Semper Fi

  www.eodwarriorfoundation.org

  To Kirsten Olsen, editor, de-Britisher, best friend, Army wife.

  To Alana Albertson, awesome writer and Marine wife.

  To fabulous author Tina Gephart for sharing the story about her husband who worked in EOD for the US Air Force—he wore his dog tags around his boots, too (see chapter 15).

  To Amélie White Vahlé for the French translation (and apologies for Sebastian’s opinions on Geneva!)

  To Trina Micotta for her marketing knowledge and expertise, as well as her unfailing study of the hottest models.

  To Hang Le for her stunning covers and never-ending creativity.

  To Michael Anthony Downs, our lovely cover photographer.

  To Audrey Thunder and Dina Eidinger, for loving Sebastian and being his unfailing cheerleaders.

  To Sheena Lumsden, for her friendship and all her work behind the scenes.

  To Raquel Gamez who sent my books to her husband while he was serving in Afghanistan.

  To all the bloggers and readers who have followed Sebastian and Caroline on their long and difficult journey. Thank you for loving them, too.

  Thank you Stalking Angels. You know how much you mean to me and you never let me down.

  Sheena Lumsden, Audrey Thunder, Tonya Bass Allen, Lisa Sylva, Tera Chastain, Mary Dunne, Nikki Costello, Ashley Jones, Kelly Findlay, Sarah Lintott, Lisa Smith Reid, Lily Maverick Wallis, Andrea Flaks, Kelsey Burns, Celia Ottway, Rhonda Koppenhaver, Caroline Yamashita, Lelyana Taufik, Aime Metzner, Nancy Saunders Meyhoefer, Helen Remy Grey, Heidi Keil, Bruninha Mazzali, Kirsten Papi, Gina Sanders, Gabri Canova, Melissa Parnell, Dina Farndon Eidinger, Evelyn Garcia, Nicola Barton, Jacqueline Showdog, Elle Christopher, Carly Grey, L.E. Chamberlain, Marie Mason, Trina Marie, Kim Howlett, Ellen Totten, Jen Berg, Shirley Wilkinson, Ana Kristina Rabacca, Emma Darch-Harris, Emma Wynne Williams, MJ Fryer, Drizinha Dri, Rose Hogg, Barbara Murray, Beverley Cindy, Megan Davis, Jenny Angell, Mary Rose Bermundo, Clare Norton, Andrea Jackson, Rosarita Reader, Sarah Bookhooked, Fuñny Souisa, Luiza Oioli, Megan Burgad, Lisa G. Murray Ziegler, Krista Webber, Carol Sales, Crysal Ordex-Hernandez, Dana Fiore Stusse, Jade Donaldson, Paola Cortes, Natalie Townson, Hang Le, Erin Spencer, Raquel Gamez, Nycole Griffin, Kandace Milostan, Ana Moraes, Sharen Kallenberger Marzola.

  And the Fanfic readers who were there from the start.

  SEBASTIAN & CAROLINE’S TENTH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY

  “Hey, hot mama!”

  I take a moment to appreciate the beautiful woman who’s my baby mama. Well, the kids are not so much babies now. Marco is nine-going-on-nineteen, if the way he notices girls is anything to go by—little dude has all the moves. Our baby girl, Shirley, is nearly six, named for the woman I think of as my mom.

  And Sofia, our adopted daughter is 11 and such a beautiful soul. She loves being a big sister and shows it in everything she does—the way she looks after her brother and sister, the way she talks to them and tells them stories. Cutest fucking thing ever. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that her life started in the stark mountain ranges of Afghanistan. I talk to her in Dari every day so she has some connection with her homeland, but in all other ways, she’s an American girl, just starting junior high. And I will personally FUBAR any teenage boy who lays eyeballs on either of my daughters.

  Ever.

  I look at my family and wonder how I got to be such a lucky mofo. It’s not all been smooth sailing, not by a long shot, but life is good right now; we’re good.

  Caro had her 50th birthday a few months back. I know it bothers her, although she doesn’t say much, but I caught her coloring her grays in the bathroom with a home dye kit.

