Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“So this is all we get?” She threw her arms out. “Moments that we have to carve out, never actually able to share our lives?”
“The sky is cloudless. That water is crystal clear. And you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Isabeau. If this is all we get, then it’s pretty great.”
She took a shaky breath. “I know I told you that I’d rather spend a week with you than forever with him.”
I held my breath.
“But I’m not going to wait around forever, Nate. There’s going to come a moment where we either have to take our shot or we let each other go.”
“I know.” That knowledge haunted me more than the nightmares.
“Because it’s not like you and I could ever be just friends.”
“I know.”
“Maybe you could,” she said, kicking at the ankle-deep water. “But I can’t. Not now that I know what it feels like to have you. I’ll never be able to look at you and not want you.”
Even the small amount of distance between us now was killing me. “It’s the same for me.”
Her shoulders dipped, and she threw her head back at the sky. “Why is our timing always shit?”
“Because nothing worth having is easy.”
“Just . . . promise me you’ll think about it while we’re here, okay?” She looked back at me. “Think about what it could be like if we became more than a possibility.”
“Yeah. I can do that.” I thought about it more than she knew and always came to the same conclusion, but it was impossible to deny her request.
Her answering smile was worth it. “We have the week. So get over here and kiss me in the water like I’ve been dreaming about, Nathaniel Phelan.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
IZZY
Kandahar, Afghanistan
August 2021
I shifted in my sleep, rolling to my back. The pillow beneath my head was warm, but the fabric of the pillowcase abraded the base of my neck. But the scent—metal and spearmint mixed with something warmer—made me sigh with recognition.
My mind acknowledged the dream—it always did—but I clung to it, willing myself to fall more deeply asleep so I wouldn’t lose it.
Fingers gently stroked down my cheek, and I leaned into the caress.
“Wake up, Isabeau.” His voice wrapped around me like velvet, just like it did every morning in Fiji when he’d woken me with his hands and mouth, rousing my body to a fever pitch before sliding into me and bringing us both home.
“I don’t want to,” I mumbled. Waking would mean he’d be gone, that I’d have to face another day of wondering where he was.
“You have to,” he said softly. “It’s almost time to go.”
“You’re always going.” I angled my head more comfortably and let my breathing deepen again, slipping back into sleep. “Ever considered staying?”
“Too many times to count.” Fingers brushed through my hair. “But we can’t stay here. We have to go.”
This wasn’t what I wanted to dream. I wanted to go back to my apartment in New York. Wanted to open the door and find him standing there. Wanted to take back everything I’d said and do it all differently.
“Izzy.” His voice was still soft, but more insistent.
I forced my eyes open and was rewarded by the sight of him looking down at me. God, there was nothing better than waking up to those eyes, that mouth, even if it was set in a firm line. “Not all of us prefer the sunrise, Nathaniel.”
A corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk, and my pulse jumped, bringing me fully awake. I wanted to kiss that mouth, to lose myself in him, to feel that sweet oblivion that only Nate brought me. “You might not like the sunrise, but I doubt you want to spend another night on the airport floor if we miss our extraction.”
I blinked, and it all came rushing back.
We were in Kandahar, and that scratchy fabric was the material of Nate’s camouflage pants. Either I’d fallen asleep with my head in his lap, or he’d moved me here, where he’d sat back against the wall. Every beat of my heart begged me to stay put, to soak in every moment that he looked at me without the cool aloof apathy he’d dished out for the last week. Without the armor of my own anger, I couldn’t blame him for keeping me at a distance. It wasn’t in Nate’s nature to let anyone in, and when push came to shove, I’d let him down when he’d needed me most. We both bore our share of the responsibility for what happened in New York. “Do you know that this is the longest amount of time we’ve spent together?”
His brow knit. “Almost. Fiji was nine days with the flights. We’re only on day eight.”
“I liked Fiji better. No one was shooting at us.”