Semper Fi

I glanced over at her, wiping my bare chest with my t-shirt and stretching out for a warm-down.

  “Sounds interesting. Does this one involve leaving the bedroom?”

  She raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Yes, it does, but now you’ve got me thinking other things, Hunter, and my once pristine thoughts are getting a little dirty.”

  “How dirty?” I asked, feeling my dick begin to stiffen.

  She stood with her hands on her hips and looked me in the eye.

  “Very dirty.”

  I groaned. “Why didn’t you say that before I did that damn workout, Caro?”

  She laughed and stepped away as I reached out to pull her against my sweaty body.

  “Rain check until tonight, Hunter. It’s a beautiful day, we should be outside.”

  I guess I could wait. Just. I nodded in agreement, then lifted her hand to my lips, brushing kisses over the tip of each finger.

  I still had some moves.

  “Yeah, okay. I need to see Atash anyway. He’s got some problem with immigration that he wants me to look into.”

  Atash was the name of one of the Afghan men from the café, and weird as it was—the Afghan refugee and the former-Marine—we were becoming friends.

  Atash’s family had been forced to leave their village near Lashkar Gah in Helmand Province and were struggling alone in a new country. I spoke Dari so I could help them—with basic stuff to start, but lately Atash was asking me about more important things. I hadn’t mentioned it to Caro because … well, because it felt so damn good to be needed.

  Caro wanted me, but she didn’t need me. She said she did, but she was so fucking independent. She had a career and earned good money, paid her mortgage, had friends who were fucking university professors and bankers and shit. And then there was me—the hanger-on who brought sweet fuck-all to the table. Yeah, not exactly a partnership of equals. Caro never tried to make me feel dumb; I could do that all by myself.

  I saw Atash most days. Sometimes we just hung at his place, drinking that disgusting sweet, milky tea all Afghans like.

  Atash felt uncomfortable coming to our place. I think seeing Caro talk to me without being subservient, it freaked him out a bit. He was getting used to it, but still, he didn’t get it.

  I brought my mind back to Caro’s question.

  “So, if you’re not talking about sex, Caro,” I prompted, “what’s this ‘challenge’ that you’re going on about?”

  She looked up and met my eyes.

  “I want you to meet my friends. I miss them, and they really want to meet you.”

  Ah, shit.

  My gaze dropped away. I wanted to say no fucking way, but I knew I couldn’t put it off forever.

  “Okay, I guess it’s time.”

  Doomsday—as I called it in my head—was fast approaching. Caro had dragged me all over Long Beach to get the ingredients she wanted, and she’d been cooking up a storm all morning. I was banished from the kitchen on the grounds that I could burn water.

  Instead, I helped her clean up the place then went to take a shower. I shaved off the two-day stubble and realized that my hair was getting kinda long, turning into a crazy mop and really blond from the sun. I’d had the buzz cut for so long, it still took me by surprise that I looked more like a surfer than a Marine when I looked in the mirror.

  Caro walked into the bathroom while I was pushing my hair off my face.

  “Thought I’d grow it for a while,” I said, casually measuring her reaction.

  “Fine by me,” she smiled, tugging a lock between her fingers. “I’m going to be gone for a few minutes. I have to go out to pick up a couple of things I forgot. Back in ten, okay? If the oven buzzer goes, better get your cute ass into the kitchen.”

  I caught her for a quick kiss before she left, then pulled on a pair of ripped jeans, and shoved my feet into a pair of flip-flops. At least I wasn’t wearing boardshorts to meet her friends. Good enough.

  While Caro was out, I decided to make a long overdue phone call and get in touch with Ches.

  He wasn’t my brother by blood, but that’s how I thought of him. He’d married his college sweetheart—unfortunately Amy still hated me for sleeping with her best friend. Well, two of them. Whatever.

  But I got lucky, because it was Ches’s five year old son who answered.

  “Peters’ residence. This is Ben Peters speaking.”

  Too fucking cute.

  “Hey, Benny! It’s your Uncle Seb. How you doin’, buddy?”