  “Grays show up more when you’ve got dark hair, Sebastian,” she snapped at me when I asked her why she was doing it, although her eyes were glassy with unshed tears when she said it.

  “Baby, I don’t care. If you want to color your hair pink, green and purple, then go ahead. You’ll always be beautiful to me.”

  “It’s alright for you,” she snorted, torn between tears and laughter. “You’re blond—no one will ever notice.”

  And although she didn’t say it, sometimes the fact that I’m 13 years younger still bothers her.

  Things had gotten a little tense between us for a while, and it was for the dumbest of reasons.

  Since I was medically discharged from the Marines, I work as a personal trainer at an upscale Manhattan gym four days a week. That sounds fucked up, but when I was discharged, the docs thought I’d never walk well again, and the bullet that went through my shoulder left me with poor motor skills in that arm. But I’ve worked really hard to get as much function back as possible. I’m fitter than most guys in their thirties or even twenties.

  So now I work with people like me—I mean guys who’ve been injured. I even had to go back to school to learn all the anatomy shit to be a personal trainer, but it was worth it in the end. When I first started out, I used my USMC connections to cut a deal with a gym owner, Connor Gibson, a guy who has a chain of gyms across the East Coast. He wanted to do something for ex-servicemen and women, so I persuaded him to let me do rehabilitation work with guys who’d lost limbs in Iraq and Afghanistan. When he saw that it was good marketing, good for business, and highly fucking motivating for the able-bodied in his gym, he made it a core concept for the whole chain. But part of the deal was that he wanted me working more on the marketing side, as a kind of poster-boy for people recovering from injuries. What-the-fuck-ever if it helped my guys.

  I definitely had injuries: as well as being shot, I’d lost 15% of muscle mass from my right thigh after getting caught in a suicide bombing in Afghanistan.

  But then Gibsy had the bright idea of putting me on the front of a fucking calendar that he sold for the charity Wounded Warriors. That was fucking bad enough, but it got worse. Because that’s when I was approached by a model agency to do underwear modeling for them. I’m not kidding! How fucking embarrassing is that? A bunch of strangers staring at my junk. But the killer in the contract was that they’d fundraise on behalf of Wounded Warriors—a deal that would net hundreds of thousands of dollars for the charity. How could I say no to that? And Caro talked me into it, as well.

  So seven or eight times a year, I’m flown off to some beach or photo studio, and paid crazy amounts of money to strut around in skivvies. Too fucking funny. Except that I started getting stopped in the street by strange women, or even groped in public.

  At first Caro thought it was kind of amusing, but the way these women treated her wasn’t. Yeah, it caused some tension for a while. I said I’d stop the dumb modeling, but she pointed out how much money the charity would lose, and the publicity meant that Gibsy gave extra free memberships to rehab guys to use his facilities. I guess you could say I was locked into it.

  I’ve just gotten back from a shoot in Florida and surprised Caro and the kids by turning up three hours earlier than they’d expected.

  Caro is sitting on the deck in the backyard reading a book. She jumps when I whisper in her ear.

  “Hey, hot mama.”

  “Sebastian!” she manages to breathe out, before I give her the long, hot kiss that I’ve been imagining for days.

  Then Marco looks up from where he’s been kicking a soccer ball and a huge smile spreads across his face.

  I never had that as a kid. The only emotions my dad invoked in me were fear and hatred. My kids are never going to know what that’s like. Never.

  “Dad!” yells Marco. “It’s Dad!”

  Shirley runs out of the house, shrieking at an ear-splitting volume, and she and Marco start using me like a jungle gym. Then Sofia joins in and it becomes a group hug-a-thon, and we crumple onto the deck while they climb all over me. I fuckin’ love it.

  “Hey, can we have a BBQ tonight?” yells Marco.

  “Sure, bud—at Atash’s place. Me and my girl are having a date night.”

  Marco kicks at a dandelion growing in the cracked paving, sending the seeds floating in
to the air.

  “That means you’re going to have sex,” he grimaces. “That’s gross.”

  What the fuck? I mouth to Caro.

  She shrugs, as if to say, You’re his dad—you fix it.

  “Don’t disrespect your mom,” I say to Marco seriously. “I’ve missed her and we just want to spend some time together.”

