7. Suzie

7

SUZIE

D amn that man looks good in uniform. I have to hand the pictures back before I swoon and do something stupid like forgive him without examining all the angles of this thing.

I pierce a piece of chicken with my fork and pop it in my mouth, giving myself time to think.

I want to believe him. The explanation makes sense, but I don't want to be drawn in like a na?ve, lovestruck girl again. And I'm still not clear what he's doing here. Did he find out about George? Is that why he's here?

The thought makes me cold all over, and I put down my fork. "Why are you here, Jack? Really?"

He slides the photos into his bag and puts on his charming grin. "I told you; I want to hike the trails."

He's not getting away with sloppy answers. I fix him with a steely stare until the grin slides off his face. "The truth, Jack. I want the truth."

He takes a swig of beer and places the bottle carefully on the table. His expression turns serious in a way I've never seen before. "I came for you, Suzie."

My stomach flutters at the words, and my stupid heart beats a little faster. He's still got the power to charm me, only this time there's no winning smile. He's deadly serious.

"I hated the way I had to leave you. I pleaded with the major to get emergency clearance to call you when we got to the overseas base. It was denied. For the first time, I didn't want to be there doing my job."

He takes my hands across the table, and I smolder under his touch. "I wanted to be back in the cottage with you."

I draw in a deep breath, and my heart stills. I hang on his words, wanting to pull away, but my stupid heart needs to hear this.

"It was thinking about coming back to you that got me through the mission. I knew you'd be mad, but I hoped I could make it up to you. But I was deployed on another mission straight afterwards, and it was three months before I got back to Cambridge. By then you were gone. It was the end of the year, and none of your student friends were there. Your professor was on holiday. Then I was called up again.

"By the time I had the time and resources to track you down, the trail was cold. I found out you'd come back home to the mountains you often talked about. I wasn't allowed to leave the country when on leave in case I was called back in. I handed in my resignation and worked out the term."

He rubs his fingers over mine. The rough calluses catch on my skin and send tingles up my arm.

Everything he's saying makes sense. I left in a hurry. I got rid of my UK SIM. I didn't stay in touch with anyone from my major. I was too caught up in Mom dying and then the pregnancy. With George on the way, I knew I couldn't go back and finish my studies. I didn't want to stay in touch with anyone who reminded me of that. And I didn't want anyone to know why I'd quit.

"You're all I thought about, Suzie. I dreamed about the nights together in your tiny cottage. You're the first thing I thought about when I woke up, and memories of you in my arms were what got me to sleep on long cold nights in the desert.

"I missed you, Suzie. I should have told you how I felt about you then, but I thought we'd have time. I've missed you every goddamn day since I left. I probably don't deserve a second chance, but I had to come over here to try. I don't expect we can just pick up where we left off, but please, let me take you out properly. Let me take you on a date when we're not rushed and see if that connection is still there."

He grips my fingers in his, and I squeeze back. Three years of repressed feelings bubble to the surface. I've pushed down the memories of Jack because they were too painful, but here he is confessing to missing me in the same way I missed him.

My heart cracks open, and I blink back tears. I pull my hand away from his and swipe at my eyes.

His expression falls. "Sorry love. I didn't mean to make you cry."

I shake my head. "It's fine. It's just . . .a lot."

The father of my child just arrived in town and tells me he wants a second chance. It's everything I ever hoped for. But I'm not the same person I was three years ago, the naive student. I'm a mother with a son to think of.

"It is," he says gently. "But these feelings I have for you are a lot. They've dominated my life; I know a lot can happen in three years, and we might have changed. But I need to know if they're real."

This is the moment I should tell Jack he's a father. I should tell him about the lonely pregnancy hampered by grief for my mother who never got to hold her grandson. I should tell him about the messy birth where I clutched onto my sister who was as frightened as I was, because I was motherless and without a partner for support.

The tricky nights feeding, browsing online forums and then meeting the group of other young mothers on the mountain who have been my lifeline through all of this. The pangs of longing I hid whenever their husbands or partners stayed up to do the late feeding, or took the baby for a few hours so they could sleep, or made them dinner, rubbed their feet, ran them a bath, and cared for them and the baby. I did it all on my own, and I'm not sure I'll ever forgive Jack for that.

But he's here, and my stupid heart flutters whenever he smiles at me, and my body rumbles to life in places I'd half forgotten about whenever he touches me.

What can it hurt to let him take me out? I've yearned for so long for someone to look after me. But he doesn't deserve to know about George yet. I'll keep that to myself until I can work out in my confused head what the hell I want and what Jack really wants. He left once. He could leave again.

"Sure." My voice comes out as a squeak. "You can take me out on a date, Jack."

He grins, and relief floods his face. He was never this open with his emotions, and it's disconcerting.

I hope I'm not making a big mistake.