Chapter Fourteen

Ben

I’m married to Norah. If I say it to myself seven hundred times a day it still doesn’t sound right. Her birth control failed and I’m going to be a daddy. Doing the right thing was the hardest decision I’ve ever made in my life. I made the decision to make her an honest woman after drinking a case of beer with Tahoe. Harder still was telling Harper that Norah was pregnant and I intended to marry her to make sure our child has both parents, all the time. Sometimes you make things work for the greater good. I know this firsthand. I expected hostility, but what I got from Harper was even worse.

Pride.

Harper was proud of me for doing the right thing. Part of me hoped she’d tell me to love her, stay with her, that she’d be a great stepmother to my child, but Harper Rosehall will always do the right thing. The one time she deviated will go down as the best night of my life. Nothing is going to change that. Not a marriage of moral code and conduct, and surely not a child. Harper is too rational, calculating for that. Granted, tears started to pour down her face a minute later, which erased some of her proud words.

It’s fitting that the one thing that could pull me away from Harper and our age old love happened the moment I felt the most secure in all ways. It was a rug ripped out from underneath me when Norah called me at the bowling alley. She’d been trying to tell me earlier when she stopped by my house, but I was still in a fucking love cloud with Harper—too wrapped up in my perfect world to see how upset she was.

I’m a dickhead. No man has ever carried the amount of guilt on his shoulders that I do. I don’t let it show because that would make the women feel even worse about this fucked up situation. Norah wasn’t easy to convince, either. She immediately went on to tell me she’d raise the baby by herself and that I could be involved as much or as little as I wanted to.

Once the shock of her insinuation wore off I was furious she thought I was the type of man to not take care of his responsibilities. Especially one as great as being a proper father to a child. Everything else stemmed from there. My love and Harper’s feelings had to take a backseat to the new life I helped create. Norah is still wary of my love for Harper, but with a baby girl coming, it’s easy for her to get lost in the world of everything baby and pregnancy. She overlooks a lot. Or she pretends to.

The way I stare out the window waiting for Harper to pull up. The way I close my eyes when Norah kisses me good night. How I can’t bear to look at the full-length mirror in our bedroom. How I haven’t smiled in weeks. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to be a father. More than I ever thought I’d be. I’m upset that it’s not what I pictured in my mind, but then again, what ever is?

Norah gets out of bed to use the restroom. Again. I roll over to face the window and stare. The long window is naked as Norah is redecorating, so it’s bright as fuck in the morning, but you can see everything at night. The stars. The clouds. The moon.

The toilet flushes and I feel her crawl back into bed and her soft breaths. “Ben,” Norah whispers.

I can tell by the tone of her voice this is going to be one of the conversations that make me want to jump out of that window and run fast and far. I clear my throat to let her know I hear her.

“You’re not happy. You told me you needed some time to get used to the idea. It’s a lot for me too. I don’t want you to be unhappy. That’s worse than co-parenting with two happily unmarried parents.” She’s more perceptive than I thought. Norah is my wife. I think that sentence three times. Norah is my pregnant wife. She’s carrying my child.

“We’re married. This is it for me,” I say, my voice cracking from disuse. It’s 2 a.m.

“Why does that sound like a death sentence when you say it?”

“It was the right thing to do.” I roll to face her.

Her face is lit with moonlight. Her blond hair cascades over her shoulders in long waves. She looks ethereal—a figment of my imagination. A woman I should be worshipping. Not getting used to the idea of loving. A small smile appears on her full lips.

“I’ll get there.” I grin back and lay my hand on her stomach.

I asked her father for permission after I asked Norah for her hand in marriage. He knew right away she was pregnant. Norah is in career mode. Nothing would force her from that path except for one thing. “It’s not an arranged marriage, Ben. You shouldn’t have to try,” she replies, laying her hand on top of mine. “When did you see Harper last? That’s why you’re so sad.”

“Seeing Har—her isn’t a good idea and you know it, Norah. Don’t say stupid shit like that. I’m doing what I think is right. What I want.”

“At my expense. I don’t want a marriage like this. You remember when I met your parents and they ended up talking about her? After, I told you I felt like I knew her even though I’d never met her?”

I nod. I can’t think of Harper let alone see her or talk about her.

