Page 89 of Better Late Than Never

Connor’s eyes lit up. “That would be great! Thanks!”

“Have you put in your clearance request yet?” I made a face. “Because it can take those offices a while to approve them.”

He nodded. “I already got my clearance for Morocco, and I nudged the person who’s handling my theater clearance.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s so stupid, too. Like, why do I have to get permission to go to Africa when I already have permission to go to an African country?”

“I know, right?” I sipped my wine. “Believe it or not, I actually know someone who got clearance to go to Morocco, but he was denied clearance for Africa.”

He snorted. “You know, my first instinct is to say, ‘no way, that’s bullshit.’ But… it’s the military.” He raised his glass. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

I laughed. “I wasn’t either. He was sure pissed, though.”

“I bet. Was he able to go?”

“Eventually, but he had to reschedule everything. Which sucked because the camel trip he was supposed to take out into the Sahara was booked up on all the dates he was finally able to go. He ended up sending his wife and kids so they could use the plane tickets and go on the camel trip, and then he met them in Marrakech afterward.”

“Oh, that blows. I know so many people who’ve had trips upended because of a clearance or their leave getting jacked up.” Connor tsked. “I was on a ship with a guy who had to reschedule his own wedding because his supervisor decided he couldn’t take leave.”

“Was there a legit reason? Or just a supervisor on a power trip?”

“Little of both, from what I heard. Sea trials had been moved up for our upcoming deployment, and we were suddenly supposed to be out for a week that included his wedding date.” Connor rolled his eyes. “I know everyone gets tetchy about people taking leave when the ship is at sea, but come on—it was a weeklong sea trial. Just… let the kid get married, for fuck’s sake.”

“No kidding.” I poked at my food with my fork. “There was a guy in my unit in Iraq who had to reschedule his wedding, too. But I mean, there isn’t much you can do about combat deployments, you know?”

“No, there is not,” he muttered. “Did they at least do the courthouse thing before he left so they could get all the legal ducks in a row?”

I nodded. “Apparently his mother-in-law was incensed about that, but she got over it.”

“They usually do,” he grumbled.

Arching an eyebrow, I asked, “Didn’t get along with your mother-in-law?”

“Oh, I did. But nothing starts that relationship off on the right foot like saying, ‘Hey, we’re only seventeen and we’re still in high school, but I knocked up your daughter.’”

I barked a laugh that might’ve turned some heads. “Oh, God. That conversation soundspainfullyawkward.”

“You have no idea.” He took another sip of wine. “I was afraid to eat at their house for a long time because I thought she might poison my food or something.”

“I can imagine. Did she get over it?”

“Eventually.” Connor’s smile made the warm evening even warmer. “It’s hard to stay mad when you’re holding your newborn grandson for the first time.”

“Fair enough.”

“Though she got mad at both of us years later because she found out said grandson was planning to move in with his girlfriend.” Another eyeroll. “They were twenty, for fuck’s sake, and they’ve been together since they were sixteen.” He waved a hand. “Savannah was practically living with him at that point anyway, so they might as well put her on the lease.”

“Smart kids. How do you like his girlfriend?”

“Oh, she’s great. I suspect they’ll be getting married before too much longer.” He paused to eat some more of the Iskender he’d ordered. “So what is there to see in Morocco? We’re probably just going to Tangier; I don’t think we can swing Marrakech or one of the other cities.”

“Tangier’s great. The guide I use takes you to basicallyeverything, so he’s worth the money and then some.” I thought about it as I chewed a bite of saksuka. “Oh, if you have time, I’d definitely take a day trip out to Chefchaouen.”

Connor blinked. “Chefwhatnow?”

“Chefchaouen,” I said with a laugh. “It’s the blue city. It’s just this little town on a hillside where they painted everything blue for some reason, but it’s really cool to visit. I swear some of the best Moroccan food I ever ate was there.”

“Yeah?” He sat up a little. “Like what?”

“I… don’t remember exactly what it’s called, but there’s this dish—it’s like a pastry with cinnamon and sugar on it, but it’s savory on the inside. Chicken and stuff.” I groaned just thinking about that meal. “It’s so fucking good.”

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