BOBBY WAS UP FOR reenlistment and he hadn’t told her. The implications of those two pieces of information shaped the horrible, rain-drenched drive, filled with inner turmoil and confusion, far more than his confession of love.
Jennifer had always believed he’d loved her on some level, even after he left. But did he love her enough? His silence about his reenlistment seemed to confirm the answer as no. Even if his duty had come after his arrival, his silence said he still wasn’t committed enough to her, to them as a couple. And that was hard to swallow. Nevertheless, she was ready to swallow it. Ready to be done with this. No more flings. No more games.
She pulled up to her condo, the interior of the car a sopping wet mess from her clothes, and rushed to the door, the rain still coming down so hard she officially understood the saying “it was raining barrels.” She unlocked the door, to be greeted by a meowing kitty. She offered a few kitty pets and a little kitty talk, then stripped, eager for a hot shower.
An hour later, near ten already, hair dry, her face scrubbed fresh, Jennifer sat on her couch, the air cranked on high, and snuggled beneath a white down comforter. She had a cup of hot chocolate in her hand despite the season; it was like her comfort food in a mug—warm and sweet. Maybe because it reminded her of family and holidays.
Beneath the blanket, she wore pink sweatpants and a pink tank top, a bra most defiantly in place in her determination to be casually pulled together with a strong, not sexy, appeal. Okay, so maybe pink wasn’t the best way to send the strong message, but she’d changed three times and this was the best she could come up with.
Sipping her chocolate, with Julie curled in a ball at her feet, she told herself to stay angry at Bobby, to end any relationship with him tonight. Maybe if she drank enough chocolate bliss, she wouldn’t need any Bobby bliss. She sighed at the fallibility of that strategy. She fiddled with the remote, but didn’t turn on the television.
Instead, she sat there, processing, thinking. And the longer she sat on that couch, the more she saw beyond her own emotions. Bobby had been brave tonight, honorable. She didn’t know the Bobby who jumped out of planes and saved lives. Or did she? He’d been a strong, steady, dependable friend during the party when the guests had gotten out of control. Maybe he was born to be a soldier. Pride welled inside her.
“He’s trying to choose between me and the Army,” she whispered. Her hand went to her stomach, feeling suddenly queasy. He didn’t want her to know about the reenlistment in case he chose the Army. And how could she ask him to choose her? She’d seen him today—seen how he’d acted to save lives. How could anything compare? Maybe this wasn’t a fling. Maybe it was simply two people in love whose destinies couldn’t be one. Maybe rather than giving him ultimatums, she simply needed to love him while she could. To love him enough to tell him it was okay that he be who he was, that he be the soldier he’d become.
Reaching for the remote again, Jennifer hoped for something to occupy her mind, rather than sit there and think herself into some sort of insanity. At the same moment, a knock sounded on the door. She jumped and the remote went flying, her heart exploding in her chest. Julie screeched and jumped. Jennifer pressed her hand to her face. Good grief, so much for seeming together.
Jennifer threw back the blanket and rushed to the door. “Hello?”
“It’s Bobby,” he said, his voice a familiar rough sandpaper that both stroked her nerves and aroused her senses.
Jennifer opened the door to find him standing there, his clothes wet, his blond hair lying haphazardly framing his strong features, a swatch across his brow. The rain splattered around him, jumping off the awning that wasn’t enough to protect him from being any more beaten and weathered. And he did indeed look weathered and worn, tired from no sleep the night before, the expression on his face stark, as if he expected her to turn him away.
“I should never have taken you there tonight,” he admitted. “I was called to investigate the Hotzone, and I selfishly didn’t want to give up time with you. I put you in danger.”
Her heart squeezed, the need to reach for him too great to ignore. She stepped forward and forgot the rain, flinging her arms around him and holding him tight.
“You were a real-life hero tonight, Bobby,” she said, pressing her head to his chest, his heart racing against her ear. “I was proud of you.” His shirt was wet, but the warmth of his skin seeped through into hers. The strength of his arms closed around her.
“Jennifer,” he whispered, lifting her and setting her back down inside the house, kicking the door shut. “Sweetheart—”
“I don’t care about how, or why, we went to that show tonight,” she said, tilting her head up to stare at him. “I don’t even care why you came into town.”
“I swear to you, Jennifer,” he said, framing her face. “I was assigned the task after I arrived. I came for the wedding.” His voice softened. “I came for you.”
She wet her lips, her mouth and throat dry. “I believe you,” she promised. “But, Bobby…tonight I saw the soldier in you. It’s in your blood. I’m not asking you to walk away from that for me, and I know that’s what you think you have to do. But you don’t. You can’t. You have to be who, and what, you are.”
He blinked down at her, shadows flickering in the depths of his eyes, his voice whisky-rough. “You’re in my blood, Jennifer.” His mouth came down on hers, firm, strong like the man, his tongue sliding past her lips, demanding, claiming. Wild. They were wild. She was on her toes, or maybe he was lifting her. She didn’t know, didn’t care. This was the first time since his arrival that she let herself completely enjoy Bobby. Completely accepting that what they had been didn’t matter nearly as much as what they were here and now.
