The Charlotte Chronicles (Jackson Boys 1)

“Yes. Nathan, his brother, and I grew up together in Chicago.” I don’t tell her our families are almost one and that the penthouses that we called home for most of our childhood lives were connected by a hallway.

“How is it that you separated?”

“Nate joined the Navy.”

“That usually result in breakups.” She nods knowingly and the other woman joins her, like a strange silent puppet. “My daddy was career Navy. A major.” She’s very proud of her father’s rank as if that somehow elevates her. “I’ve seen it all—both the young relationships that were never going to last and the ten-year marriages done in by separation. It’s real hard. I bet you told him you didn’t want him to join.”

I bristle because this woman knows nothing about me and less than nothing about Nathan and me. I never got the chance. He left before I got back from Switzerland.

“No, I never told him anything like that.”

She purses her lips and starts applying a fresh layer, slow and measured, making sure that I’m watching every movement. “Being a SEAL is a special calling. They suffer for months, undergo physical hardships that you and I can’t begin to comprehend. Their bonds to each other are deeper than a family’s because they don’t just work together. They live each other’s lives. They are one unit, and Nate is part of that. What is it that you do?”

“I’m a fixer,” I answer. And then, deciding I’m done with the private interrogation, I move toward the door which is blocked by Patricia’s friend whose name I can’t remember. She looks past me toward Patricia but doesn’t resist when I gently push her aside. “I’m happy that you care enough about Nate to ask these questions, but there’s no need to ambush me in the bathroom. How cliché. We’re adults. If there’s something you want to know, feel free to ask, but we’re done here.”

With another small but soft shove, I clear the door and walk out, leaving a sputtering Patricia behind me. So much for placating the queen.

As I reach the end of the hallway, I see Nate across the room. He’s smiling and talking to another man. As if he senses me, his head raises and our gazes meet. Then his smile broadens as I sense Patricia and her silent friend behind me. He is clearly delighted that I’m making friends with the wife of one of his friends. I paste on a smile for him and turn to the nosy woman. “I own my own business. I help professional athletes relocate and make their trades or signings on new teams as effortless and frictionless as possible. I meet many men and women whose lives are different and extraordinary.”

She raises her eyebrows in disdain. Patricia made a judgment about me before I even entered the bar, although I’m not sure why. “Not everyone is cut out to be a SEAL’s woman.”

Casually I respond, “I suppose that’s a special calling as well?”

My retort doesn’t faze her at all.

“Yes, it is a special calling. Not every woman can handle the months of separation. As the girlfriend or even the wife, they can’t tell you where they were or what they were doing for six months at a time. They’ll leave at a moment’s notice. You have to handle your own life and his shore life by yourself. Your air conditioner breaks down? You need to fix it. You have a leak? Get to know a plumber. Your man comes home from a mission with a used condom at the bottom of his ruck sack, you just throw that shit away because his life is so fucking stressful that sometimes he needs to let loose. You don’t let that touch you, your relationship, or your kids. And you live in fear that every doorbell ring is a uniformed officer ready to share that the service of your man was honored.” Patricia’s nearly vibrating with emotion. The source of her unhappiness could be me, but I think it’s the number of used condoms she’s found at the bottom of her man’s pack. Nate was faithful to me for nine years, and we weren’t even together.

Her resentment over his fidelity and her man’s lack of it is the root of her dislike. There’s nothing I can do about that.

“I appreciate your concern, but whether I can handle being with Nate or he can handle being with me is solely our business.” I turn to walk away, but she grabs my wrist.

“In the Navy, his home life is as much the team’s business as anyone’s. Get used to it.”

I let her have the last word, and she stalks off.

Nate strolls over then and leads me out into the fresh air. I thread my shorter fingers between his and lean into his arm. “That looked like an intense conversation.”