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“You know it’s mutual, right? You may tease him mercilessly, but I’m over the top in love with him, too.”
“Oh, yeah, but he’s also fucking whacked out of his mind. This weekend he’ll probably shadow your every move.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Whatever, back to this Liza chick. When I say I don’t trust her, it’s because she obviously doesn’t know who she’s dealing with. Next time you head over to Norfolk, either I’m going with you or we’re going in with a plan of attack. She sounds like a poora cadela.”
“She may be a fucking bitch, but seriously, she’s stunning.”
“She’s also a dumbass… better yet, a blind dumbass.”
The jealousy starts to disappear. Quinn and Nate are right. I can’t let her get to me.
“Okay, now, we have a wedding to talk about.”
“We want to get married next summer.”
“Finally! We have a season!”
“You knew it was probably next summer.”
“Yes, but you wouldn’t commit. I was beginning to think you wanted to be a winter bride.”
I let out a loud breath and swallow the lump forming in my throat. My hands clutch the steering wheel tightly, trying to ignore the squeezing in my heart.
“I didn’t have a choice. Well, that’s not true; I had a choice but not one I wanted to take.” My voice quivers, and she immediately picks up on it.
“Dev, what’s wrong?”
Bryce’s face flashes in my mind. The look of pain when I told him what I was dreaming about for our wedding.
“I’m thinking about a winter destination wedding in Aspen. It seems appropriate, don’t you think?” I lift up and brace my elbow, drawing a random pattern on his chest with my other hand. My legs tangle with his. “Next Christmas break would be the best time since I’ll have so much time off. I know you won’t have your schedule, but even if you only get four days, we’ll get married and go on a honeymoon later.”
My voice trails off when I notice the twist of agony on his face. His eyes are glued to the ceiling but slowly drop down to meet mine. Devastation and pain own his expression.
“Baby, I’d give anything to give you a dream wedding in Aspen. But it can’t be next Christmas.”
The look on his face tells me what he’s saying. He’ll be deployed.
I give a half hiccup- half cry. “W-w-when?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“H-h-how long?” The stutter turns into a sob, and I fall into his chest.
“We don’t know that either.”
“Bryce, it’s only October. How the hell can you know you’ll be gone next Christmas? That’s fourteen months from now!”
“We don’t know anything yet, but there are talks of us going out late next July. Possibly for five months, maybe six. We can’t plan a wedding not knowing if I’ll be here.”
His arms tighten, and I sob harder. After a few minutes, I force myself to calm down and move out of his arms. I rub my eyes and sit up; he braces against the headboard and positions me between his legs.
“Jesus, please stop.”
Guilt floods me. He is crushed when I cry. I may be upset, but it physically hurts him. “I’m sorry.”
“If you have your heart set on a winter wedding, we can wait until the next year.”
