Chapter 38 Charli #2
I lift the glass and take a sip. The gin burns slightly, balanced by the lime juice and simple syrup. Everything tastes exactly right.
"You remembered."
"How could I forget your favorite drink?" He pushes the cutting board with lime wedges to the side and smiles proudly. "I went to three stores to find the right gin."
I take another sip and watch him over the rim. His eyes track the movement of my glass to my lips, then back to meet mine, waiting to see if I like it. The intensity there makes my stomach flutter.
"How did I do?"
"You nailed it. Thank you."
He nods once, like that settles it, then reaches for his glass. “Yeah… let’s do this.”
I follow, choosing the middle cushion on the far end. Not too close, but not avoiding him either. He angles his body toward me, one arm stretched along the back of the couch. His bourbon sits untouched on the coffee table.
"This is surreal," I say, swirling the ice in my glass.
"Which part?"
"All of it. You being here. This place. Us sitting together like normal people having drinks while our son sleeps in the other room."
He runs his fingers through his hair, leaving it slightly mussed. "We were never normal."
"No. We definitely weren't."
The quiet stretches between us. I watch him lean forward to retrieve his bourbon, the way his shoulders move under the cotton shirt. The dip at his collarbone catches my eye, and my stomach tightens.
He takes a small sip and sets it back down, but his hand stays on the glass.
"We need to figure out what we're doing here, Reeves."
"I know."
"I mean really figure it out. Not just the next few days, but after Friday. After you leave." I shift on the couch, tucking one leg under me. "There's Benjy to think about now."
His jaw tightens slightly. "I don't want to mess up what you've built."
"So you want to be part of it?"
"Yeah. I do." He looks directly at me. "I want in. I just… don’t know what that looks like yet."
"Then we need to figure it out. We can't keep going like this."
He takes another sip, and his throat works as he swallows. When he sets the glass down, he leans back against the cushions.
"I'm based in Virginia Beach when I'm stateside. I'd have to see if I could move back here."
"If you can't? Does that mean you have to live in Virginia?"
I never even asked him where he lived when he's not in the Middle East. My mind quickly goes through what that means. If we do this, do I uproot Benjy and move halfway across the country? Would I pick up my practice, or sell it to MedSouth and start again?
And do I leave my aging parents?
I swallow, but it doesn’t go down easily.
"My current tour runs through August, maybe early September." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "My work is unpredictable. I could be gone for weeks or months at a time."
I nod, processing. "And when you're not deployed?"
"I get leave. Time between assignments.” His fingers drum against the leather. “I could spend it here when I’m in between missions."
The hesitation in his voice catches my attention. "Could?"
He looks away, focusing on something past my shoulder. "I'd want to. It's just complicated."
"Complicated how?"
"My whole life is built around leaving. You know I've never been good about staying in one place." He meets my eyes again. "But I want to try."
I take a long sip of my drink, tasting the sharp lime while I think. "Wanting to try isn't enough, Reeves. Not with Benjy involved."
He looks away, and I watch his chest fill with a deep breath. Then he looks back at me, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.
"I know that."
"Do you? Because he's five years old. If you're going to be his father, you can't disappear when it gets hard or when you feel restless."
He turns the glass slightly against the table, not looking at me for a second.
"I'm scared, Reeves. I never imagined we'd be back here having this conversation. When I saw you on Thursday, I just never—"
He's quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is lower. "I've always been scared."
"Of what?"
"Of failing you. Of not being what you needed." He lifts the glass, doesn’t drink, sets it back down. “I told myself that.”
I watch him carefully, trying to read him as much as hear what he's saying to me. “How are things different now?”
His jaw shifts. He looks at the floor, then back to me. “Now I don’t get to make that call anymore.”
I keep my voice quiet, my fingers tightening around the glass. I've watched him leave more times than I care to admit.
“I still don’t think we should tell him anything.”
This is how it always starts with him. Quiet and easy, like nothing will go wrong.
"No. Not until we know what this looks like."
The words hang there, still unresolved. But somehow I feel like we both understand the stakes. Nothing has changed, yet everything has.
Reeves sets down his glass and gets up, kneeling in front of me. His arms frame my thighs and his hands pull my ass, bringing me closer to him.
"Charli, I just want to be around. I want to be with you. With him. I want this. Give me time to figure out how to make that work with my job. Don’t shut me out."
"I wish it were that simple, Reeves. It's a start. I just don't want you to leave and him to get hurt."
“I’m here, Charli.”