Page 47 of Keeping London (Flawed Heart)

“Is that all?” Cooper questions with thick sarcasm.

“Whatever dining contractor is working right now needs to be fired. The food’s been shitty all week,” Smith, a Special Forces brother from our unit, offers from across the table.

He’s a cool guy, quiet for the most part. He lives with his wife in Perrysburg, Ohio.

“Yeah, it has!” Cooper agrees.

“Meat shouldn’t be slimy,” Smith mumbles, stabbing his fork into his lobster.

“Exactly! The breakfast sausage from yesterday slipped down my throat, like it was competing with the German luge team in the Winter Olympics, before I could even think about chewing the fucker.”

A grumble of laughter sounds from the table.

“Well, did it earn a medal?” I ask with a smirk.

“Obviously, you know the Germans and Russians always medal in that event.” Cooper smiles.

Cooper and I have a slight addiction to the Olympics. We watch almost every event the two weeks that it’s on.

“How’s Bethany?” I ask Smith, veering the subject away from slippery breakfast meats.

“She’s great.” His face lights up. “Did I tell you that she found out she was pregnant?”

“No,” Cooper and I answer in unison.

Cooper says, “You all were having trouble in that department, right?”

“Yeah, we’d been trying for a couple of years. Go figure it happens right before I leave.”

“That’s pretty awesome, man. Congrats,” I say. “Will you be able to get home for the birth?”

“Yeah, I’m hoping to catch it. I’m going to plan my mid tour around her due date. So, as long as she doesn’t go real early or late, it should be good.”

“That’s sweet, man. Congrats again,” Cooper says.

Mid tour is a two-week break that we get if we’re deployed for a year or more. I’ve never taken one before because I’ve never had anyone to go home to. I haven’t planned it yet or even told London about it out of fear that something would come up, mission-wise, and it wouldn’t work out. I don’t want to get her hopes up. But I’m really hoping that my schedule permits it this time around.

Back in my room after dinner, I’m thrilled when I see that London is online, and I Skype her.

“Oh my gosh!” Her beautiful face fills my laptop screen as she claps with excitement. “How are you? It’s so good to see you! Wow…you’re growing a beard. Ooh…you’re totally hot with facial hair. What are you up to? How’s Cooper? Are you staying safe? Tell me everything.”

This, right here, London’s beautiful innocence, is exactly what I needed after a day like today. After waking up to a bombing, almost getting shot on a run, watching someone die as I carried his bloody body to the hospital, and the nail in the coffin with the shitty food, this will definitely be going down as one of the worst days in my life. But looking at London’s big brown eyes that haven’t seen the cruelty in the world and her gorgeous smile that radiates naivety and love somehow makes it all better. She makes the horrible circumstances surrounding today bearable.

God, I love her.

“You asked so many questions that I forgot them all,” I kid.

“I’m sorry. I’m just so freaking excited to see you!” She grins wide. “How are you? Are you okay?” Worry clouds her cheerful demeanor.

“Yeah, I’m great,” I lie.

I know that London wants to have a one hundred percent honesty thing going on while I’m here. But that’s actually a horrible idea. The obvious reason is that I can’t tell her much of what happens here anyway, especially if it’s mission-related. Plus, I don’t see the value in telling her all the horrible stuff when there is nothing she can do to make it better, which, in turn, would upset her.

“Are you sure?” Her face tilts, as if she’s studying me on her computer screen, her eyes squinting in question.

“Yeah.” I force my smile to go wider. “Honestly, babe…I’m just a little tired, is all.”

She nods. “I can see that. You look tired. I’m sorry.”

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