  “Hi, Uncle Seb! Daddy said you’ve been sick. Grandpa gave me an Autobot Topsin Transformer. When are you coming to see us?”

  “Soon, I hope. Is your dad around?”

  The phone dropped with a thud and I heard him yelling for Ches. There were some muffled voices, then I heard my friend.

  “Seb, is that you?”

  “Yeah, man! Who’d you think it was?”

  “I don’t know,” he laughed, “fucking ghost of Christmas past! How are you doing?”

  In the background I could hear Ben yelling, “Mommy! Daddy’s swearing!” which made me smile.

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “Really?” His voice was skeptical.

  There was a long pause and I hated how fucking awkward this felt.

  “I won’t lie, man. It’s been … hard. But I’m doing better now. Still got a fucking gimpy leg, but better than I was. Caro has been amazing, putting up with my miserable ass.”

  There was another pause while Ches took that in. I knew he still blamed Caro for a lot of what had gone down in the past. I was over it, but I could tell he wasn’t. Not that I’d ever tell her that.

  “So, she hasn’t kicked you out yet?”

  “Nope. What can I say, I’m a keeper.”

  He laughed loudly.

  “Well, f— darn it! You took long enough to call me.”

  “Caro said she’d been emailing you, so you knew what was going on.”

  “Are both your arms broken, Hunter? You couldn’t send me a lousy email yourself? Jeez, I get a phone call one evening saying that…” He took a deep breath. “Forget it, you’re good now. I was going to fly over and kick your ass myself if you hadn’t gotten in touch by Labor Day. It’s really good to hear from you, bro.”

  “Yeah, about that. Would you ... and Amy … be good to fly over anyway?”

  “I guess so. Why?”

  “Well, it’s just that me and Caro … we’re going to get married, and I was hoping that…”

  But I didn’t get to finish my sentence. Ches was swearing into the phone and laughing and getting by Amy in the background. I had to hold my cell away from my ear.

  “Seriously?” he yelped. “You’re going to do it? You’re really going to get hitched?”

  “Yep, got the ring and everything.”

  “You tell me the date and I’ll be there.” Then his voice became more serious. “I know you’ve wanted this for a long time. I’m really happy for you, Seb.” Then his voice rose up. “Oh man! Mom is gonna go crazy! She’ll be dress shopping before I finish telling her. You’re gonna invite them too, right?”

  “You think your folks will want to come?” I asked, surprised.

  He laughed again. “That’s a hell yeah! You’re their son—an uglier, pain-in-the-ass son.”

  Hearing Ches say that—telling me I was part of his family—that meant a lot to me. Maybe I’d tell him one day.

  “Well, okay. I’ll let you know a date when we’ve decided it.”

  I was feeling pretty good when I ended the call, and then I realized that although I had asked Caro to marry me when we were in Italy, we hadn’t discussed it lately. I knew that was my fault.

  I heard the front door slam as she walked back in, and knew I wanted to make it right as soon as possible.

  I wandered into the kitchen and leaned against the wall watching her unload a shopping bag, then slide something from the oven. Smelled really good.

  “You want something, Hunter?” she
asked, pushing her hair behind her ears as she worked.

  I let my eyes sweep up and down her long, tan legs. She was wearing a really cute yellow sundress. I was used to seeing her in shorts and t-shirts, so seeing her all girly … yeah, very distracting.

  “Uh, I spoke to Ches while you were out,” I said casually.

  She turned around and glanced at me in surprise. “You did?”

  She sounded pleased that I’d finally gotten around to talking to him—but also maybe a bit nervous?

  “And?”

  “He said he and Amy would fly out for our wedding.”

  I heard the breath catch in her throat and she stared at me, our eyes locked together.

  “If you still want to marry me, Caro?” I grit out quickly.

  A huge smile spread across her face and her eyes glowed with happiness as she flung herself into my arms.

  “Of course I do, Sebastian. I … I thought you’d changed your mind.”

  I shook my head slowly, pulling her more tightly against my body.

