The day had dragged as only a day packed with staff meetings could drag. It was finally over, though, and I didn’t even bother changing into civvies when I left—uniform and all, I was out of there.
I had just stepped off the quarterdeck when my phone buzzed in my pocket. For a second, I hoped it was Diego calling about seeing each other tonight—we hadn’t made plans after he’d canceled last night—but it wasn’t him. It was my ex-wife.
“Hang on,” I said, and I lowered my phone while I took the ramp the rest of the way down to the pier. Once I was landside and out of the noisy throngs of everyone else trying to leave for the night, I put the phone back to my ear. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Hey,” Angie said. “I just wanted to let you know we got an offer on the house. It’s a few grand under the asking price, but the realtor says it’s probably the best we’re going to get in this market.”
I closed my eyes and exhaled. One step closer to our married life being dissolved. “Okay. Good. Can you email the paperwork to me?”
“Already did. If it looks good as is, I’ll sign everything and submit it tomorrow.”
“Perfect.” Since I was so far away, Angie had a limited power of attorney and could sign on my behalf for anything relating to selling the house. Our lawyers and realtor had raised a few eyebrows over it, but I trusted her, and it would make things a hell of a lot easier this way. “Are we actually going to make money on the place?”
“Oh yeah. Not as much as we’d like, especially once we split it, but enough to pay for the divorce and still have enough left for down payments on new places.”
“Good. Just keep me updated, okay?”
“I will,” she said. “How are things otherwise? How is . . . what’s that town called?”
“Anchor Point. It’s nice, actually. Pretty quiet.”
“So you’re not bored?” There was a note of teasing in her voice. She knew how restless I could get in sleepy little towns.
“Not as bored as I thought I’d be, no.”
“Really?” Angie paused. “So what’s her name?”
I almost choked. “What?”
“Oh, don’t try to bullshit me.” She laughed. “Come on. Spill it.”
“Um.” I cleared my throat. “There’s no ‘she.’”
“Uh-huh. Sure there’s— Ooh. So what’s his name?”
It was my turn to laugh. “You’re good at this. And his name’s Diego. I met him a couple of weeks after I got here.”
“Yeah?” There was a bright smile in her voice. “And it’s going good?”
I couldn’t help smiling myself. “Yeah, so far.” My smile started to fall. “He’s got some hang-ups with the military, though. Didn’t even want to go out with me at first.”
“What kind of hang-ups?”
“I’m still kind of getting that out of him. When he’s ready to tell me, he will. For right now, I’m trying to be . . . cautiously optimistic, I guess? Like it’s a good sign that he’s still seeing me?”
“Or he’s really enjoying the sex.”
Heat rushed into my face, and I glanced around as if one of the Sailors nearby might’ve overheard.
Angie giggled. “I can hear you blushing, you know.”
“Of course you can,” I grumbled.
Another laugh. “Seriously, though—maybe he just wants to get laid and move on.”
I tried not to be disappointed at that thought. “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, I’m enjoying it too, so there’s that.”
“Well, see how it goes,” she said. “And maybe, I don’t know, talk to him if you’re not sure?”
“Yeah, after I bench press the ship, right?”
She laughed. “Oh, come on. You’re not that bad at communicating. Not anymore.” A few months ago, there would have been some venom behind the words, but her voice was light and warm. We had gotten better at communicating, after all. Both of us. Now I just had to apply that to Diego somehow.
I cleared my throat. “What about you? Met anyone yet?”
“Meh. I’ve been trolling around on Tinder, but apparently the only thing that’s good for is amassing a collection of dick pics.”
I snorted. “Is that right?”
“Yeah. And guys really don’t appreciate it when you message them back with advice on how to angle the camera or use lighting to at least give the illusion of some size.”
I laughed again. “If it were anyone else, I’d ask if you really did that, but knowing you . . .”
She giggled wickedly.
We chatted for a few more minutes before she said, “Okay, I’ll let you go.”
“All right. Take care. I’ll look over that paperwork as soon as I can.”
“Perfect. Good night, Mark.”
“Good night.”
After we hung up, I stared at the darkened screen of my phone. It still blew my mind that we’d managed to end things this peacefully. In fact, from the moment she’d dropped the divorce hammer, all the conflict between us had seemed to evaporate. Sure we were both bitter about things, and we’d both done things we couldn’t come back from, but the divorce petition had been like a cease-fire. Now that we weren’t fighting to keep our marriage from collapsing, we weren’t fighting at all.
