know.” Melancholy tinged her voice.
“Then why were you asking?”
“I don’t know, I just…” She inhaled and I knew I was about to get a dose of my wife’s special kind of reasoning. “These past few weeks have been perfect. Being with you, being together, being us . I couldn’t have dreamed a better life.” Her eyebrows drew together. “It’s too perfect. I don’t want to add the wrong ingredient and mess everything up…or lose this.”
I knew she was traumatized from everything she’d been through and I would respect that but I also wasn’t going to let her constantly second-guess everything. “It’s not too perfect. This is us. This is our life. We promised each other we’d always communicate. We love each other, we respect each other, we work shit out. That’s how it works. There are going to be hurdles—life isn’t a smooth ride—but at some point, you’re going to have to let go of your past and live in the present.”
“How?” she asked quietly.
For two months, I’d tracked her periods and carefully avoided coming inside her when I knew the timing was ripe for her to get pregnant. She’d gone off the pill when we’d gotten married but I knew she hadn’t been ready. She’d needed time to heal from the tubular pregnancy that’d almost taken her life. She also needed time to get used to being a wife, to adjust to being around another person. She’d been alone and on her own for years. As much as I wanted her carrying my child, I didn’t want to throw her into motherhood yet. We’d lived through my disastrous mistake of not taking it slow the first time and I wasn’t willing to risk her life or her emotional well-being again. But the woman in front of me now wasn’t the same woman I’d married. She was still my Layna, feisty and a fighter and loving. But she was also content and grounded and I could tell she was ready for something more.
I ran a finger just under the edge of her hat and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “We have a baby.”
“You’re ready?” she asked hesitantly.
I smiled. “Yes.”
A tear fell down her cheek and she brushed it away. “Blaze Johnson,” she accused with a smile. “You are not allowed to make me cry.”
I leaned in and whispered, “I’m the only one who’s allowed to make you cry. And beg. And moan. And come so hard you forget your name.”
She laughed and pushed me back. “I thought we were supposed to be talking about going home.”
“We are. There are better medical services stateside for having a baby.”
She shook her head but she was still smiling. She smiled a lot now. “So you do want to go home?”
I wanted to spend every waking minute inside of her. I wanted to spend my life making her smile. But I was also antsy. I didn’t miss a fucking thing about active duty or being in a war zone besides the camaraderie. But I did need something that gave me an adrenaline rush besides fucking my wife multiple times every day or I’d break her. Or worse, she’d get sick of me. “I need to work.”
“With André?”
I nodded. When I’d talked to André last week, he hadn’t given me the all details yet on what happened after we’d left. He said he’d fill me in when we got back but he did mention a new assignment he needed help on.
She took a breath and let it out slow. “Technically, you don’t need to work.”
“Not having this conversation,” I warned.
“I know, I know, you’re not a kept man and all that bullshit. But you do realize it’s not my money now—it’s our money.”
Yes, I knew. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” She’d put my name on all her accounts the second we’d gotten married and she’d drawn up a will leaving me everything in case something ever happened to her. “Who gives a war-hardened Marine access to millions?”
“His wife.” She snuggled into me again and her hand made slow circles over my stomach. “Besides, maybe I was hoping you’d blow through
“Then why were you asking?”
“I don’t know, I just…” She inhaled and I knew I was about to get a dose of my wife’s special kind of reasoning. “These past few weeks have been perfect. Being with you, being together, being us . I couldn’t have dreamed a better life.” Her eyebrows drew together. “It’s too perfect. I don’t want to add the wrong ingredient and mess everything up…or lose this.”
I knew she was traumatized from everything she’d been through and I would respect that but I also wasn’t going to let her constantly second-guess everything. “It’s not too perfect. This is us. This is our life. We promised each other we’d always communicate. We love each other, we respect each other, we work shit out. That’s how it works. There are going to be hurdles—life isn’t a smooth ride—but at some point, you’re going to have to let go of your past and live in the present.”
“How?” she asked quietly.
For two months, I’d tracked her periods and carefully avoided coming inside her when I knew the timing was ripe for her to get pregnant. She’d gone off the pill when we’d gotten married but I knew she hadn’t been ready. She’d needed time to heal from the tubular pregnancy that’d almost taken her life. She also needed time to get used to being a wife, to adjust to being around another person. She’d been alone and on her own for years. As much as I wanted her carrying my child, I didn’t want to throw her into motherhood yet. We’d lived through my disastrous mistake of not taking it slow the first time and I wasn’t willing to risk her life or her emotional well-being again. But the woman in front of me now wasn’t the same woman I’d married. She was still my Layna, feisty and a fighter and loving. But she was also content and grounded and I could tell she was ready for something more.
I ran a finger just under the edge of her hat and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “We have a baby.”
“You’re ready?” she asked hesitantly.
I smiled. “Yes.”
A tear fell down her cheek and she brushed it away. “Blaze Johnson,” she accused with a smile. “You are not allowed to make me cry.”
I leaned in and whispered, “I’m the only one who’s allowed to make you cry. And beg. And moan. And come so hard you forget your name.”
She laughed and pushed me back. “I thought we were supposed to be talking about going home.”
“We are. There are better medical services stateside for having a baby.”
She shook her head but she was still smiling. She smiled a lot now. “So you do want to go home?”
I wanted to spend every waking minute inside of her. I wanted to spend my life making her smile. But I was also antsy. I didn’t miss a fucking thing about active duty or being in a war zone besides the camaraderie. But I did need something that gave me an adrenaline rush besides fucking my wife multiple times every day or I’d break her. Or worse, she’d get sick of me. “I need to work.”
“With André?”
I nodded. When I’d talked to André last week, he hadn’t given me the all details yet on what happened after we’d left. He said he’d fill me in when we got back but he did mention a new assignment he needed help on.
She took a breath and let it out slow. “Technically, you don’t need to work.”
“Not having this conversation,” I warned.
“I know, I know, you’re not a kept man and all that bullshit. But you do realize it’s not my money now—it’s our money.”
Yes, I knew. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” She’d put my name on all her accounts the second we’d gotten married and she’d drawn up a will leaving me everything in case something ever happened to her. “Who gives a war-hardened Marine access to millions?”
“His wife.” She snuggled into me again and her hand made slow circles over my stomach. “Besides, maybe I was hoping you’d blow through
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