  “Never that, Caro, but I didn’t want to marry you if … if I couldn’t be a man … with you. And I promised myself I wouldn’t be using a fucking stick when I walked down the aisle.”

  “They don’t have aisles in City Hall,” she cried out, somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

  I rocked her slowly, repeatedly kissing her hair. I can’t deny I was fucking relieved by her reaction.

  “So what else did Ches say?” she mumbled into my chest.

  “He said that he’d decided if he still hadn’t heard from me by Labor Day, he was going to come out here and kick my ass himself.”

  “Good idea,” she agreed with a murmur, “he should do that anyway. Did he say anything about me?”

  I couldn’t help smiling at the note of insecurity I heard in her voice; it was so unlike Caro. She’d been so strong through all the shit I’d given her the last few months.

  “I guess he was surprised—and pleased, I think—that you hadn’t kicked me out. He’s cool, Caro, don’t worry about him.”

  “And Amy?”

  “Oh, she just wants to kick my ass, period.”

  I felt her smile. “I think I’ll get along with her.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I muttered, only half joking.

  I held her face gently and looked into her eyes.

  “Just promise me you won’t turn into one of those bat-shit crazy women about the whole wedding thing, Caro.”

  “Such sweet nothings you whisper,” she teased me. “Don’t worry, Sebastian, that’s not my style.” Then she slapped my chest. “I don’t care if I get married in jeans.”

  “Jeans?” I said, raising my eyebrows.

  “Well, my favorite jeans,” she replied, with a challenging stare.

  “Okay, jeans. Cool.”

  “Now, let me finish cooking or we’ll have nothing to serve our guests.”

  I looked at the mound of food already prepared in the kitchen and shook my head. I also wasn’t too sure that they were ‘our’ guests, and I definitely didn’t think I was going to get along with them. They were older, older than Caro, and they’d all been to college and earned a ton of money in the city. They’d wonder what she was doing with some unemployed grunt with a crippled leg.

  She said they’d only care that she was happy, but even that was a comment that cut me to the core, because I knew how fucking miserable she’d been when I’d been giving her crap. And I also knew she’d been talking to them. I didn’t blame her for that, but with everything stacked against me, I was pretty sure they’d hate my guts. I would if I were her friends.

  Yeah, I was a pessimistic son of a bitch.

  But there was something else that I hadn’t told Caro because it would upset her; they sounded exactly like the kind of women I used to hit on when I was single—tough, career women who told themselves they’d never fall for me—older women who reminded me of Caro.

  Shit, it was going to be a long day.

  As soon as we heard a car pull up, Caro leaned out the window, waving and looking excited. I wanted her to be happy, but I couldn’t help muttering, “Incoming.”

  She ignored me and ran out the door. I stayed standing in the living room, not sure what to do. I guess I thought it would be best if I let her greet her friends by herself.

  They started squawking before they’d even climbed out of the car.

  “Oh my God! It’s so good to see you, Lee!”

  It kinda pissed me off that they called her ‘Lee’, as well.

  “You’ve lost weight, beotch!” one of them shrieked.

  “I’ve brought chocolate and champagne,” said another.

  Thank fuck there were only three of them.

  And then one of them screamed at a level that sent dogs barking.

  “Omigod! Omigod! Is that what I think it is?”

  I glanced through the window, sizing up the enemy. I could see they were all staring at Caro’s engagement ring. Then I heard her quiet voice.

  “You guys are all invited to a wedding in the Fall.”

  Then there was more screeching and hugging and shit. The screaming was making me tense. It was too much like … I blocked it out.

  I was still standing in the middle of the living room when Caro walked in with her friends. She introduced everyone calmly, and they pretended they weren’t judging me already.

  Nicole was the chick I’d talked to when we were in Italy. She was the rich bitch banker—and the one with voice like nails on a chalkboard.

  Jenna was the attorney and her eyes narrowed when she saw me, probably wondering if she’d seen me in front of the judge.

  Only the one named Alice looked as though she’d give me the benefit of the doubt. I think Caro said she was a professor at NYU. She probably thought I was dumber than dirt.

