Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“I love you,” I said.
That stopped her tirade. “What?”
“I love you,” I said. “I made a mistake when I let you leave. Fuck, I’ve been miserable in L.A. without you.”
“You love me?” she said softly.
I nodded, stepping closer. “Fuck, girl, I’ve loved you for a while now.”
“A while now,” she repeated.
“I’m done with it,” I said. “I’ll always be a SEAL, but I’ll never leave you again.”
She stood there staring at me, her mouth parted, the anger clearly having faded away. She said nothing, didn’t make a move to come closer, just watched me.
“Well?” I said, smiling. “I love you. Fuck, I do.”
She threw her arms around me and kissed me hard.
Lightning broke through my body as I kissed her back, pulling her tightly against me.
We kissed like that, standing out in front of her parents’ house, almost like we were alone in the world.
Finally, she pulled away. “You can’t leave me again,” she said.
“I know.”
“I love you too then, asshole.”
“Yeah,” I said, grinning hugely, “I know you do.”
I kissed her again, and I knew that I didn’t need a week to figure things out. I’d already made my choice.
The general was going to be pissed, but fuck him. I’d keep doing their domestic propaganda missions, but I didn’t need to make them happy all the time. I was done being their fucking lackey, their little lap dog they thought they could push around.
I had Selena now, and that was what mattered. I didn’t need them anymore.
I kissed her hard and hoped she understood that.
33
Selena
One Year Later
* * *
I looked down at the ring on my finger and smiled.
It was funny how things could start to mean something else. One second it has all these bad feelings, this negativity, and the next it feels completely fresh.
Once upon a time, my engagement ring had made me sad. When I looked at it, I knew that it was just a lie. Maybe I felt something for the man that had given it to me, but that wasn’t reality. We were lying to the world, all because I needed money and he wanted a better job.
Then, things happened. Lots of things happened. Lots of dirty, sweaty, incredible things happened. And the ring began to mean something very, very different.
When I looked at my ring over a year after he had first given it to me, it stood for love. It wasn’t a lie, not anymore.
I leaned back in my chair, smiling up at the little bungalow. The sun was bright in the late afternoon, and I felt a bead of sweat roll down my back. The glass of iced tea next to me was sweating, just like I was.
What a lovely day. The garden was coming in nicely, especially since I had so much time to work on it. Ever since we’d gotten the news all those months ago, Nash had been adamant that I never worked again. I missed my little part-time job, but I had a bigger full-time job coming up, growing inside me.
I looked up and saw him standing in the doorway to our little house in the hills, smiling at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said, walking toward me. He was wearing a pair of cutoff jean shorts and nothing else, his muscles tanned and tensed, incredibly sexy.
“Do you ever wear a shirt?” I asked.
“You know the answer to that.”
I laughed as he kissed me on the cheek and crouched down next to me. He kissed my stomach next and smiled. “How’s Chris doing today?”
“He’s good,” I said.
“And how are you?”
“Fine,” I said. “Bored. Ready to give birth already.”
He laughed. “We have a long way to go before that happens.” He paused and looked back at the house. “Your mom said she’s going to move out here,” he said quietly.
“I know,” I admitted. “Ever since Dad died, well, she doesn’t want to be alone out there anymore. You know?”
He sighed. “Does she have to live with us?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Fine,” he grunted. “But we’re getting a bigger house.”
“Fine with me.”
He kissed me again and stood up.
“Look at you, my pregnant wife. How’s it feel to know that we never have to lie to the media again?”
“Speak for yourself,” I said. “I love lying to them. Makes me feel alive.”
He laughed. “Do what you want, babe. Just don’t tank this movie.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
He shrugged. “Part of me thinks it’s going to fail. But part of me doesn’t give a fuck.”
“General Prick will give a fuck.”
He smiled at my little nickname for his commanding officer. “Yeah, well.”
After our first month together, he told me everything. He told me about how the media tour was a propaganda thing set up by the government, how the book was ghostwritten by some guy working for them, and how it was technically his mission to go through all the media shit he went through.