Page 30 of Never Yours

Cass whips her head in Ingrid’s direction, then looks at me with wide eyes. “I, uh… I’m going to take Smitten for a walk. Show her the neighborhood.” Cass takes the leash from me and pats her lap. Even though the pup isn’t fully trained, she comes in an instant. She stops in front of Ingrid and sits. “Well, that’s bullshit.”

Ingrid drops to her knees and pets her. “Smitten suits you, little one.” I hadn’t thought of any names, but if Ingrid likes it, it works for me. Ingrid sighs, and Smitten nuzzles her hand. Cass waits a few moments while Ingrid bonds with our little pup. When she finally looks up, a small smirk tries to escape as she insists, “If she’s staying with you, we need to go buy everything she needs.” I drop to a knee and take Ingrid’s chin between my thumb and forefinger, bringing her lips to mine. “Don’t think you can just kiss me and pretend you didn’t just adopt a dog this morning.”

“Okay, on that note…” Cass leashes up Smitten and heads into the house, to take her for a walk. “Oh, and please don’t fuck in my house. I’ll be back in a bit. Call me if you need something.”

Cass leaves, and Ingrid and I drive over to my place to spend the afternoon prepping my house for Smitten. I feel as if I’m baby-proofing a home; putting up gates, ensuring cabinets aren’t accessible, and ensuring electrical cords are out of reach. We also bought a large dog bed, the best quality food we can purchase in town, and more toys than Smitten will know what to do with. Admittedly, it’s as if I’m playing house with Ingrid, and I can’t help feeling a pang of hurt knowing there was a small chance we could’ve been doing something similar when we were younger. We’d have an almost ten-year-old now, and my life would’ve taken on a very different trajectory.

While putting up the last gate, Ingrid asks, “What am I supposed to do when you’re gone and I move?” I’m so caught up in everything that Ingrid’s question feels like it comes out of nowhere.

“Do you want to move in here while I’m gone?” I ask hopefully.

“No,” she answers without a hint of hesitation. “This morning, I got an email back from a production company. I might be interviewing for a head writing position for a series. I know the author of the book they are adapting lives in Scotland, but I don’t think they’ll send me there. It’ll probably be filmed in Los Angeles or New York. Maybe Canada. I might have to move. If not this job, maybe another one. I can bring Smitten with me but”—she shakes her head, shutting her eyes—“this is moving too fast.”

All at once, I know I’m losing her. “What are you saying?”

“Cay, I’ve been in town for a week. One week and you’re adopting dogs, and basically asking me to move in. You have to see how crazy that is.” She takes a deep breath, and my stomach drops. “I’ll take the blame for being swept up in the fantasy, but the reality is in a few short weeks, you’re gone.”

“Only for two years, and if I can’t call, I’ll write you every day.”

“Please don’t,” she snaps. “It’ll only make things harder.”

I take a step closer, but she takes one back to keep her distance. “Ingrid…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I just need some time to think, so I’m going to stay at my place tonight. Cass mentioned coming by in about an hour with Smitten. If you need help, I’ll come by, but if I stay the night, I’m going to sleep on the couch.” Just as I think she’s going to leave, she wraps her arms around my middle. “I don’t want to end things, but I just need everything to slow down for us to figure it out.”

I hold her tighter and kiss the top of her head. The clock is still ticking, and I’m still leaving. She was right the first night I spent with her: One of us will get hurt. We do need to slow things down; I’m not going to lose her because I’m leaving. “Maybe a clean break is the best? We can pick up where we left off when I come home.”

“Why does it have to be all or nothing?”

“You’re my everything, Ingrid, it’ll never be nothing,”

“So, now what? We don’t see each other or talk until you’re back?”

I blow out a long breath but won’t let go of her until I absolutely have to. “You deserve better than two weeks. Hell, we both do. I don’t know where the answer lies, but I refuse to accept that this is the end.”

“‘Clean break’ sounds a hell of a lot like the end, Cay,” she whispers, angling her chin and looking up at me.

“What do you want?” I risk asking, unsure if I even want the answer.

Her eyes search mine. “I don’t know. Just not what we’re doing.”

“Stay with me tonight. I’ll see if Cass can watch the pup, and we can spend one last night, just you and me. In the morning, we’ll set the two-year timer. I just want to wake up next to you if I have to wait years to do it again.”

“Okay,” she whispers and lifts onto her toes to kiss me gently. She’s being careful, and I let her.

I bend to pull her legs up and around my waist, then lead us into the kitchen and set her on the counter. I stand between her legs and glide my fingers into her hair, resting my thumb on her cheek. As I close the distance, I stop with our lips a mere whisper apart when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I sigh, and reluctantly check it, finding an unknown number calling. I send it to voicemail and mutter, “Fucking spam,” but then send a quick text asking Cass if she can take Smitten tonight. I don’t wait for her reply and toss the phone on the counter. “Where was I?”

She smiles, and it’s one that reaches her eyes. I know this is the stupidest idea I’ve ever come up with—one night with Ingrid will never be enough. I could never ask for her to wait for me, but I pray she will all the same. I capture her mouth with mine, desperate to take advantage of every last moment I have with her. If tonight is all I get, I’ll make sure it’s the longest fucking night in existence.

And have her aching for a second.

When I’m gone, I want to be the first thing she thinks about when she wakes up each morning, and selfishly, I want her hand between her legs each night, counting down the days until I’m back and buried inside her.

Gripping her ass and pulling her body flush with mine, I’m lost in the taste of her when the phone ringing has my entire world crashing down around me. No. Fuck! My landline number is unlisted—only Pop and the Navy have it.

“Fuck,” I groan, reluctantly pulling back from Ingrid.

“What’s wrong?”

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