  But then I caught Nicole checking me out. Gotta say that felt pretty good—it had been a while.

  They all sat down, looking more at ease in Caro’s living room than I did. I was marooned in the middle of the floor and I’d left my walking stick by my chair. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I limped across the room, praying I wouldn’t fall over, feeling their eyes all over me. Then I collapsed into my chair and everyone went quiet. It was fucking painful. But Caro came and sat on the arm of my chair, leaning against me, so I could rest my hand on her knee. I needed to be able to touch her, and I think she knew that.

  “Well, you know what I’ve been doing,” she said calmly. “I want to know what all of you’ve been up to.”

  Gradually the conversation began to flow: for them. They talked about people I didn’t know; bars and restaurants and galleries that I’d never been to; books I’d never even heard of, let alone read.

  But then the thin one, Alice, turned to me.

  “Lee says you were thinking about going back to school?”

  “Um…”

  “What are you interested in?”

  Good fucking question.

  “I was going to study Italian and English Lit,” I said, “but that kinda got interrupted.” I glanced at Caro, not sure how much she’d told her friends about how and when we’d met. “But I don’t know now.”

  I sounded completely lame.

  “Lee says you speak several Arab languages, too.”

  “Plus French,” Caro added.

  I ran a hand through my hair, pushing it out of my eyes. They were all staring at me, waiting for my reply. “Well, yeah,” I admitted. “I can speak Arabic, but I don’t read it well.”

  “Could that be something for you?” Alice asked.

  I shrugged. “I thought maybe I’d look into some paralegal studies. I’ve kinda been helping out a neighbor who’s got immigration problems.”

  “You didn’t tell me about that idea, Sebastian,” Caro said, sounding surprised, but pleased.

  “I haven’t decided anything yet, Caro, I’m still thinking about it.”

  “Well, there’s plenty of time—you don’t have to decide now
,” she said brightly—more for their benefit, I thought.

  “No, I can just continue sponging off you,” I sneered.

  There was an ugly silence, and I could have kicked myself for being such a douche. I mean, yeah, that’s what I really thought, but even I knew this wasn’t the time to bring it up.

  Caro’s friends looked embarrassed. Good job, Hunter.

  “Sebastian, no,” said Caro, sounding upset.

  “It’s what all your friends are thinking, Caro,” I grit out, unable to stop once I’d started down that road. “I can see it in their eyes.”

  “Don’t assume you know what I’m thinking,” snapped Jenna.

  “I agree,” said Nicole evenly. “Because I was actually thinking that nearly dying in the service of your country earns you the right to have some time off—and if my friend is having as many orgasms as she says she is, you must be doing something right.”

  What the actual fuck?

  “Is that what she said?” I muttered, glancing over to Caro, before looking back at Nicole.

  “I’m paraphrasing, of course,” she snipped, meeting my gaze.

  I shrugged, amused that Caro was blushing. “She taught me everything I know.”

  Jenna chuckled, and Alice laughed out loud.

  “Don’t mind me,” Caro gasped, her face glowing beet red.

  “Later, baby,” I said, taking her hand and grazing her knuckles with a kiss.

  Then there was a knock at the door, and I don’t know who was more relieved—me or Caro.

  “I’ll get it,” I said, pulling myself out of the chair and this time remembering my fucking walking stick.

  I could still hear their conversation as I limped down the hall.

  “You and I will be having words,” Caro hissed at her friend.

  “Just telling him the way it is, Lee. He didn’t seem to mind: I don’t know, is he the kind of guy who keeps score, because I dated a musician once who used to make a note of my orgasms in his diary, not that he could even tell which ones were faked.”

  “I’ve never faked one,” Caro said, sounding smug.

  Good to know.

  When I opened the door Atash was standing there, looking nervous.

  “As-salaamu’ alaykum! Hey, Atash, how are you?”

  I spoke in Dari, knowing that he still struggled with English. Besides, it felt good to remember that there were some things I could do.