Colt looked over at me and nodded in agreement. “OK, everybody out.” He started shooing us all out of Gigi’s bedroom.
“Dom,” Gigi called out softly, her eyelids fluttering shut as she nestled into the pillows. “Thank you.”
“Get some sleep,” I replied.
“I’ll make sure she’s settled.” Colt walked me out. Once we were in the hallway, he shook my hand. “I owe you more than I can ever repay.”
“No.” I shook my head. The last thing I wanted was the guy to write me a fat check. “I’m just glad everything worked out.”
“Thanks to you.” He rested a hand on my shoulder. “You’re like family to me, Dom. I mean that. Now, go get some rest yourself. I’ll make sure Gigi’s taken care of. And I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I nodded and headed out on my way. Looked like there was no need for me anymore.
§
* * *
I hung around New York for a few days, staying at my mother’s empty apartment, rattling about like a ghost. I roamed the streets in the sleet and snow, unable to sleep. I had to report back to base in a couple days and then ship out to Afghanistan for the last six months of my tour.
I called Gigi every day, twice a day, but I avoided seeing her. I told her she needed to rest and spend time with her family and friends. I told her I was busy, too, so she wouldn’t feel guilty. I could hear the sadness in her voice, but I could also always hear other people in the background. She was with the people who loved her, her grandmother, her brothers and sisters-in-law, her friends. I’d gotten her back safe and taken care of the problem. That was what mattered.
Before Colt could order up a private plane for me, I booked myself a flight back down to North Carolina. Two nights before I left, I walked over to Gigi’s apartment. Standing below, I could see the lights and the movement of people inside. She was back up in her tower. I was back down on the street.
I bet Trevor was up there with her, pink Oxford and all. I knew he wasn’t actually her fiancé, just an asshole who wanted to be. But I also knew how easily he’d fit into the glittering circle of her life. If she were my woman, I’d drag her away from everything she knew. She’d be ejected from her comfort zone for the rest of her life. I wasn’t cut out to be a New York society guy. She was the original New York “it” girl, with a mix of parties, friends and admiring men swirling around her at all times. No, Trevor wasn’t her fiancé, but he was the type of guy who should be.
Gigi might have become infatuated with me, but where would that lead in the long run? With all that adrenaline and danger as an aphrodisiac, not to mention the fact that I had her trapped alone with me for days on end, the combustion between us had been inevitable. Going up in flames for a week was one thing. It wouldn’t be good for her over a lifetime.
I had something I liked to believe about myself—that deep inside I was a good guy. I might have been born into a life of crime and played the heavy from there on out, working security, and now a fully armed military badass infiltrating and striking as needed. But I wanted to be more than that. I wanted to be the standup guy who quietly, selflessly, did the right thing. Even if it hurt like hell.
* * *
§
* * *
The night before I left, I finally let Gigi convince me to come to her apartment. When I arrived, nobody was there but her.
“Oh my God I’ve missed you.” She melted into my arms, pressing her cheek to my chest. It felt so good to hold her again. “Why haven’t you come by to see me?”
“You’ve needed to rest.” I kissed her head and led her over to the couch so she could sit. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better.” She assured me that she was on the mend, resting so much it was starting to drive her crazy, as was the constant revolving door of well-wishing friends and family. “Caroline’s been amazing,” she reflected, telling me how her sister-in-law had played interference, blocking too much activity and skillfully letting people answer their own questions.
She laughed, and I was pleased to see her only touch her side slightly in awareness, not acute pain. “I’ve never seen anyone better at not giving an answer but getting people to feel that everything’s been explained.” Some seemed to buy the cruise explanation, others seemed to assume rehab. Good makeup and soft lighting had gone a long way to hide the bruising. Using a subtle “less is more” approach, combined with getting people talking about themselves, it seemed Caroline had managed to diffuse the pressure on Gigi. Colt had found himself a great partner.
“So, when do you have to go?” She looked up at me, her eyes filled with sadness and longing.
“Tomorrow.”
She looked down. “For how long?”
“I’ve got six more months to serve.”
“Where will you be?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why?”
“It’s classified.”
“Wait…” She eyed me with suspicion. “What type of army are you in?”
“The U.S. Army.” I knew what she was asking, but it was cute she didn’t know how to ask me. She didn’t seem to know much about the military.
“You know what I mean.” She smacked me lightly on the arm. “Are you a regular army guy? Or are you the type of guy who jumps out a helicopter and captures Osama Bin Laden?”
“I’m not a Navy Seal.”
“You’re something, though.” She continued examining me as if for clues, but she should know me by now. I wasn’t going to break. “But then, after the six months…?”
“My active duty will be up.”
She took a deep breath as if marshaling her courage. Then she looked up and I saw it in her eyes, pure devotion and determination. “I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”
“Don’t wait for me, Gigi.” I hated to say it, but I forced myself. “Don’t put your life on hold. The time we spent together, that wasn’t real life.”
“Are you telling me what I feel isn’t real?” She spoke low and serious, in clear disagreement.
I exhaled. She was making this hard. “I’m saying some space and time will do you good. You need some time to clear your head.” With six months apart, she’d get her head screwed on right and remember what really mattered to her.
“You’re a stubborn man.” She got that right. “Too bad I’m a stubborn woman.” I shook my head. She really was, and I had to admit I loved it about her.
Matter of fact, I loved her. Sitting with her there on the couch with her too bruised and battered to do anything more than hold her gently in my arms, I felt it in
my bones. It was easy to feel intense in the heat of passion, watch her glistening and shuddering with an orgasm, or shoot my come into her deep and feel like I’d never get enough with her. But to sit on a sofa with her so fragile, just holding her and talking and know I could do that the rest of my life? That was the real deal.
“I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.” She sounded so determined. She’d better not be, because if she was I’d never let her go.
“I’ve got to go, Gigi.” I stood up. I could tell she was trying not to cry. I had to get out of there fast so I didn’t start talking, start telling her how much I’d be thinking about her, longing for her while I was gone. Good guys didn’t try to bind their women to them with guilt. They set them free.
I held her, smelling her strawberry hair, kissing her sweet, soft lips one last time.
“I love you,” she murmured, looking into my eyes. I closed mine, holding her in my arms. Then I walked out and didn’t look back.
23
Gigi
Sitting out on my porch, I took a sip of sweet tea. Saturday morning at ten a.m. and it was already getting hot. That was July in Nashville for you.
“Going to be a hot one today.” My neighbor Jenny gave me a wave as she stepped out to water the potted flowers on her stoop.
“Supposed to get into the 90s,” I agreed, enjoying the clink of the ice in my glass. I pressed the cool, smooth surface to my face. “Oh, I wanted to ask you something.” I headed over and solicited her advice about azaleas. A guy in a local nursery had warned me that azaleas needed moist, well-drained soil and needed to be sheltered from the hot afternoon sun. Jenny knew everything there was to know about anything that grew, so she gave me some ideas, walking around with me in my yard to decide on the right place.