“Because you are so entwined with her you’ll never disentangle yourselves. I don’t want to be the interim wife you married to keep your intent pure just to have this crash and burn later on when you realize Harper is marrying someone else.”

Jealousy, heavy and green, enters my chest and forces my heart to beat quicker. Norah is right. She’s always right when it comes to Harper. “I love you. She can do what she likes. Can we get some sleep now?” I rub her stomach when the baby kicks.

“She’s awake. I can’t sleep when she’s beating on my ribs.”

I chuckle. “I guess I have you to thank for this deep, middle of the night, conversation, huh?” I say, lowering my voice for the baby. “Go to sleep, baby Robin. Let your Mommy get some rest.”

Norah laughs. “We haven’t decided on her name yet.” Pulling my face up to look at hers, she says, “One last thing.” It scares me when she looks this deep. It makes me feel like she can see inside my soul, like she knows all of the promises I give her are dependent on something neither of us can control.

“Huh?” I ask, swallowing hard.

“Don’t let me be the last to know. Not like last time. When you go back to Harper, give me some notice so I can prepare myself. Get my life together. For me and for her.” She rubs her stomach.

I grimace. “That’s sick. Don’t talk like that. How can you live like that? One foot in and out of the door. Both of my feet are here. With you. Our life.” I pat her belly for good measure.

Her eyes get glassy and it’s accentuated by the blue light pouring in the window. “Your heart is most definitely on the other side of the door. Feet don’t matter.”

She wiggles her cold toes against my legs and I jolt. I pull her into my arms and hug her close. Pressing a kiss on top of her head, I close my eyes. “I made the first right decision of my life the day I married you.” It’s not a lie. All those times in my past I could have had Harper are my cross to bear and it’s painful to watch Norah deal with my mistakes. “I love you guys.”

The fucking mirror catches my eye when I open my eyes. This isn’t a bottle of lotion prickling my skin, this is a motherfucking ghost haunting my soul. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll sing the lullaby Robin likes.”

Norah nods against my shoulder and sets her head on the pillow. I scoot down, so my feet are hanging off the bed, and sing the song I created for the baby. My voice is low and raspy, but she stops kicking as soon as the first verse is out.

Robin bird, Robin bird, I’ll sing to you so sweet.

You fly in the sky and you’re mine always to keep.

Robin bird, Robin bird, you were born to soar.

The clouds and the sun aren’t enough, you want more.

Robin bird, Robin bird, the stars and the moon are too far.

Stay with me here for a while, but always be who you are.

Robin bird, Robin bird, I’ll give you my all.

Robin bird, fly high. Soar free. Never fall.

“We can name her Robin,” Norah whispers into the dark.

Sliding back up to my pillow, I cradle her face in my hands. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be gone when you wake up,” she says, smiling. “I have to check on a patient at five a.m.”

“Sleep well,” I reply, kissing her forehead. “I’ll call you when I get up. I’m leaving for Arizona mid-morning.”

Norah nods, rolls over, sighs contentedly, and falls asleep in a matter of minutes.

++++

Tahoe is next to me, grumbling about his gun. Our Pelican Cases that contain all of our equipment are being loaded into our private plane. “Motherfucking thing isn’t sighted in properly.” He’s eyeing the scope.

“Looks like you won’t be killing anyone today,” I joke. We have multiple guns, but we all have a favorite. I’m at ease this morning—existing in the area of mental Harper blocks. “What are you thinking? Twenty-four hours tops?” I’d really like to be home for the weekend.

“Who knows? They said there could be a few quads,” he says, grinning.

I realize it’s quite wrong of me to be disappointed, because that means it will take longer, and I don’t even care. At this point, this is merely a job. One I enjoy for the moral benefits and the brotherhood. The excitement and thrill isn’t too shabby either.

I’m screwing around with my kit, a pair of pliers in my hand when my phone buzzes from my pocket. Pulling it out, I see it’s my mom asking me to call her when I get a chance. She wants to have us over for dinner. The plus about this whole fucking mess is no one except Harper and I know exactly how atrocious the start was. My parents were shocked as hell when I said I was marrying Norah. They softened when they realized she was pregnant—that I was manning up. My father clapped me on the back and gave me a smile that looked more like a grimace.

