“Your phone is off, and you were unavailable. According to section—”
I cut him off. “What is it?”
“You need to come in ASAP.”
Of course I do. “I’m on shore leave.”
“Not anymore, Chief.”
He apparently isn’t leaving until I go with him. Charlotte presses her lips together and disappears into the bedroom. Inside she is throwing my clothes into a case. There are a million things I want to do right now and none of them include leaving her. Throwing the LT out the window is one. Slamming the suitcase shut and shoving it in the back of the hotel closet is another. Tossing her onto the bed and ramming myself into the wet heat of her body is on the top of the list.
Leaving is way down on the bottom. It’s not even on the list.
Charlotte can read every sad and sorry thought. “Even if you wanted to quit, you’d still have this mission or training exercise or super secret adventure, so you have to go.”
I don’t want her to be right, so I keep my mouth shut.
She runs over to the desk and pulls out The Drake Hotel stationery and shoves it into the suitcase. “You write me every night, no matter what, and it’ll be just like you were here.”
Grabbing my robe lapels, she pulls me down and plants a bruising kiss on my lips. The force of her kiss is the first—and maybe only—indication she’s not happy.
“I can’t send mail all the time.”
“Save them up and send them when you can.” She throws underwear and then jeans and then a T-shirt at me. I catch them and start dressing.
“I didn’t write before in part because I’ve got zip to say. I’m shit at writing.”
“This isn’t for me, it’s for you, babe.”
I pause in zipping up my jeans and watch her as she dresses. Delicate blue and white polka dotted panties and matching bra are quickly covered by a slouchy silk blouse in a navy blue trimmed with white over a pencil thin pair of navy pants that stop around her calves. “How so?”
“You feel guilty leaving me, right?”
“Right.”
Guilty and mad. She pulls out her hair from the back of her shirt and attacks it with a brush. I’ve gotten so little time with her, I think, I can’t leave now. All these little intimacies that I’m getting acquainted with are being taken away, and I want to howl like a toddler at the unfairness of it.
“I need to be here with you,” I argue. “You’re just starting treatment.”
“There’s nothing you can do here but hold my hand. I’ve got a lot of people to do that. I have only one Nathan who owes me a shit ton of letters. Write me all those letters you owed me during the nine years we were separated.”
The reminder of my delinquency makes me wince. “I’m supposed to be your shield.”
“You are,” she says patiently. “You’re merely going to be farther away. Writing me every night will be doing something for me. I’ll look forward to getting your letters, and eventually you’ll think of me reading them and we’ll be connected.”
“It’s not the same thing.” Shit, am I whining? I think I am.
“It will mean a lot to me.” She zips my suitcase shut and then pulls it off the bed. Her struggle with the luggage rouses me out of my stupor, and I rush over to take it from her. I push my feet into my boots and heft the case in my hand.
“Writing a few words every night?” Color me skeptical.
“Yes. Every night. Consider it your homework assignment.”
Our argument, if we even had one, is over and I’ve lost. She’s pushing me out the door with one hand, and the Navy is pulling me with the other. Resigned, I grab her before she walks out the door. I don’t want our last moments to be morose. “I’m only doing this if we get to play teacher/student when I get back.”
She smirks. “I have no problem slapping your fingers with a ruler.”
“I was thinking of being the teacher, but if you want to dress up in a pencil skirt and have me nail you against a desk, I’m for that too.”
She places a palm against my cheek. “You come back to me safe and sound, and we’ll play out any fantasy you’d like.”
I capture her mouth. The LT can cool his heels until I kiss my woman goodbye. I pour everything I have into the kiss, and she gives it back a hundred fold until we are left gasping and clutching each other.
My forehead meets hers, and we rest against each other trying to catch our breaths. “I am your shield, your weapon. Fight for me too, Charlotte.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and buries her face into my chest. Through the thin fabric of my shirt, I feel the wetness of her tears dampen the cotton. “Our love will never die.”