Just because he was laid-back and loping through life didn't mean he wasn't very aware and always planning. She could learn more than a few things from this wise and oh-so-funny man she'd married. "I really do love you, Jack."
"I know."
And she saw that he did. She'd been given the gift of his love, but she'd also won his trust.
A planeload of people waited behind them. Still she couldn't stop herself from taking a few more seconds to savor the moment. She glided her hands over his bristly face full of hard angles, strength and sun-bronzed laugh lines. Exhaustion carved a few extra creases around his eyes, reminding her he was her patient as well as her husband today.
"Okay, flyboy, as your doctor and your concerned wife, I'm telling you it's time for you to get in that plane and take a load off. You've been up for over twenty-four hours. Fought in a war. And been shot in the ass." She jabbed a finger toward the load ramp. "Move it."
He hooked an arm over her shoulders again, making his way toward the open load ramp. "God, I love it when you get bossy."
She wasn't sure if his leaning came from a need for support or a need to touch her. Either way, she wasn't complaining, not even when he grew heavier during the last few steps. "I'm not bossy. Just assertive."
"Uh-huh. Whatever you want, I'm game."
She pinched his side just as they reached the aircraft. "Zipper-suited sky gods and their egos."
"Mouthy and bossy." His boots thundered on the base of the metal ramp. "Babe, you're turning me inside out."
"Get used to it, flyboy," she whispered in his ear. "I've got ideas for what we can do in those retirement rocking chairs."
"Anything. Anywhere. Anytime. I'm your man."
Epilogue
Five minutes more and he could peel off his flight suit.
Jack hauled his weary body down the long corridor of the Warrior Inn toward his VOQ room at Nellis AFB, debrief for his flight completed before sundown. What a way to spend his one-year wedding anniversary. TDY alone in Vegas. Monica TDY elsewhere. But that was military life. They would just have a helluva celebration in Charleston in a couple of days.
Making tracks through the crew dogs packing the halls, Jack smiled, tossed nods, turned down invitations to head out to eat. He only wanted to find his bed and the telephone so he could call his wife.
He angled sideways around a cleaning cart, eyeing his door and already thinking up at least eleven different ways to romance Monica over the phone. Life was good.
"Sir," the uniformed maid called, steadying a tottering pile of towels, "I went ahead and let your wife into your room. I hope that was all right."
Wife? In his room? Life was about to get a helluva lot better. Anticipation punted exhaustion clean away. "Absolutely all right. Thanks!"
His double-timed steps thundered down the carpeted hall. A swipe of his key card and he swung the door wide to find, oh, yeah—his wife.
Major Monica Hyatt Korba reclined on his bed in her flight suit, her sock-clad feet crossed at the ankles. Crooked in the corner of her arm, she held his box of Froot Loops. "I hope the King's not too tired for a chorus of 'Are You Lonesome Tonight' followed by breakfast in bed."
"The King's very ready to step up to the mike for a performance. And more than one encore." Kicking the door closed, Jack sprinted across the room and fell on top of her. The bounce of the bed launched the cereal box and rained Froot Loops around them.
He captured her mouth with his. Breakfast at night never tasted better.
Caramel hair swirled around her shoulders, waves crimping it from hours spent restrained in a
French braid. His fingers combed through, couldn't get enough of the silkiness or the woman. "God, Monica," he groaned, rolling to his side, sweeping back her hair and enjoying the vision of her in his bed. "I can't believe you're here."
"It took some wrangling, but I worked it." She nipped his bottom lip, her eyes fluttering open to peer at him with emerald intensity. "I wanted us to have time alone together before all the family comes in this weekend for the baptism."
Quiet settled between them. Jack tucked her closer, brushed another kiss over her forehead, giving her the silent moment of comfort he knew she needed. Coming to grips with Sydney's capture had been an ongoing process for all three of the sisters, but they were women of grit. Perseverance. Slowly, healing came for all of them.
After a couple months of soul searching, Sydney decided for sure on adoption—an open adoption with Daniel "Crusty" Baker and his wife. Sydney and Blake had spent the last weeks of Sydney's pregnancy in Charleston with Monica so she could be on hand to assist with the delivery. Family pulling together. Finally, Sydney found peace in knowing her baby girl was being welcomed with undiluted joy by a couple who yearned for a child to cherish along with Crusty's two young half brothers.
Now Sydney and Blake were both ready to move forward with their lives. A few more months and they would be celebrating their first anniversary, as well, in a rock-solid marriage. Sydney was back at work, but staying stateside for a while. Maybe permanently, now fighting her battles by slicing through red tape and political channels with a newfound fiery strength that had people listening—and even opening their wallets at fund-raisers. Her new favorite project was the Pete Santuci scholarship fund, her heart touched by Yasmine and Monica's story of the young man who'd given his life to save her.
"Jack?" Monica stroked aside the hair on his brow, damp from hours under his headset.