get back if you still want me to?”
I tilted my head and blinked.
“Okay, fine.” She rolled her eyes with a smile. “I promise. This is just the first one. I’ll bring the others over tomorrow before you go.”
“Thank you. I’ve got all the feeding schedules up in the kitchen.”
“For Finley or the menagerie?” she joked.
“Yes,” I answered.
We both laughed, and it was awkward but easier than it had been.
Knock. Knock. Sam stood behind the glass storm doors with a beach bag slung over her shoulder.
“New girlfriend?” Claire asked.
“Don’t start,” I warned, keeping my voice level since Finley was here as I opened the door. “Sam?”
Her gaze darted to Claire, then her suitcase, then me. “Bad time?”
“Not at all. Come on in.” I stepped back, and Sam walked straight through the entry to high-five Finley.
“How’s it going, Fin?”
“Hey, Sam!” She leaned around Sam and stared at the door, which served as another slice to my soul. Not that it mattered. It was pretty much death by a thousand tiny cuts around here right now.
“Just me today,” Sam said with enough perk that Finley’s face fell only slightly. “But she did bake you some cookies this morning!” She dug into her bag and produced a Ziploc full of chocolate chip cookies.
“Really? Yay!” Fin took the cookies and disappeared toward the kitchen, still wearing Claire’s purse.
Cue the most awkward moment of my life.
“How about I take Fin down to the water for…” Claire glanced between Sam and me. “A while. Text me when you’re ready?”
I nodded my thanks, and Claire ushered Fin and her cookies out the door.
“Can we sit?” Sam asked.
“Sure.”
Once we were at the dining room table, Sam pulled out her phone, a laptop, and the small, silver tape recorder that usually lived on Morgan’s counter.
“Does she know you’re here?” Even asking was painful.
“Hell no. She’d slaughter me for what I’m about to do, which means I’m trusting you to keep this between us. But, before we start, do you want to explain why your ex has her suitcase in your entry? Or should I just jump to conclusions?” Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“Claire is moving in so Finley can stay in our home while I’m gone,” I answered easily. “We’re not together. We’re never going to be together again. I’m just trying to make it as easy as possible on my daughter.”
Sam studied me for a second and then nodded, as if accepting my answer. “Okay then. Because I’m not about to risk one of my closest friendships if you’re already moving on. Get me?”
“I’m not moving on. I’m not exactly hopeful, but not moving on.” I rested my elbows on the table. “It’s only three months, Sam. She threw me out and slaughtered me for three damned months.”
Sam sighed. “You’re not wearing her glasses.”
“She doesn’t wear glasses,” I countered.
“Not the kind of glasses I’m referring to.” She rolled her eyes. “When you think about this deployment, what’s your first concern?”
“Easy. Who is taking care of Finley? Where is she staying? How do I keep connected to her? How do I make her feel secure and safe? Not that Morgan isn’t a giant clusterfuck—”
“Nope, you’re good. I get it. You see this deployment with your daddy glasses on, as you should. Being Finley’s dad colors everything in this world, even Morgan. And you might flip your boyfriend lens onto a situation, like you did when you came to tell her about the deployment, but no matter what, your daddy lens comes first. It’s permanent.”
“Right. I can see that.” It was true. Morgan’s love for Fin only elevated my attraction to her.
“You aren’t using Morgan’s glasses,” she said again, then set up the laptop. “Before you two got together, Morgan would watch this video every night before bed. Some nights she’d watch it a hundred times.” She took a deep breath and muttered a prayer for forgiveness at my ceiling before she pressed play.
The background was a white wall with a picture of a Blackhawk helicopter and the tops of chairs. A dining room table. Then he slid into the picture, and I was faced with Will Carter.
He looked exactly like his pictures online, of course. Serious, clean-cut face, brown, wavy hair, brown eyes…and a delicate pair of aviation wings around his neck. Morgan’s.
A pang of jealousy hit me harder than I’d felt myself capable. Jesus, the guy was dead, and I was growly. He still owned the heart of the woman I loved, and I couldn’t even fight him for it.
He