On one hand, we should have done this years ago. It would’ve saved us both a lot of heartache and wasted time. On the other, if we’d gone our separate ways back then, we’d have hated each other. By the time we’d finally separated, we’d matured, and we’d also exhausted ourselves, and neither of us had had any fight left at all. The discussions about dividing things up and selling the house had been civil. Those conversations had been the calmest parts of my life over the last few months, and when all was said and done, we’d buried the hatchet enough to be friends.
It was probably a better outcome than either of us deserved, given how terrible we’d been to each other during certain periods of our marriage, but I was grateful for it.
Phone in my pocket, I continued down the pier toward the parking lot. I hurried home from the base, stripped out of my uniform, and showered. Then I left again, stopping at a burger joint some guys at work had recommended, and picked up a takeout order.
When I walked into the High-&-Tight, it only took a second to find Diego, and the instant I laid eyes on him, all my thoughts about the house and the divorce were gone.
His face lit up when he saw me. When he saw the bag in my hand, I thought I could hear his mouth start watering.
“Hey,” I said when I was close enough to be heard. “You have a break coming up?”
He glanced at the bag, then at me. “Yeah. I . . .” He looked around. “Let me check with my boss. I can probably take off for a few.”
Just as I’d hoped, his boss let him slip out. We went into the bar’s back room, which was half storage and half break room.
“Oh, man, that smells great.” Diego peered into one of the bags. “Is that a bacon cheeseburger?”
“No.” I pulled one out and handed it to him. “It’s two bacon cheeseburgers.”
He laughed softly as he took one of them, and I sat down with the other. We didn’t talk much while we ate, which normally didn’t bother me. He wasn’t just quiet, though. He seemed . . . distant. And kind of edgy. If he wadded the burger wrapper any tighter in his hand, he was going to turn it into a diamond.
What the hell was going on?
“Maybe,” Angie had said, “I don’t know, talk to him if you’re not sure?”
Okay, so she hadn’t been talking about this exact scenario, but the advice worked here. I wasn’t going to figure Diego out just by watching him.
I washed down a bite with my soda and ignored my sudden nerves. “You okay tonight?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Diego waved a hand. “I’m good. Why?”
“I don’t know. You just seem kind of . . . tense?”
He chewed his lip, staring down at the wrapper he was compressing. His hand loosened, tightened, loosened again. Then he shook his head. “I’m good. It’s . . . just been a long day.”
Why did that sound like an understatement? And if he was understating it, then maybe that meant he didn’t want to talk about it. I was concerned, but I didn’t want to be pushy. Finally, I settled on, “How’s your knee?”
He cut his eyes toward me, and weirdly, his posture relaxed. Like he was relieved by the change of subject. “It’s good. Better.” He extended his leg, then bent it again, as if to prove it. When he met my gaze again, a smile—a shyer one than I was used to seeing on him—came to life. “I can move it enough to do everything I need to do tonight.” He followed it with a playful wink.
I grinned back, but it felt kind of . . . weird. “Are you sure you’re game for tonight?”
“Yeah.” He tensed. “Why wouldn’t I be? I told you, the knee’s fine.” He bent and straightened it again.
“I know, but . . .” But something doesn’t feel right. “You said yourself you’ve had a long day. We can always take it easy tonight.”
His forehead creased. “You don’t want to fool around?”
“I didn’t say that.” I put my hand on his thigh. “I just want to make sure you want to.”
Diego held my gaze for a moment, and when he smiled this time, it seemed more sincere. He covered my hand with his and leaned in a little closer. “Don’t worry about it. If I don’t want to, you’ll know. Promise.” He kissed me lightly, then scowled at the clock on the wall. “Damn. I should get back to work.”
Disappointment mingled with uneasiness in my chest. “Already?” I glanced at the clock. We’d been here almost half an hour. “Wow. Time flies.”
“Yeah, it does.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Did you want to meet up tonight? After my shift?”
“You tell me.”
“Of course.” He touched my face and moved in for another light kiss. “After the day I’ve had? You’re exactly what I need.”
That settled some of my nerves. He’d sounded like he meant it, and even though his eyes were tired, they gleamed with lust.
So I grinned and squeezed his thigh. “You know where to find me.”
“I do. And I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Can’t wait.”