Page 29 of Operator
The bedroom is empty, and I hear the shower running in the connecting bathroom. My gaze attempts to tear through the door separating us, but no luck. I’m no Superman. I’d seen Gwen at her most vulnerable and God help me, it only made me want her even more.
I’m not in a hurry. I’ve got all the time in the world to convince her I’ll be the right man for her. I meant it when I said I’d do whatever she needs. Be whoever she needs. The moment I held that baby in my hands, still warm from Gwen’s body, I knew. Something inside me had shifted irrevocably.
They are mine.
Truthfully, I’d never stopped loving Gwen, but the right thing to do had been to let her go so she could live her life without me holding her back like a chain around her neck. All I’d wanted was to be an operator. To risk my life for my country. To do something good with the recklessness that burned inside of me. I’d been a selfish asshole and as much as I wanted her, I knew she was meant for better things.
This time is different. This time, they could beg me to join the Corps and I’d tell them to shove it. All I want is the chance at a life with my girls. Because I’m back for good now, there’s no getting rid of me.
We’ll deal with my family when the time comes, but now that I’ve made up my mind, their approval doesn’t even seem to faze me.
The baby and I settle into a rocking chair in the living room that overlooks the generous front windows with a view of the yard. It’s barely morning, the sun just beginning to peek over the tops of the trees in the forest beyond. I don’t think I’ve gotten much sleep since Violet was born a week—or two?—ago, but I can’t seem to care. You get used to it after a while, like you do overseas.
Babies are like deployments, I want to tell my guys. They’d bust my balls for even thinking that, and I wonder if any of them have had families, found peace. I know Ford met a lady friend, but only because I saw her tag him on Facebook. I don’t follow them anymore, but I glance at their profiles now and again. She’s an artist, kind of delicate looking and definitely not who I’d pictured for Ford. He’d been the most affected by Tate’s death, considering his part in it all.
If he can overcome it, why couldn’t I?
Lost in thought, I don’t realize Gwen is standing in the doorway until she sniffles a little. She does that a lot lately, so I don’t comment on it unless she brings it up or seems inconsolable. Then, she has to deal with a bear hug, a cup of sweet tea, and some fresh air. What I really want to do is spread her across the bed and devour her until she’s crying for different reasons, but I restrain myself. Barely.
“Thank you. It feels good to get a shower.” She’d look gorgeous in any capacity, but I can’t deny that in her skintight yoga pants and fitted tank top, she looks practically edible. Her skin is freshly pink, and I catch the scent of her—gardenias—from across the room. What I wouldn’t give to get a taste of her.
“Sure,” I say and reluctantly hand the baby over to her, knowing I don’t have a claim to her—not really, even though she feels as much mine as Gwen does.
“I’m feeling better now if you need to head into the diner or whatever. I think I can handle a couple of hours on my own.”
I get to my feet and busy myself cleaning up around her as she watches in amusement to keep from reaching for her. “Tryin’ to get rid of me?” Like she ever could.
She smiles a little. “No, just feel guilty taking up so much of your time.”
“Don’t. I’m glad I can help. They’ve got it covered at the diner for a little while longer. I’ve got some things I noticed you needed taken care of around here that I’d like to do if it doesn’t bother you.”
“Would it matter if it did?” she asks, and it sounds like she’s joking, but I can hear the genuine concern behind the veneer of teasing.
“If it meant something to you, of course it would matter.”
Her eyes look deep into mine, and I hold her gaze. I have nothing to hide from her anymore. Then she says, “Alright then. I’m not gonna tell you no. I think we’re going to take another nap while she’s sleeping.”
“You go right ahead. I’ll hold down the fort.”
She takes Violet to the bedroom and, unable to sit still without thinking of joining her, I wander around the house looking for things to do to keep me busy. Since I’ve been staying with her, I’ve fixed a leaky faucet, re-caulked the tub, and hooked up the rest of her security cameras in addition to the one she has on the front door and in the living room. The last thing I have to do for the security system is re-download the app, sign in, and make sure all the cameras are recording their footage to the cloud. She’d mentioned locking the door the night Violet was born. We’d found the note that day also, so it sticks in my mind as I set to work.
Maybe it’s overkill. Probably it is. Okay, downloading the app ontomyphone is overkill. And I’ll tell her. Eventually. But I can’t stand the thought of them being here alone. I’ve been dreading going back to my parents’ house, so I haven’t brought it up. Neither has she, so I don’t push it. When she finally snaps to her senses, though, I want to be able to check on them to make sure they’re okay.
Screw that, I don’t plan on leaving. But when I’m at work or at the fucking grocery store, I want to know they’re okay.
While I’m configuring the app, I decidefuck it. I’m already in this deep. Might as well embrace being a creep completely. I scroll back through the history and look through the recorded footage from the day she installed it a few months after Ian died. The first video is of her coming out of the house with her phone in her hand. She studies the screen, looking back at the camera occasionally.
I don’t know how long I study the footage. Days and weeks and months of Gwen’s comings and goings. I watch her belly grow. See her dashing through the house to be sick. Watch her break down crying nearly more than I can handle. Seeing these slices of her life makes me realize how much of it I’d missed.
I nearly toss the phone to the side, sick of seeing her struggle, when I finally reach the day Violet was born. She leaves for work early in the morning. Daisy spends most of the day watching through the window and napping. Then, around two hours before Gwen is supposed to get home from the doctor, the door opens.
Only the person who walks through it isn’t Gwen.
Dressed in a dark hoodie, the figure waltzes inside and shuts the door behind them. Confident. That’s what I notice first. They’re not in a hurry, not rushing around to accomplish whatever-the-hell they’re in Gwen’s house for. No. They take their time meandering through the living room, studying the wedding pictures of Ian and Gwen on the wall, smelling Gwen’s cardigan draped over the back of the couch. With each step that he takes, my hand tightens more painfully around my phone.
Finally, he goes out of the frame. Presumably in the kitchen. Under five minutes later, he leaves. I can’t tell if it’s a man or woman, but I call them a he.
I place my phone down on the arm of the chair beside me so carefully it’s almost painful. When I scrub my face with my hands, I find them shaking. There has to be a logical explanation. Maybe she had someone scheduled to come by to check the plumbing or something and forgot. The letter and going into labor are enough to cloud anyone’s memory.
