

I pay careful attention to his words, because Jack likes to talk during sex. His words are usually dirty, aimed with the purpose of building my excitement. But tonight... his words are more poetry than anything.

He tells me how beautiful I am and how lucky he is to have met me. He says I am the most uniquely amazing woman he has ever been with, and that he hates to leave me tomorrow.

These words give me hope... that maybe we can have something. My heart becomes even more entangled with every word he tells me and every thrust he makes into my body.

When we are finished, Jack pulls me into his arms and we lay silent for several moments. I almost expect him to say more but he seems happy just to enjoy the quiet.

I, on the other hand, feel the sands moving swiftly through the hourglass, knowing that every minute that passes by I am losing time with Jack.

Audrey told me this was only a fling. Jack told me it was only a fling. But I'm not willing to accept that and I need to know if there can be more.

"Jack?"

"Hmmmm?" He sounds sleepy.

"Do you think we could have something when you return from Afghanistan? Maybe continue to see each other?"

He doesn't respond right away and my heart starts sinking. I was foolish to hope for something more than what was being offered to me this week. I can't help the wetness that floods my eyes, and I'm happy that he can't see my face right now.

"Hope," he says tentatively, almost with the sound of dread in his voice.

"Never mind," I cut in. "It was silly. Forget I even mentioned it."

Jack pulls back from me so he can see my face and I blink rapidly, hoping to dispel the tears. "No, I won't forget it. I was going to say that yes, I could definitely see us reconnecting when I return."

An overwhelming feeling of elation courses through my body. "Really?"

Jack meets my smile. "Yes, really."

I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. Burying my face in his neck, I mumble, "That makes me so happy. And we can stay in touch the entire time you're gone. I can write you letters every day, and I'm not sure if you have access to email, but we can do that, too. And I'll send you care packages... of all your favorite stuff, and you can tell me all about your life there. Before you know it, you'll be back and—"

"Hope, wait. I need you to stop for a second." Jack pushes me back from him and the tone of his voice scares me. Jack sits up in the bed and rests his back against the headboard.

"What's wrong?"

Jack takes both of his hands and rubs them on his face. Letting out a huge sigh, he looks at me and his eyes are filled with sorrow. "I don't want to stay in touch with you when I'm gone. I don't want you writing me and I'm not going to write you."

"What?" I ask, confused by this. "But you said you wanted a relationship."

Jack lowers his gaze from mine and is silent. Without looking back up, he reaches over and takes one of my hands in his. He strokes my hand, keeping his eyes focused there.

"I don't want you waiting around for me. I might not come back and that's not fair to you."

"Isn't that for me to decide?"

He finally looks up at me and his eyes are hard. "No, it's for me to decide. I can't leave you back here worrying about me. I can't have you waiting for a man that may not come back to you. I won't let you do it."

"That's absurd," I tell him.

"No, it's not. It's life and I've seen firsthand what it's like for the girlfriends and wives that have to wait out the torture. I've seen firsthand the devastation it can cause a woman when she loses the man she loves."

"Jack... it won't—"

"No, Hope." His words are harsh and cause my mouth to snap shut. "Listen to me. I watched my best buddy head over there, and I watched his wife, Jennifer, suffer months of torturous waiting. I saw the worry on her face every time the news reported soldier deaths, and every time her phone rang, I watched dread fill her face. But most of all, I watched her crumple to the floor when she got the news the Mark was coming home in a body bag. I don't wish that on anyone and I certainly don't wish that on you."

Jack's face is awash in misery over those memories and I choose my next words carefully. "I understand all of that, Jack, and it sounds horrible... but I know I can handle this."

He leans forward in the bed and frames my face with his hands. He looks deep into my eyes, his gaze searching back and forth until he's sure he has my undivided attention. "You may be able to handle it... but I can't. I don't want to have to worry about you, too. I need my head in the game and if I worry about how you're doing, I won't be worried about my job. I'm sorry, Hope, but I mean it. I don't want any contact and I want you to go on with your life. If I come back, then more than anything, I want to see you again."

I don't know what to say to him. I think he's wrong... so very, very wrong. I don't think it's fair for him to judge what I can and cannot handle. But the thought that his worrying over me could cause him to operate at less than optimal level is like a punch in my gut.

"Please, let's not talk about this anymore tonight. I'd rather spend my time making love to you."

He leans in and kisses me, and it's filled with hunger and desperation. I give in to it, but in the back of my mind, I'm already planning to hit him with this again tomorrow before we leave. I don't believe cutting off all contact is the answer.

I crawl onto his lap and wrap my arms around his neck. "Okay, Jack. No more talking tonight. Let's just show each other how much we'll be missing while you’re gone."