Her hands found the hem of his shirt, shoving the damp cotton upward. “Take it off,” she ordered.
Bobby yanked it over his head, tossing it on the floor, giving her a delicious eyeful of muscle. Her hands traced the hot flesh, and she cast him a tiny, seductive smile. “I love your soldier tough-guy abs of yours.”
“Oh, yeah?” His voice held a smile, rather than the duress, the torment, of minutes before.
“Hmm,” she concurred, her smile fading when her gaze lifted and latched on to his, the sizzle between them so much deeper than simple attraction. Heat shimmered along her nerve endings, desire pooling deep in her belly.
He picked her up, palms intimately wrapping around her backside. Her hips cradled his, his erection thick, pulsing against her. “I want you to like my body, Jennifer,” he said, his voice low, taut; he nipped her neck. “I need a shower.” He nipped her neck again, then her lips. “Care to join me?”
She curled her fingers together behind his neck. “It’s my shower,” she teased. “I most definitely get to join the hot, naked soldier in it.”
He kissed her then, a fevered frenzy coming over them, and she wasn’t sure they would make it to the shower anytime soon. All that mattered was touching, tasting, feeling.
Until a sudden pounding sounded at the door, jerking their mouths apart. Bobby murmured, “What the—?”
“Jennifer! It’s Marcie. Let me in. It’s raining!”
Jennifer’s eyes went wide, her hands resting on Bobby’s shoulders. “It’s close to midnight. Something must be wrong.”
Bobby set Jennifer down, snagging his shirt and pulling it over his head even as Jennifer jerked the door open.
The rain was coming down in buckets again, and Marcie rushed in the door, dripping wet. “Mark and I broke up,” she sobbed. “The wedding is off!”
“What?!” Jennifer exclaimed.
“The wedding isn’t off, Marcie,” Bobby said calmly. “You’re just upset.”
Marcie nodded. “It’s off. He hates me. We hate each other.” A panicked look flashed across her face as she focused on Bobby. “Uh, I didn’t know you were here. I should have known you’d be here.” She burst into tears, her teeth chattering. “Don’t worry. I’m leaving.” She turned to the door.
“No!” Jennifer and Bobby said at the same time. Bobby quickly pressed his hand to the door. “Stay. I’ll go talk to Mark.”
Marcie whirled around. “It won’t do any good. He hates me, Bobby. He hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Bobby assured her.
“He does,” she said, mascara running down her cheeks. “And I’m dripping all over your floor.”
Jennifer knew a hot-bath, glass-of-wine crisis when she saw one. “I’ll get a towel,” she said and started to turn away before adding, “And you and Mark are going to make up, Marcie. You watch and see.”
“We won’t,” Marcie insisted. “You don’t know how bad it is.”
Jennifer had a good idea. She’d seen them fighting. But she didn’t comment, not about to make matters worse.
“You’ve been trying to push him away, Marcie,” Bobby said as Jennifer walked toward the hall closet, silently agreeing with his assessment.
Jennifer started a hot bath with bubbles and then rushed back to Marcie with a big, fluffy towel in hand but stopped at the edge of the hallway as she heard what Marcie was saying.
“And you’re any better, Bobby?” Marcie demanded. “You ran away so Jennifer wouldn’t push you away when you became like your father. Well…I can’t have kids. Mark can never be a father if he marries me. I thought I could deal with that, but he’s going to resent me down the road.”
“So that’s it?” Bobby challenged. “You’re trying to make him hate you now, because you think he’ll hate you later?”
“No,” she said. “No, I… He says it doesn’t matter. But what’s he supposed to say?”
“He’d find a reason to walk away if he wanted to walk away,” Bobby replied.
Jennifer felt as if she’d been slugged in the chest. Bobby had found his reason to leave.
“Do you love him?” Bobby asked.
“Yes,” Marcie said. “I love him.”
“Then why can’t you just let him love you?”
She started bawling again. “Because I’m scared, Bobby.”
Jennifer had heard enough and rounded the corner, expecting to go to Marcie’s rescue. Instead, she found Bobby pulling a dripping-wet Marcie into his arms and hugging her, a big brother taking care of his little sister. Bobby looked up and his gaze captured Jennifer’s. “Then do what I didn’t,” he said. “Tell him you’re scared. Let him help you.”
Jennifer sucked in a shaky breath, feeling his words clear to her soul. He was talking to her. He was telling her he’d been scared. Telling her he was still scared.
“I don’t know how,” Marcie said, grabbing Bobby’s arms and pleading. “Will you talk to him? He’s so mad. I don’t know what to say, and I know you don’t know him well, but—”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“Now?” she asked hopefully.
“Yes,” he said. “Now.”
Jennifer stepped forward and wrapped Marcie in the towel. “To the bathroom and get in that hot tub. I even put some of that calming eucalyptus in the water you gave me on my birthday. I’ll bring you wine and we’ll talk.”
Marcie nodded and headed to the bath.
Bobby made sure he had Jennifer’s cell programmed properly into his phone. They stood toe to toe, the silent, unspoken words wrapping them with a mixture of hot sun and cold winter snow, too complex and textured to touch on now.
