“I’m done hearing you don’t want to talk.” He reached for my arm and got a good grip on the upper part. “I just flew all the way—” he started, abruptly halting when Nate ripped him away. Jeremy’s body slammed against the wall beside me as Nate put his forearm against Jeremy’s windpipe.
“Didn’t anyone teach you not to touch a lady without her consent?” Every line of Nate’s body radiated threat.
Oh shit.
“No!” I put my hand on Nate’s shoulder. If he hurt Jeremy, the consequences would be dire to the career he’d fought so hard for. “Don’t. It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“Isa—” Jeremy managed to squeak out.
“You know him?” Nate asked me, his eyes narrowing with accusation.
“Yes.” I nodded, trying to swallow the huge boulder in my throat. Jeremy had never grabbed me like that before.
“Of course she knows me!” Jeremy croaked, stretching his neck melodramatically.
Nate dropped his forearm and backed up a step. Through all these years, I’d never had the two men side by side to compare before, but now that I did, the differences were startling.
Jeremy was polished, from his gelled, coiffed head of dark hair to his Armani shoes. His face was flawless, and I knew he’d flash that politician’s smile in a heartbeat with every certainty that it would sway someone to his side.
But he didn’t know Nate. Nathaniel was taller by a couple of inches, stacked with muscle, and he wielded an aura of fuck-around-and-find-out. One of Nate’s smiles had to be earned. And every scar the man carried only made him . . . more.
“I’m her fiancé!” Jeremy straightened the Hermès tie I’d given him for his birthday.
Hermès. In a freaking war zone.
The hurt that flashed through Nate’s eyes cut into me with a single glance, but he quickly masked his features as he ripped his gaze from mine, assessing Jeremy in a whole new way. His eyes caught on the badge Jeremy had pinned to his suit coat.
The badge that said Jeremy Covington.
Nate’s body managed to go even more rigid.
“I don’t know who the hell you think you are,” Jeremy began, all but poking Nate’s chest.
Not a good idea.
“He’s my security detail,” I said quickly. “Let’s just . . .” Shit, this was bad. So, so, so bad. I needed to get him away from Nate before it got even worse. “Let’s just go in my room and talk.” My hand trembled as I fumbled for my room key, but Nate had his out already.
He opened the door with efficiency and stood back, holding it open so Jeremy could swagger through into my suite.
I followed after, pausing to glance up at Nate, who stared ahead with professional indifference. “It’s complicated.”
“Seems pretty simple to me.” His scoff was almost silent, but not quite. “You’re marrying Dickface.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IZZY
Georgetown
October 2014
I’ve been thinking about leave. Maybe not this year, since you’ll be in the middle of classes when I’ll get block leave—aka, vacation—but maybe next year we can pick a place neither of us has been and just go. Just leave everything behind for a week or two and just . . . be. And I know you’ve probably traveled a lot more than I have. There wasn’t money for that growing up, but the only good thing about deployment is the ridiculous amount of money I’ve been able to save. So, if you’re down, send back a list of where you’d want to go with the next letter. Let’s go somewhere warm, Izzy. Somewhere with a beach. Somewhere I can XXXXX
He’d crossed that part out so many times that the pen had ripped through the paper in one place. I sighed and set the letter on the kitchen counter.
How was it possible to miss someone so much when I’d spent so little actual time with him?
“How many times have you read that one?” Serena asked as she finished up dinner on the island cooktop in front of me.
“Once or twice.” Just like Nate, I could find the positives in the bad, and the one good thing that had come from Dickface leaving me for Yale was Serena moving into the two-bedroom apartment when she’d been hired by the Post. She liked to beat herself up that it wasn’t the Times, but I was just ecstatic to have her with me.
“More like a hundred times,” she muttered, flipping the grilled cheese in the pan.
“You know I’m happy to cook, right?” The exposed side was more than a little charred. “I lived with Margo that last year at Syracuse. It’s not like I don’t know how.”
“Your job is to study.” She pointed a cheese-covered spatula at me. “Study, Isabeau. Not memorize love letters from Nate.”
“They’re not love letters.” I snatched up the paper just in case any of that cheese made a jump for it and landed on Nate’s letter. “He made it clear that we’re not together.”
“Right.” She arched a brow.
“You look like Mom when you do that,” I muttered.
She scoffed, and snatched the letter out of my hands. “Take it back!” she demanded, holding the letter above the grilled cheese, which was now smoking.
“You’re going to set the apartment on fire!”
“Take. It. Back.” She dangled the letter just above the pan.
“Fine, I take it back!” I lunged, but she leapt out of reach and then started to read. “Serena!”
She whistled low, leaning back against the other counter. “The man is good with words.”
“I know that.” I grabbed the handle of the pan and moved it off the burner, then threw open the window in hopes of avoiding another encounter with the smoke alarm and our noise-sensitive neighbors in 3C.
“‘Promise me that you’re out there living and not just existing,’” she read from the end of the letter, blowing out a long sigh. “See, even the guy who is clearly in love with you wants you to get out more. Which is weird, but if it helps convince you, then I’m all for it.”
“One, Nate is not in love with me. Someone who loves you doesn’t turn you loose on the male population and tell you to have at it while he’s gone.” I understood his point, really and truly, but that didn’t mean I agreed with it.
“In this case?” She waved the letter as the scent of smoke dissipated. “That’s exactly what someone who loves you would tell you to do. I have to give the guy some respect. He could have locked you down in Georgia and left you pining. Instead, he thought of what would be best for you.” She made a face. “I think you may have found the one good guy left on the planet, and I don’t care what Mom and Dad say about him.”
They didn’t know much about Nate, but they’d made it clear they thought dating an enlisted soldier was a major step downward from a Covington. I hadn’t bothered telling them we weren’t dating after that comment, and honestly, whatever I was with Nate was a step up from Jeremy. He’d sent me an Insta DM last week I’d happily ignored. That guy had some major growing up to do.
“So why are you so keen on me getting out more?” I settled on the kitchen stool and started scrolling on my phone for takeout.