Chapter 50
Marriage has been… bliss. There is really no other word for it.
It’s not the picture-perfect kind you see in movies, where everything is curated, photogenic, and easy.
But it’s the kind that, while messy, feels real.
Tangible. The kind of life you wake up in every morning and think, This is it. This is home.
Our mornings start slow now. Chris makes coffee before I’m fully awake, his bare feet whispering across the floor while he hums under his breath.
He’s always been a man who lives by routine, but somehow he’s folded me into every one of them: my mug on the counter beside his, my toothbrush next to his razor, the quiet proof of us woven through every corner of this place we call our home.
The nights are our favorite. Dinner, laughter, too much wine. Long showers that turn into longer kisses. Falling asleep wrapped in him, his arm heavy around my waist like he’s anchoring me to him.
Some days, I still can’t believe that this is my life. That the future I wanted as a naive twenty-year-old about to graduate from college would be the life literally served up to me by fate in my thirties. I’m happy. Truly happy.
But the thing about happiness is, life always tests it. The reality of the world always finds its way back. Chris got his first call, a job in some foreign country he can’t name until his feet are on the ground for safety.
For the past week, he’s been in and out of briefings, late-night strategy sessions with Jagger, Gunnar, and Damon—his found family.
His brothers in everything but blood. The house feels quieter without their laughter rumbling through it, but the change in Chris’s energy is unmistakable.
He’s back in mission mode—sharp, controlled, and focused.
And as much as it tightens something in my chest, I get it.
It’s who he is. It’s in his bones.
It’s the man I originally fell in love with.
And, if I’m honest, I miss that version of myself, too. The one who is chasing stories. The one whose pulse races for the rush of breaking news.
When Carl’s weekly calls went from begging me to take over the Chicago office to, “I need you in South America. On the ground to cover the political unrest and escalating violence,” I don’t hesitate.
Of course, I say yes.
And that’s how we end up standing on the tarmac at five in the morning. The sky is still streaked with bruised-pink light as the sun peeks over the horizon, and the air is crisp from the night’s rain. My suitcase sits in the backseat. His duffel bag does, too. We’re both leaving, just not together.
When the Aegis jet comes into view, sleek black gleaming under the sunrise, I sigh. “You know I could’ve taken a commercial flight.”
He gives me that look, the one that’s all quiet command and protective instinct. “Not a chance, baby. You’re not flying halfway around the world on some beat-up airline when we’ve got the resources to do it right.”
I roll my eyes affectionately. “It’s South America, not a war zone.”
His jaw ticks, just slightly. “Doesn’t matter.”
There’s no winning with him on this. Not that I really want to.
We pull up beside the jet. The engines hum low, ready. My stomach twists into knots.
I know this is different, but the last time we said goodbye, ten years slipped through our fingers before we found our way back to each other.
I unbuckle slowly, buying seconds. “Guess this is it.”
He shuts off the ignition, turning toward me. “I know it’s not for long,” he says quietly, his eyes searching mine, “but fuck, I don’t want to say goodbye.”
My throat tightens, and I try to make light of the gravity of the situation. “You already said goodbye this morning. Twice.”
That earns me a small smirk. “I’m going to miss that sassy little mouth.”
“Not likely,” I tease, trying to hide the shakiness in my voice.
He laughs softly, but it fades quickly. I reach up, tracing the rough line of his stubbled jaw with my thumb. “Hey,” I whisper. “This isn’t goodbye.”
His hand finds my thigh, warm and steady. “Feels like it.”
“It’s just… see you soon.”
He nods, but the muscle in his jaw keeps twitching. His control slips for half a second, and I see the man beneath the well-worn mask. The one who’d burn the world to keep me safe.
I lean in, pressing a kiss to his lips. It starts gently, but he catches my chin, deepens it, pulls me closer until the world outside disappears.
When we finally break apart, I can’t tell whose breath is shaking more. He presses his forehead to mine, whispering, “I’m gonna miss you, baby.”
I smile faintly, tears welling in my eyes. “I’m going to miss you, Daddy.”
For a while, neither of us moves. The engines rumble in the background, and the wind rustles through the tarmac. The world feels suspended between what’s coming and what’s being left behind.
Finally, I open the door. “If I don’t leave now, I never will.”
He steps out with me, grabbing my suitcase before I can touch it. Always taking care of me, even when he shouldn’t have to. We walk to the foot of the steps together.
The pilot is waiting at the top, pretending not to see us having our moment. I wrap my arms around Chris’s neck, holding on like I can memorize the feel of him. His hands slide around my waist, pulling me in tight enough that I can feel every beat of his heart against mine.
“You come back to me,” he murmurs against my temple.
“Always,” I whisper.
He kisses me again—harder this time, desperate—like he’s trying to brand the taste of me into his memory. I lose myself in it, breathing him in like oxygen with my fingers tangled in his hair.
When he finally lets go, my lips are swollen, and my heart is racing. I grab the railing, turning to climb the steps, my fingers trembling. Halfway up, I glance over my shoulder.
He’s still standing there, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on me. The wind catches his jacket, the morning light cutting across his face. And for a second, I swear I see every version of him at once—the soldier, the lover, and the man who waited ten years to marry me.
“Not goodbye,” I call softly.
His mouth lifts into that crooked smile that knocks the air out of me. “See you soon, baby.”
I smile back, swallowing hard as I step onto the plane.
The door closes with a quiet click, sealing the space between us.
As the engines roar to life, I press my palm to the window. He’s still there, watching, steady, and unmovable.
The jet starts to roll forward, and he lifts two fingers in a small salute. I stare out the window until he’s a blur against the runway, until the earth tilts and the clouds swallow the world beneath me.
Only then do I sit back, exhaling a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
The cabin hums softly. The sky outside burns with early morning light. I reach up, touching the chain around my neck—the gold locket he gave me on our wedding day, my father’s face smiling up at me from the tiny frame inside. The reminder that love doesn’t vanish with distance.
My phone buzzes in my lap.
Chris
Already counting down the hours. Be safe, Mrs. Hawkins.
I smile through tears, typing back
You too, Mr. Hawkins. See you soon.
And I mean it, because this isn’t like before.
This time, we’re not leaving each other behind. We’re just finding our way through the world again. Two lives—two missions—always circling back to the same place. To each other.
Not goodbye.
Never again.
Just see you soon.