Probably the same way that guy stripped his dead comrade, traded uniforms with him and walked up to the enemy asking to be one of them. You dealt with it by processing the situation and doing what you had to do.
Clearly, when it came to Emily’s child, he was going to have to do something.
Keeping in mind that he couldn’t be the husband she needed, or the father his child needed. That if she knew the complete truth, she’d know that he’d made their only-each-other-as-lovers-for-our-whole-lives thing impossible. The ultimate proof that their love hadn’t been strong enough to save them.
He was still hoping to get them out of the past and into a future where he could do his job and she could have a happy life, without completely obliterating her belief in love and happily-ever-after. She was young. Could still have that dream with someone else. He didn’t ever want her to know the full extent of what he’d done.
She was on a need-to-know basis, and she didn’t need to know.
He called her on the way home from the base late Wednesday afternoon. They hadn’t spoken since parting ways with a quick goodbye in the clinic parking lot that morning. He’d worked out for a couple of hours, driven out to Coronado to watch SEAL training, and then stopped in to chat with the counselor who still wasn’t giving him anything good to work with.
Emily’s phone hit the fifth ring before she picked up.
“You on your way home?” he asked her straight off.
“Not yet. I’m getting ready to leave shortly.”
“I was thinking maybe we’d have dinner out.” He named a fine dining place he’d seen on a cliff overlooking the ocean just a few miles from her house. It was new since he’d left Marie Cove for ground training.
“Why?” Her suspicious tone wasn’t all bad. It indicated to him that she was progressing as the plan required. As he’d known she would.
Realizing that he wasn’t the man who’d married her.
He didn’t have to like the job. He just had to get it done.
“I want to,” he told her. It was true. He also needed to speak with her with the buffer of others around them who’d necessitate remaining focused on fact, not feeling. Even Emily didn’t get emotionally deep out in public. “I’ve never been there,” he added into her silence. “I’m curious about it.”
He was doing an awful lot of explaining for a simple suggestion. Noted.
“I’ve never been, either, and...okay, yes, I’d like to go with you.”
She’d never been. Shouldn’t matter to him one way or the other. He was bothered that it seemed to matter. That he was pleased.
He wanted a planning session, not memory-building here.
Goal in mind, he headed back to the house to wait for her.
Chapter Fifteen
“We need to talk.” They hadn’t even had their salads yet. Emily had warned herself not to read anything into the surprising dinner invitation. Still she hadn’t been able to stop hoping that it could be a celebration of having heard their baby’s heartbeat for the first time that morning.
But “we need to talk”? Everyone knew nothing good came out of that one.
She hadn’t bothered changing from the black pants and white blouse she’d worn to work, though he’d offered to wait while she changed. Hadn’t let herself create any moments to remember, sitting in his car as he drove to the restaurant she’d told herself she’d never visit without him. “Can we wait until after dinner?” she asked. They’d ordered. Their food was being prepared. Filet mignon for both of them. Because...maybe she had been trying to have a bit of a celebration. Something they’d look back on in the future as a good moment during a difficult time. Something to put in the baby book.
“I need to eat,” she said, not caring if she was pulling the baby card. She wasn’t going to suddenly fall ill without a meal. And she could have a salad at home. Enough to sustain her and the baby until morning. But she wanted this dinner, here with him, even if it didn’t mean wh
at she’d hoped it would.
With a nod, he pulled his napkin from the table and put it over his khakis. Used to be Winston made a point to never wear his uniform anywhere personal. It had been a clear distinction for him.
There was a message in there for her. She’d been getting it. Slowly but surely.
Because they had to fill the silence, or they might as well be having “the talk,” she rambled on a bit about her day. A new client she’d been courting for months had just signed. She asked Winston about his workouts. In detail. She used to know how much weight he was pressing. How many miles he ran. The ease with which he shared the answers to her questions had her wondering if maybe she was the one who’d been at the root of the distance between them. At least somewhat. She’d been told to give him time. Which she’d taken to mean to leave him alone, not question him for fear of pushing him into a corner.
Maybe all she’d needed to do was show interest in the little things? Like she used to do?
Their steaks were delivered, cooked to perfection. The view of lights bobbing far out in the darkness beyond the window, the dimly lit room, cloth table covers and well-dressed patrons were all perfection. She wanted to remember every detail. In honor of a healthy heartbeat. And sharing it with Winston.