triggered me. I was going from having a man who was almost invisible to having one that would be here 24-7.
And this was my idea.
He’d wanted to reenlist and I’d told him if he did, I was out. I couldn’t do another deployment. But lately I was afraid I couldn’t do this either. It’s not that I didn’t love him. It was just a huge change.
“I’ve got an interview with the State Department as soon as I get back,” he said. “Might take a while before I get in. And I’ll get to spend lots of time with you until I’m out of background checks.”
My lips pursed. I put the shelf upside down to dry. “Yeah. Maybe we can rent a cabin up in Big Bear or something while we wait. Catalina Island. Make it fun.”
“Think bigger. Why stay in Cali when we can go somewhere we’ve never been?”
He loved to travel.
I smiled, weakly, and went in for the next rack. Stuntman barked. He got excited when the fridge was open. I never fed him human food, but I think Sloan had been sneaking him pieces of turkey whenever she was here.
“Is that my little arch nemesis?” he asked. “That dog better not bite me again.”
I pulled on the shelf. It was stuck. “Or what?”
“Or he’s going to the pound.” He laughed. He was kidding. But it annoyed me just the same.
“How do you deal with armed insurgents when you can’t handle one four-pound Yorkie?” I gave the shelf a hard yank and it came away from the door with a clatter of condiment jars.
“If that fat ass is four pounds, I’ll eat my helmet.” He chuckled.
I laughed and felt myself soften a little. “He’s just fluffy.”
“I know. I’m just playing with you. You know I love your dog.” He paused for a moment. “Mi amor?”
Our game. My lips twitched into a smile and I stayed silent. I set the condiment rack down on the kitchen table and closed the fridge door.
“Amore mio?” he said in Italian.
Still, I waited. I wanted one more. Maybe two.
“Meine Geliebte?”
German maybe?
“Mon amour?”
Ugh. That did it. The French always got me.
Tyler had been a military brat. His parents were diplomats and had been stationed all over the world. He knew four languages by the time he was old enough to talk. Now he knew nine. He was an interpreter. He was also one of the most intelligent men I’d ever met.
He specialized in simultaneous interpretation, a skill set all its own. He knew Arabic and Farsi too, which made him a particular asset in the Middle East. They’d lobbied hard to keep him in service. It said a lot about his feelings for me that he was willing to leave all that.
I put my back to the fridge door and slid down to the floor, a grin on my face. “Yes?”
“I know you’re nervous about me coming home. I can hear you cleaning.”
He knew me too well. “And you’re not? I mean, let’s be honest here—this is a little crazy, right? We’ve never spent more than fourteen days together at a time and now we’re moving in together. What if I drive you insane? What if on day fifteen you want to kill me in my sleep?”
What if I want to kill you in yours?
On paper it made perfect sense. He didn’t have a place of his own. Why get one? He’d be over here all the time anyway. And if he was going to be over here, shouldn’t he pay rent?
This move-in thing had been in the works for six months. Tyler and I had decided on it back when Sloan and I moved out and I got my own place. It was hardly a new development. It just felt like it was barreling toward me all of a sudden.
“Kris, the only thing insane would be me spending another two years half a world away from you. It wasn’t just you who couldn’t handle it anymore. It’s going to be great. And if it’s not, you’ll tell me to go fuck myself and make me move out.”
I snorted and put my forehead into my hand. God, what the hell was wrong with me? “Tyler, do you ever see yourself acting crazy, but you can’t stop because you’re not a quitter?”
“You’re the least crazy woman I know. It’s my favorite thing about you. It’s normal to be nervous. It’s a big step.” He changed the subject. “How are you feeling? Do you have a surgery