  “I think it’s romantic,” giggles Sofia, and I can’t help rolling my eyes. Fuck knows what books she’s reading these days. I leave that shit up to Caro.

  “Sorry, Mom,” Marco mutters when I give him another hard stare.

  “Did ya miss me, too, Daddy?” asks Shirley.

  “Yeah, I missed all my babies!” I say pulling her into a hug.

  But she wriggles away looking annoyed. “I’m not a baby anymore, Daddy!”

  “Aw, you’ll always be my baby,” I laugh.

  Sofia takes Shirley’s hand and herds Marco toward the door.

  “Come on, we’re going to Uncle Atash.”

  “I’ll pick you guys up at twenty-hundred hours!” I call after them, and laugh as Marco salutes.

  Kid wants to be a Marine and is forever asking Caro about my medals and where I served. He knows I don’t like talking about it, so he asks her. She’s gently trying to dissuade him from enlisting and figures that she might be successful with another nine years of persuading him to go to college instead, but I’m not so sure. He reminds me a lot of me at that age—stubborn and single-minded, just a lot happier.

  They wave goodbye and I stare at my wife. “Bed, woman. Now.”

  She sucks her teeth and looks down. “Can we talk first?”

  That doesn’t sound good. I sit next to her and hold her hand. “Sure, baby, what’s up?”

  She’s silent, just staring at our joined hands until she lets go and rakes her fingers through her hair.

  “I feel like we’re drifting apart,” she says, and the words threaten to shatter me. She’s only just started talking and I’m trying not to freak out. “You have the gym and your modeling work. The kids are in school now. I’m bored with covering local events for community news-sites. And you and I…”

  My heart clenches. What the fuck is she trying to say?

  “Well, frankly, Sebastian, the only time we see each other is in bed and we’re…”

  “Fucking like it’s the end of the world?”

  She laughs suddenly and I feel my shoulders relax for the first time since she told me she wanted ‘to talk’.

  “Something like that,” she smiles, shaking her head. “I just meant we don’t have much time to talk about ‘us’.”

  “What’s worrying you, baby?” I pick up her left hand and start playing with her wedding rings. “This isn’t like you.”

  Her lips twist in a wry smile that fades quickly.

  “I suppose it’s a lot of things, Sebastian. You’re this super hot model and doing all these photo shoots…”

  “Which you know I’d stop quicker than ass on ice…”

  “I know, but you’re jetting off to exotic locations with all these young models…”

  “You think I give a fuck about them? Seriously?”

  She looks down.

  “No, not really.”

  “Then what? Because you know that you’re the only woman I’ve ever looked at. For fuck’s sake, Caro! You think I’m screwing around on you?”

  My heart is starting to race. How did we get here? How did we get to be one of those couples?

  She sits up straighter. “No, I don’t think that. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. You’ve never given me a moment’s concern in that direction. It’s just that…”

  “Then what is it, baby?”

  “I feel old.”

  There’s a beat as I stare at her in surprise. My reply is as dumb as it sounds. “No, you’re not.”

  She gives a small smile. “I feel it sometimes. You’re so fit and…”

  “Caro, when the winter storms roll in, I’m the one limping around like a fucking retiree!”

  She rests her hand on my right thigh, over the ugly scars that there’re always so fucking anxious to show in photo shoots.

  “I know, tesoro. But…” she huffs out in frustration. “My periods have stopped.”

  She looks up and stares at me.

  “You’re pregnant?!”

  “No!” Her voice cuts across my happy thoughts.

  Now I’m just freakin’ confused.

  “Um, okay?”

  Her lips thin slightly and she crosses her arms. Not sure how I’m pissing her off…

  “It’s menopause, Sebastian,” she explains, her voice brittle. “It’s a big deal. A very big deal. I can’t … I’m not…”

  Now I’m getting it. Okay, so not always the sharpest pencil in the box when it comes to this shit, but I know what to do.

  I pull her into my arms.

  “Caro, I get that this, um, change of life, is a big deal, I do. But I love you, baby, and nothing else matters.”

  “I just feel so old compared to you. You’re a model, for God’s sake. I feel old and frumpy and I’m just so bored.”

