I felt how difficult this had been for her, how she must’ve been tortured by shame and guilt. How she hated herself for lying by omission.
“I’m so sorry.” The tears spilled over and her throat worked, like she was trying to swallow. “I don’t know how to make this right. Tell me what to do.”
I wanted to reach out and soothe her, but before I could I needed to know, “Is there anything else? Have you been lying to me about anything else?”
She shook her head. “No. Everything, all my secrets relate to my operative status.”
“You mean your spy status.”
Her eyes dropped to the floor and remorse hit me like a fist to the stomach.
I can’t lose her.
Frustrated—with her and with myself—I closed the two steps separating us and gathered her in my arms, saying, “Goddammit.”
Her arms wrapped around me tentatively, as though she were afraid my embrace was a trick. I hated her reluctance, I hated that—because of her forced and gallant duplicity—trust had been broken between us.
I was angry.
I was afraid.
I would need time to move past this.
But mostly I felt desperate to ensure she was safe and nothing substantive altered in our commitment to each other. I didn’t want her noble intentions to fracture what we’d built. Nothing was more important to me than her safety and my love for her. I wouldn’t allow anything, not even our country, to ruin our future together.
“I haven’t yet, because I need time, but eventually—probably sometime today—I’m going to forgive you, Fe.”
The tension left her muscles and she began crying in earnest, holding on to me as though she’d almost lost me.
I wasn’t finished.
“I want to know everything. However, I don’t want you to tell me everything. Tell me only what is necessary, tell me nothing that will jeopardize you or your career.”
“Oh Greg,” she sobbed, holding me tighter.
“Also,” I cut her off, needing to finish my thought, “I need you to promise me that you’ll never take crazy risks. You’ll never try to do more than you’re capable of. I need you to promise me that you’ll take us into consideration. Your safety has to be a priority. You don’t need to discuss your assignments with me, as I know you can’t. So I will have to trust you in this.”
“Okay, okay,” she agreed too quickly; later I would have to ensure she understood. I needed her to consider us before taking any unnecessary (or necessary) risks.
“And, lastly. Once I forgive you, once we’ve worked through all the issues and ramifications of your decision, I promise you, I will never bring this up again. I promise I will not tuck this away and wave it around whenever we argue, or use it as some secret weapon against you.”
She titled her head back, a wrinkle forming between her eyebrows, a silent question.
I gathered her precious face between my palms and placed a soft, reverent kiss on her mouth before explaining, “I watched my parents gather dossiers of each other’s mistakes for their arsenal, nuclear proliferation of emotional weaponry. You and I . . . we must always forgive and forget. But most importantly, we must never take each other’s forgiveness for granted.”
CHAPTER 17
Dear Future Spouse,
I miss you sometimes. It may be weird, since we haven't met yet, but it's true. I miss you. I miss holding your hand, I miss kissing you, those little, cute, gentle kisses on the tip of the nose. Or the temple. I miss looking into your eyes and feeling like I belong. I miss cuddling under a blanket to watch a movie. I miss just doing my own stuff, knowing that you’re close by and I can come hug you anytime I want. I know I'm lucky to have a really great family, but mom hugs are not the same...
-Ana
Letter
Poland
Present Day
Fiona
I freed myself in less than fifteen minutes.
Determined to catch up with him, I quickly donned my holster, dressed in the scrubs over my bodysuit, and went in search of the truck. But it didn’t matter. I couldn’t find Greg or the mobile clinic unit. The truck was also gone.
Thirty minutes later, and feeling desperate, I sought out Dr. Evans in the hospital. I found her in the room off the loading dock.
“Hey.” I gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Do you have a moment?”
“You haven’t left yet?” Her eyes were wide as they moved over me.
“No. Greg left without me.”
“Why would he do that? Aren’t you like an ex-CIA super spy?”
“Something like that. Listen, I was hoping I could borrow the Ducati I saw parked out back last night.”
Her eyebrows bounced on her forehead and I could see I’d confused her. “I-well, I mean-I guess so. Yes. Sure. Use the bike. But why did he leave without you? And why didn’t he take the mobile clinic?”
Her last question blindsided me. “He didn’t take the mobile clinic?”
“No. He moved it to the hangar at the back and covered it with vinyl tarp.”
My stare moved beyond her as I considered this new information. “Why wouldn’t he take the mobile clinic . . . ?”