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“You are?” That was not what she was expecting! “Again?”
“Yes. I think we need to talk, and probably should do so face to face…”
“About what?”
“Us.”
“Eric, is something wrong… with us?”
“That’s just it,” he said quietly, and she heard him take a deep breath, immediately bracing herself for the emotional barrage that was going to either lift her up or knock her flat to the ground. “I think we need to talk in person and define what this is going to look like in a year from now, because I’m having a very clear picture in my mind of…”
“Yes,” she whispered painfully. “We should talk, because I don’t know if you like sweets, salty stuff, what size shirt you wear, and…”
“I know… it’s the same for me. I didn’t know if you liked red roses, peonies, day lilies, or carnations, and I want to be able to send my wife some flowers for our anniversaries, dang it.”
Plural.
He said anniversaries.
Her heart leapt in her chest as she let out a small sob, clutching her phone.
“Eric, I want to know what shirt size you wear,” she whispered tearfully. “I want to know if you like soap or shower gel, and how you take your coffee. Are you a cake or ice cream guy… or… I want to know when it’s your birthday,” she sobbed, wiping her eyes and sniffing.
“My birthday is in June,” he rasped emotionally. “When’s yours?”
“December.”
“And our boy?”
“February.”
“Good to know. I should probably put that information down somewhere, so I know the exact dates that I want to be home to celebrate with my family,” he choked out and hesitated. “Madison, I want us to spend a week together, getting to know each other, and seeing if this is what I think it is. I hate email and all the waiting. I want to hear your voice and see your smile.”
“I want that too.”
“So, you’re okay with me coming… home?”
“Yeah,” she laughed tearfully. “I’m more than okay. We’ll play house for a week and see how this goes.”
“No more of this ‘only friends’ crap?” he uttered. “Sorry, it slipped, and I want to watch my mouth around Max. I don’t need him picking up some of thestuffwe say in the barracks.”
“It’s accurate,” she smiled, touched.
“Got a court date yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay. My timer is already counting down. I’ll send you my flight information and we’ll tackle this together.”
“I’m glad.”
“Me too.”
“Bye, M&M…” he chuckled throatily… and she loved it.
“Bye Eric,” she breathed, but the line was already dead.
Looking at her phone, she saw there was already an email forwarded from him with his flight information.