  She pulls away from me and I’m wary again now. I swallow several times.

  “Bored with me?”

  Her head whips around so fast, her hair fans out around her.

  “No, tesoro! God, no! Never that! But I need to be challenged—and not just athletically in the bedroom.”

  I can’t help a small smirk at that comment, but I reel it back in because her eyes are flashing with annoyance.

  “So what sort of challenge do you want?”

  “Well, there was that assignment in the Middle East that came up and…”

  “No! No fucking way! We talked about that!”

  “Actually, we didn’t talk about that, Sebastian. You lost your temper and stormed out of the house.”

  True.

  “Caro, it’s fucking dangerous out there. No more war zones. No more places you have to wear body armor. Don’t tell me we didn’t discuss that, because we fucking did. You’re not going.”

  “Stop telling me what to do!”

  “Stop being so fucking selfish!”

  She gasps and her eyes glitter dangerously, but I’m not backing down.

  “I mean it, Caro. We’ve got three kids. What the fuck do you think would happen to us if something happened to you? I couldn’t…”

  I don’t finish the sentence, so we sit there staring at each other. Caro takes a deep breath and I can tell that she’s trying to talk calmly.

  “All I was going to say is that since I turned down the Middle East assignment, I’ve felt … adrift. I need a good story to get my teeth into.” She pauses. “And I had an offer this morning.”

  “Not a war zone.”

  She rolls her eyes. “No, not a war zone.”

  “Okay, then.”

  “Okay, what?”

  “You got a new assignment. It’s not a warzone. How long will you be away for?”

  I hate this bit. I hate her going away, but she hates it when I leave, as well. And this is a partnership.

  She smiles slightly. “Well, it would be about a month … or two…”

  That’s a lot longer than I was expecting, but I can see the excitement inside her. I’ll miss her like fuck, but we’ll deal. Somehow.

  “Fuck, Caro, two months … that’s a long time,” I say quietly. “But if it’s what you need…”

  My words tail off. I’m already imagining what it will be like to be without her for so long. Fucking grim.

  She runs her warm hands down my arm. “Don’t you want to know what the assignment is?”

  “Sure, baby,” I say, trying to smile.

  “I’ll be sailing to Hawaii from San Diego. They want me to write an article about the challenges … for a family.”

  I look up, wanting confirmation for what I’ve heard. “A family? What?”

  “It’s a series of articles about alternative ways of family life. You
know, families who go backpacking around the world; families who live in eco communities and grow their own food, children growing up on the carnival circuit. Well, the editor is following a family at the start of their sailing-around-the-world trip. I’ve been asked to go and report on it … and then I suggested to the editor that we all go for the first month, so I get a real flavor of what it’s like. All of us.”

  Her words run together rapidly and I’m not sure who she’s trying to persuade—me or herself.

  “It would be an amazing learning opportunity for the children: geography, sailing, navigation, cooking in a galley, fishing … I don’t know! Lots of things. It would be good for us, as well, Sebastian, to spend time together.”

  She’s pretty much convinced me, and I can see how amazing it would be to do something like that. But one thing worries me.

  “It sounds great, Caro, but I don’t know … Sofia has only just started at her new school and she really likes it. It could fuck things up if we take her out for a couple of months now.”

  Caro smiles at me. “You’re such a good father, Sebastian. So responsible.”

  I know she’s teasing me, because I used to be kind of wild, but this shit is important.

  “I’ll have to ask permission to take the children out of school for so long, but if the school goes for it, do you have any other objections?”

  “No, baby. Not even one.”

  Caro smiles at me in a way that has my dick hardening immediately. That’s something that’s never changed—no other woman has ever gotten me so hot so quickly. And she knows it.

  “We’d be away for your birthday and our tenth wedding anniversary,” she says, as if I could forget that.

  “Baby, all that matters is you being happy.”

  “So, you think I should take the assignment?” she asks.

  I roll my eyes. “Caro, you made up your mind before I walked through the door.”

  She thinks about this. “No, I hadn’t made up my mind, but I’d have been disappointed if you thought it was a bad idea. So, I’ll tell the editor yes?”