Harper’s parents were more upset. I think her mom even cried. She excused herself to the kitchen after I mumbled the words. It made my stomach hurt. She looks like Harper. She knows Harper. The pain transfer was evident. This is how Harper truly feels about my marriage. Not proud. Sad. Horrified that our bad fucking timing really did screw any chance we ever had for happiness. I text her back that hopefully Sunday we’ll be over for dinner.

She texts back that Harper is going to be there, too. “Fuck!” I yell.

“You scared me, pussy. What’s the deal?” Tahoe barks.

Macs and Smith, two other SEALs, walk by and shake their heads at my outburst. Macs mumbles something about getting my shit together. Shit ruins missions. Ask any SEAL. As elite a force as we are, we’re also only human. With lives and loves, and pregnant wives we aren’t in love with, will probably never be in love with. We have friends we’re in love with that we’ll have to be around for the rest of our lives even though it shreds our souls.

Groaning, I tell him. As quietly as possible. “It’s complicated,” I finish the story.

Tahoe grins, his toothy white smile seeming more like a kill face than a comforting gesture. “You have the least complicated issues of any of these fuckers. You realize that, right?” He nods around to our brothers. We all have our share of highs and lows, but at the moment I don’t see how any of them can compete with the utter shit show that has become my life.

I pocket my phone. “You’re insane. I married her. I’m fucking married.” Remember what I said about repeating the mantra? Obviously saying it out loud doesn’t work either. It still tastes like chalk.

“I don’t know why you went and did that,” Tahoe says, cradling his gun in his lap, cleaning it before he packs it away. “A rash solution to a bad decision.”

“What’s the bad decision?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. He knows more about my situation than anyone else. I think it’s because he keeps his relationship such a secret that him meddling in all of ours seems natural. He’s a Yoda. A killing machine masquerading as a love whisperer.

“Letting her go,” he says, meeting my gaze. “That’s one you’ll never live down. It’s 2017, you don’t have to marry your baby momma anymore. You be a father. I don’t peg you for a deadbeat. You have some religious hang-ups I’m not aware of?” he asks. It’s an honest question. He’s trying to understand.

Shrugging, I say, “It seems crazy to even me. The thing is, doing the right thing regardless of cost is sort of my thing. It’s why I’m not already married to Harper with a basketball team of kids right now. I joined the Navy instead of going to college with her. Do you know how many times a day I think about what could have been? How happy I’d be right now if I’d made a different decision? Then feel guilty for thinking it because I love my job. And I love my baby girl.”

“How’s that fair to Norah?”

I shake my head. “It’s not. It hurts her more than me because she knows. Dude, every day I wake up and she’s in my bed I think how lucky I am she agreed to marry me.”

“She’s either stupid in love with you or just stupid,” Tahoe replies. “If she knows you’re in love with another woman she won’t be surprised when you tell her you don’t want to be married. You’ll be a good dad regardless. So many of these guys have kids from other marriages that they make work. Your morals and obligations don’t change because your love is aimed at a woman who isn’t her mother.”

“I need to get over Harper.”

“How are you going to do that?”

I’ve thought long and hard about this and the only way to not love Harper Rosehall is to be indifferent. “Not think about her,” I reply. “Or look at her. Blame her for this mess in the first place.”

Tahoe chuckles and it sounds like tits cutting glass. “Some moral high ground you’re on. Blaming her for your indecision. I take it back, you’re more fucked up than they are. Keep up the twisted game. Soon your daughter will be here to see it. That will be fun.”

“Fuck you, Tahoe.”

Closing his case, he stands to walk toward the plane. Over his shoulder he says, “You only get one ride, bro. Make sure it’s one with horsepower.”

I board after him and fall into my own row. The window shades are up and shining morning light. I close them to darkness. Deep down I know how wrong I was to marry Norah. Harper didn’t stop it. She watched me commit the treasonous act without a word. The engines start and I take out my phone. I should text Norah. Or even my mom to respond to her last message. I text Harper instead. See you at dinner Sunday.

The gray bubbles pop up as she goes to reply, but it disappears as she deletes what she was going to say. I write her a message in notes, but don’t send it.

You loved me enough to let me break my own heart.