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I don’t like that answer. “No, or not really? Those are two different things,” I reply, my voice a little harder than I want it to be. Calm the fuck down, man.
“No,” she says, lifting her chin again. I realize she’s doing that to try to make sure I don’t see through the shield she’s keeping in place. “I’ve been focusing my attention on my career.”
I nod, taking her in. God, it’s been way too long. Once I had her, no one else would do. No one else would ever compare to her. Getting back to her was my ultimate goal, and it was a hardship to finish out what was expected of me.
“I see that. Took me by surprise when I saw you in the uniform.”
“You didn’t seem surprised.” She bites her lip and sets her gun on her dresser. “I’ve worked hard to get where I am. I was…lost when you left me in Vegas.”
I shake my head and remember the look on her face. “That was the last thing I wanted to do, I swear to you. I didn’t have a choice.”
“I know.” Margaret pushes her hair out of her face, resting her hands on the top of her head. “I know you didn’t have a choice, but…” She blows out a breath. “I didn’t think that was how it would end.”
“That’s not how it ends.” I take a step in her direction, but she tenses, so I pause my footsteps. I hate that she doesn’t want me near her.
“God, you didn’t talk to me for two years!” Her voice reaches a hysteria I’ve only ever heard once before.
“You didn’t get my letters?” It was the best I could do under the circumstances.
“Oh, you mean these?” Her sarcastic question distracts me for a moment as she rushes to the dresser against the wall and grabs some crumpled pieces of paper. They look as if they’ve been rolled into balls and flattened a hundred times. “Dear Mo.” She starts reading, and I rest my hands on my hips and sigh. “This isn’t much, but I’m okay. L.” Her eyes glow with a savage inner fire, and she flips to the next page. “Dear Mo, I hope you are doing okay. I know this isn’t how we wanted everything to go, but I’m doing my best. L.”
I grimace at the lack of communication I was able to get to her, but I couldn’t put specifics in the letters. If I had, someone could have easily gotten hold of it.
“Dear Mo.” Her voice catches and I look up at her, seeing her face lose the carefully placed mask, showing a hint of vulnerability, showing me she still cares far more than she wants me to know. “I can’t wait for our life. L.” Finally, her head comes up, and she looks at me like I’m the worst person she’s ever laid eyes on. It breaks my damn heart. “Three letters in two years…that’s all I got.”
“I’m here now,” I say, a slight tremor in my voice. I hate that I couldn’t do more. I hate myself for hurting her.
“Well, I don’t know if that’s enough.” Her soft, hoarse voice breaks something in me, and I steel my spine, ready for her to tell me to get lost, ready for the blow I know is coming, the one I know I deserve.
“I’ll do anything to make you trust me.” I harden my voice and look into her eyes, searching for a small bit of hope, anything to hold on to.
“I don’t know how to do that.”
Nodding, I rest my hands in the loops on my jeans and think about how to approach it. An idea hits me and I ask, “You hungry?”
Hesitating, she glances down at the wrinkled papers in her hands and smooths the edge of one. When I catch her eyes again, they’re clear and her wall is back up, but she just says, “Gotta change first.”
I bite my tongue at the remark about loving a woman in uniform and nod before wandering out into the living room, taking in the space that is all Margaret: bright colors, books on every surface, and clean. I imagine her in this room, relaxing on the couch and watching TV after a long day, and I want to join that fantasy. I want to be the man she comes home to, the one she can tell everything.
Margaret is the game changer, and I plan on winning.