“Thank you for doing this,” Jennifer said. “I know you haven’t slept.”
“I’m not worried about sleep,” he said. “I’m worried about Marcie and Mark working this out before their wedding.”
“Yes,” she said, her hand resting on his chest. There was so much she wanted to say. “You’ll come back?”
He scooped her into his arms and kissed her. “I’m not going anywhere this time, Jennifer.” His lips brushed hers and then he was gone.
Jennifer stood there, stunned. Confused. He was leaving. He was staying. He was up for reenlistment, but obviously, clearly after today, a soldier. He wore the title well, wore it with honor.
Jennifer’s cell phone started ringing, startling her into action. She rushed forward, to the table where she’d set her purse. Marcie appeared in the hallway, still fully dressed, a hopeful look on her face that had Jennifer saying, “It’s probably Mark, worried about you.”
“Don’t answer it if it is,” she said. “He doesn’t want to marry me, he doesn’t deserve to know where I’m at.”
Jennifer blinked in confusion. “You just asked Bobby to go talk to him.”
“I know, but…” Marcie pressed her palm to her forehead. “I don’t know anymore.”
Jennifer grabbed her purse on the hall table and checked caller ID on her phone. “It’s him,” she said.
“He doesn’t want to marry me, Jen,” Marcie said, mascara dropping down her cheeks.
“He wants to marry you,” Jennifer said. “This is just cold feet before the wedding.” The phone stopped ringing.
“See!” Marcie said. “He already gave up.”
“It’s Saturday night,” Jennifer said. “And mark my words, by next Sunday night, you will be a married woman enjoying the first day of her honeymoon.” The phone started ringing again and she answered it.
“Is she there?” Mark asked, his voice steely hard.
“Yes.”
“That’s all I wanted to know,” he said and hung up.
Jennifer pulled the phone from her ear, stunned by Mark’s abruptness.
“He didn’t even ask to speak to me?” Marcie asked, her face already crinkling.
“You didn’t want to talk to him,” Jennifer said, trying to talk her way out of this. Marcie burst into tears.
It was a good while later when Jennifer managed to bundle Marcie up in silk pajamas. They sat on the bed and talked.
“Everything was perfect until we decided to get married,” she said. “Now it’s a mess.” She sipped her wine and set it on the nightstand. “If I need to stay here until I find a place, you won’t mind, right?”
“You won’t need a place to stay,” Jennifer told her, “but, of course.” She took Marcie’s hand. “It’s going to work out.”
Marcie studied her. “It didn’t for you and Bobby,” she said. “And you wanted it to. You still do. But it won’t happen. You know why? The same reason Bobby and I are friends. Because we both have enough baggage to sink a warship. We aren’t the forever kind of people. You and Mark picked wrong. There is no happy ending.”
Jennifer had a moment of clarity. She’d spent seven years looking for an ending. Bobby had run from an ending. Marcie was running from an ending. She reached out and took Marcie’s hand. “Love doesn’t have an ending,” Jennifer said. “We both need to stop trying to find one.”
She loved Bobby. She would always love Bobby. Closure didn’t mean she stopped loving him. In fact, it meant she’d stopped denying she loved him. It meant she had to figure out what kind of spot that love filled in her life.
THE RAIN HAD, AT LEAST, temporarily stopped, the moon peeking through a tunnel of clouds, but not a star could be seen. Nor was there a light to be found in Mark and Marcie’s house when Bobby pulled into the driveway and parked behind Mark’s truck. It was a bad sign. Bobby ground his teeth and climbed out of the car. Either Mark was gone, probably drinking off his troubles with the guys—trouble waiting to happen. Or Mark was in bed asleep, unaffected by his fight with Marcie—bigger trouble. As in the kind that meant the wedding was really off.
Bobby started up the stairs when Mark leaned forward in a deck chair, the moon illuminating shadowy features. “I see she sent in reinforcements,” Mark said. “Save your breath. I’m done. Marrying me is supposed to be making Marcie happy. I’ve never seen her so miserable. And don’t tell me it’s nerves. It’s more than that.”
Bobby sat down on the steps, not worried about the wet concrete, considering he had been dried and drenched several times over that day. “She thinks you hate her. She thinks you don’t want to marry her.”
“I love her, man,” he said. “I love her so much it hurts. But she can’t have babies, and she thinks that is somehow going to destroy my life. I told her we’d get a dog. Heck, if that doesn’t satisfy the paternal instinct, we’ll get a cat, too. We’ll flipping adopt, if necessary. But she can’t get over this. Or maybe she doesn’t want to get over it. I pressured her into setting a date, into putting the baby thing aside. Well, no more pressure. Like I said. I’m done. I get that I’m not important enough to her to get by this thing. That I’m not ‘the guy’ or we’d fight this battle together. I have to let her go so she can find the person who is ‘the guy.’ I love her enough to know I have to let her go so she can find that person.”
No more pressure. That was what Jennifer had said to him. Mark believed Marcie didn’t love him enough to overcome her fears. Mark planned to let Marcie go. Just as Jennifer planned to let him go, unless Bobby convinced her otherwise.