Page 99 of Better Late Than Never

I shook my head. “I just wanted sex, but then he was…” I dropped my gaze and shook my head. “In hindsight, it was love-bombing. It’s so fucking obvious now. The way he was always telling me how amazing I was, and how hot I was, and how he couldn’t stop thinking about me…” I rolled my eyes. “Plus it was just gifts and expensive dinners and… ugh. It really is so obvious now, but at the time, I was just like, wow, someone’s actually this interested in me? Because that was part of why I stayed single—it wasn’t just that I didn’t want to deal with a relationship alongside the military. I never got the impression I was worth the effort.”

Connor’s lips parted. “Really?”

I nodded, not sure why my cheeks were suddenly hot. “I was always booty call material, not boyfriend material. Then here comes this guy who acts like Iamboyfriend material, and I thought, fuck it—why not?” I shook my head. “And then it all blew up in my face.”

“So he was good in the beginning,” Connor said softly. “Then shifted gears.”

“Most people like that do. They wait until you’re under their thumb, and then the true colors come out slowly.” I exhaled. “And like, I was already fucked up from combat. Now I’ve got issues with men. So… I don’t know. I think I just need to finish my career, get some help in the civilian world, and then maybe see if I can pull off a relationship.” I laughed bitterly. “If I’m lucky, I might land a boyfriend before I’m fifty.”

Connor didn’t laugh, and he studied me silently for a moment. Then he put his coffee aside and pressed his elbow into the armrest. “And you’d never had one before? Not even like in high school?”

“Oh God no. In high school, I was just counting down the days until I graduated so I could join the Navy and get the hell out of my hometown.”

His eyebrows rose. “So you’ve just… spent your whole adult life waiting for something to be over?” I very nearly snapped that it worked for me so he could back the fuck off, but before I could say anything, he sighed and added, “Kind of sounds like me for the last half of my marriage.”

I blinked, my sudden irritation gone as quickly as it had come. “It… It does?”

He nodded. “I think I knew alongtime ago that we weren’t in it for the long haul. I convinced myself we just needed to get the boys through high school and off to college, and then we could go our separate ways.”

Furrowing my brow, I cocked my head. “That’s what you did, isn’t it?”

He wobbled his hand in the air. “Kind of? We separated before my younger son’s senior year.” He grimaced. “But we should’ve done it a long time ago. We thought it would be better for the kids and for ourselves, but…” He shook his head.

I shifted a little in my seat, not sure what to say.

“The thing is, it’s hard not to look back and realize how much of my life I wasted being unhappy with someone. Because even before I realized we weren’t going to make it… we weren’t going to make it. We were just treading water, both of us telling ourselves we’d get through this deployment, or we’d get through this duty station, or we’d get the kids through high school.” He sighed, pressing back against his seat. “And then one day I’m forty,finallydivorced, and wondering how I’m ever going to make up for lost time.”

“That’s the kind of thing I wanted to avoid,” I said. “I see so many people—especially service members—go through that, and…” I shook my head. “The Navy is enough stress on its own, you know? Plus all the therapy I’m not getting.”

“I get that.” He locked eyes with me. “But it’s amazing how easy it is to suddenly realize how much life passed by while you were waiting for the right time to start living.” He put up his hand. “I don’t want to sound like I’m pressuring you or criticizing you. If this is working for you, then it’s the right thing. Obviously.” Lowering his hand, he exhaled. “I think I’ve just been realizing a lot lately how much I could’ve done differently.” He quirked his lips, then rolled his eyes. “But it sounds like I’m trying to tell you how to—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” I said. “I’ve worried about that sometimes, to tell you the truth. That I’m putting things off more than I should. I was never in much of a hurry because I didn’t want to have kids, but I probably should’ve done something about my mental health sooner.” I tsked. “Not that the military will let me but… Anyway. It’s going to take me a long time to unfuck myself, and… well, like I said, if I’m lucky, I’ll land a boyfriend by the time I’m fifty.”

Connor studied me again. “Do you have to be through therapy before you can pursue something?”

“Maybe not all the way through it, but I’d rather not be this much of a mess when I put myself out there for something serious, you know?”

He seemed like he might suggest otherwise, but instead, he grunted and nodded. “I get that. It took a toll on my marriage. I don’t know if it would’ve been easier if she’d met me after the wars fucked me up, but at least then she’d have had a better idea of what she was getting into. So… I get it.”

“Comes with the territory in this job, doesn’t it?”

“Unfortunately.”

Thank God, we moved to lighter topics after that. I didn’t want to talk about my jacked up mental health or my pathetic romantic life, especially not with him. Not on the heels of such an amazing weekend together.

Not when I was stupidly feeling things for him that I had no business feeling.

I felt good, and I didn’t want to think too hard about how there was no point in even entertaining these ridiculous feelings fluttering around in my chest and banging around in my head.

I didn’t want to, but I did.

Especially since, about half an hour after our train pulled out of Córdoba, Connor dozed off. I didn’t mind, and I let him sleep. Last night had been hard on him, so he was probably exhausted.

It just gave me time to think, and oh, wow, was I thinking.

I couldn’t stop thinking about everything we’d discussed, and about the sex we’d had on this trip. It had been amazing, because sex with him was always amazing, but it had also been… different.

I knew what this was—what we’d set out to do—but nothing we did together felt like the booty calls or hookups they were supposed to be.

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