Smith’s truck isn’t in the driveway when I pull in. I cry some more and beat on my horn like a maniac. The radio blares some news about an impostor attack at the White House. The perpetrator didn’t get close, of course, but it’s still a suicide vest with intent to kill. I cry some more for the state of affairs that ripped my life apart. Pretending isn’t an option anymore. I exit my car with a face full of wet mascara and my oversized bag full of mace and empty notebooks.
The second I push open the door, I smell him. Smith was here, and the tragedy of that forces a pit in my stomach that powers me to a toilet to be sick. The house is warmer somehow. Complete. And he’s already gone. I can’t ask him anything. Or talk to him about how he’s doing. I can’t tell him about Roarke or Sean or show him my new hair color. Truthfully, it’s as if a stranger passed through my home while I was out.
I open the door to the room where he keeps his gear. A few large Tupperware boxes have been shifted. I close the door quickly and head straight for my marker board to write down the title of the book. I know without a doubt what suits it best. With shaky hands and a red Expo Marker, I tell the world, and myself, too, what this story will be. After I write it down on the board, I sit down to open my laptop to email it to Jasmine. It’s ready.I’m ready for her to see my scars. I’m ready for her to sell them to the highest bidder.
That’s when I see the letter. It’s one page, written in Smith’s neat scrawl on a piece of computer paper. It’s not folded. It’s sitting on my keyboard, sandwiched by the screen and the keyboard. “What have you done?” I ask him, as I glance over his words.
My beautiful, sweet, kind Care,
I missed you. I walked into an empty house that felt like you. Missing you has been painful, but feeling you and smelling you and not seeing you is heartbreaking. I don’t have a lot of time as I’m headed out again, but I need to tell you a few things.
I haven’t contacted you because I needed space. You consumed me so wholly that I wasn’t sure who I was anymore. It sounds like a pretext, but given my circumstance, it bears more weight than the average man giving that excuse. Don’t get me wrong, I love you so fully that I can’t imagine the world without you in it, but I feel I may have taken advantage of our friendship by pursuing more.
I’m not calling you weak, or saying I have some superhero powers of persuasion, because I know that what you felt for me is real.
Our love is real.
Something changed when the new 9/11 happened, while I was wondering if you were alive, dead, or otherwiseharmed. I stopped breathing. I made deals with God. Nothing in this world made sense if you weren’t going to be by my side. It’s so selfish. It’s wrong. All my life my goal was to be a SEAL. Loving you detracted from that goal, I’ve realized. Loving you changed me completely. Loving you is painful. It’s truth. It’s lies. It’s the past. It’s my future. Loving you is always.
Loving you is immoral, Carina. Because long before I loved you, I promised my love to someone else. It wasn’t coerced. I gave it freely and of pure heart, entirely. Megan needs me now more than ever. If I’ve learned anything about the fickle, trivial things of life, it’s that you need to honor your commitments. What else can you do? How else is a man formed except by his word?
When I proposed to Megan, I got down on one knee and asked her to marry me. I told her I would be there for her until the last sunset and the moon refused to rise. I told her I would be her rock in any storm of life—her protector, her guardian, her provider. Most men say these things during their wedding vows. I promised them when I proposed.
Do you know how horrible it makes me feel? Because of how it must make you feel? You’re not second best. You’re not runner-up. You’re the love of my life.
None of that matters. Sometimes men must sacrifice for the greater good. Sometimes men must sacrifice for honor. I must sacrifice because I can’t in good conscience love you so fiercely and turn a blind eye to my pastpromises. It would make what we had less. And it’s not less. Quite the contrary. Care, you are everything.
From this moment forth, you’ll be that gentle sunlight that wakes me on a weekend morning. That first scent of fall when the air begins to cool. The smile on my face when I see a couple lounging in the park. You’ll be the wind in my hair when I jump out of an airplane. The stars in the sky as I fall asleep at night. You’ll be that soft second beat of my heart every other moment. The fog during a morning run. Your name will be the first thing I think when I wake up and the very last thing I mouth before I fall asleep.
Please know that nothing could change this, and it really has nothing to do with you. This was the decision I was always destined to make when the time arose. Some may say it’s not fair to Megan to give her the pieces you didn’t claim in her absence, but I know you’ll understand I have to try. I have to make it right in her eyes. I have to honor my word. I have to work to convince her of these things.
I know you’ll be more than okay because of how amazing you are. The things you’ve overcome don’t define you, they add to your charm—your backbone. I hope one day I can look at you and not feel everything. I hope one day I can think of your face without wanting to curl into myself and die of longing. Mostly I hope you can move on with your life without a backward glance in my direction. If you love me, you will. As soon as youcan. It’s my plea. My dying wish.
I’ll long for you always. I’ll love you even though I shouldn’t.
I remembered. And it changed everything and nothing at the same time.
Yours always,
S
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Carina
It seemed soconvoluted and complicated at first glance. Given our difficult histories, it was hard to come to terms with how it truly boiled down to something so simplistic—honor. Smith’s honor. I wouldn’t love him as fiercely if he didn’t have it. I think it’s the single most appealing quality in a man because so few actually have it. It’s poetic because that’s what stole him away from me. I’m trying to move on as Smith asked, but it’s been slow going for various reasons.
Sean kisses like a wet dog after a swim in a pool. I broke things off with him before they evolved into anything more than friends who kiss. He was upset, and in turn it made Jasmine upset. She forgave me when I wrote her a detailed scene of me kissing her brother. I think the words she used were “utterly disgusting.” It’s not easy going into the dating world knowing no one will ever stack up tohim. Not ever. Not even close.
I haven’t heard from anyone in Smith’s life since the letter either. I can’t bring myself to contact Moose or Megan. Thejagged wound he left in my heart is still raw and bleeding. I’m still trying to figure out how you can love a person too much, because that’s what his words boiled down to.
It’s been several weeks since I read the letter that changed everything. “Come here, Poppet,” I say, then click my tongue. The solid white juvenile kitten jumps into my lap. Moments after I finished reading Smith’s words, I heard a tiny meow from the hallway. Smith broke my heart and left the white kitten to mend it. I hated Poppet and loved her in equal measure for a long time. My overall desire for this cat won out in the end, and now she is basically the most important thing in my life. She has a red-and-white striped collar that reminds me of a peppermint stick. She licks my face and pounces on my feet anytime they’re under a blanket.
“I’m three months away from becoming Bridget Jones, Teala,” I say into the receiver of my phone. “Can I come over tonight?” I ask.
“Are you bringing Poppet again? Last time she chewed the handle of my Louis Vuitton, and who knows when I can get it fixed.” The mail is still incredibly slow. Mailing the handbag in for repair isn’t an option. I checked into it after my sweet girl teethed on my friend’s bag. “Macs is here right now. Give me an hour or two.” She giggles. I close my eyes at the sound of her happiness. Macs is a SEAL Moose introduced her to when their date didn’t go as planned.
I clear my throat.
