Come Back To Me (23 page)

offers to help, but I sit her on a stool in the middle of the

room and open the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of

champagne.

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‘What are we celebrating?’ she asks when I hand her a

glass.

‘Us,’ I say, clinking my glass of water with hers.

‘You aren’t having any?’ she asks.

‘I don’t drink,’ I say.

She nods thoughtfully and doesn’t ask anything fur-

ther. She knows the reason why, and I love it that she

doesn’t need to ask questions. She takes just a sip from

her own glass and then sets it down on the side.

I start prepping the salmon I’m cooking and check on

the vegetables that are roasting in the oven. My mind’s

struggling to remember the recipes, though, with Jessa

sitting there watching me.

‘Have you seen much of Riley?’ I ask, trying to distract

myself from the very graphic thoughts of what I plan to

do to her later.

‘No,’ she says, ‘not much. He’s pretty much living with

Jo. He comes back for dinner.’ She shrugs. ‘I think you see

more of him. How’s training going?’

‘Good,’ I say, thinking of the workouts I’ve been doing

all week, partly as a way to let off steam in the build-up

to tonight, and partly so I get to kick Riley’s ass in the

physical fitness test we have to take soon. ‘Test is in two

weeks. Same day as yours.’

‘What?’ Jessa asks.

‘Your driving test. I’ve booked you in.’

Jessa stares at me. ‘What? I’m not ready.’

‘Yeah, you are. And it was the only slot they had before

I leave.’ I shrug and turn back to the stove.

‘But . . . ’

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‘If you pass, you pass,’ I say over my shoulder. ‘If you

fail, you fail. No biggie. You can take it again.’

Jessa presses her lips together and I can see she’s trying

to think up excuses, but then she nods and says, ‘OK.’

I smile to myself as I start pan-frying the salmon. ‘You

know, Riley keeps asking about the girl I’m seeing.’

I hear Jessa slide off the stool. She sidles up behind me

and slips her arms around my waist. ‘He does, huh?’

‘That thing with Didi – taking her to prom – didn’t

help. He can’t believe I’m serious.’

‘What did you tell him?’ Jessa asks.

‘That it’s going great. That I’m digging this chick. That

she’s amazing.’

She laughs against my back.

‘He wants to meet you,’ I say.

Jessa releases me and leans up against the counter. ‘My

mom asked me the other day if there was anything I

wanted to tell her.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She said I was glowing and if she didn’t know better

she’d think I was in − ’ she stops abruptly, her cheeks

flushing − ‘um . . . a relationship.’

I turn my attention back to the pan, but my heart is

beating faster all of a sudden. ‘What did you tell her?’ I

ask.‘That I was just happy school was out.’

A weight settles on my shoulders, dampening the

happiness I’d been feeling. I set the fork down on the side

and turn to face her. ‘I want to tell everyone, Jessa. I’m

sick of this.’

She stares up at me with those big green eyes and rests

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her hand against my cheek. ‘Me too,’ she says softly. ‘But

we only have two weeks. I don’t want them ruined.’

I look at her long and hard for moment before turning

back to the food.

The table’s set with candles and flowers and my mom’s

best china. My dad gave me licence to use it. He knows

exactly what I have planned − I couldn’t exactly keep it a

secret. I think he contrived the excuse of going to my sis-

ter’s, because when he told me he was spending the night

there he winked at me and told me not to burn any pans

or get anyone pregnant while he was gone. He hasn’t

mentioned anything more about telling Riley, which is a

relief, though it nags at me. It’s why I brought it up with

Jessa. But if she doesn’t want to tell him, I can’t exactly

come out with it. It’s just hard sneaking around all the

time. I want to walk down the street with her, I want to be

able to take her out to dinner and go to the beach without

being paranoid someone’s going to see us.

‘That was so amazing. You could be a chef,’ Jessa says,

pushing away her finished plate and patting her stomach.

‘That was always my fallback,’ I say, clearing the plates

to make way for dessert.

‘Your what?’ she asks, getting up to help.

‘For when I get out the corps.’

‘To become a chef?’ she asks.

I set the plates down in the kitchen. ‘To open my own

restaurant, maybe just a small cafe to start with, some-

thing cool, great coffee, awesome vibes, great music.’

Jessa leans against the countertop. ‘I can picture it

now,’ she says grinning at me.

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I forget about the dessert. I can’t stop my eyes wander-

ing over her body, barely constrained by her dress, from

starting to imagine what it will be like to undress her

later, to finally get to make love to her. I take a step

towards her and pull her towards me, holding her hands.

Now’s the time to tell her.

‘Jessa,’ I say, stroking her hair behind her ear. ‘I think

this one will be my last tour. My four years are up after

this.’

Her smile fades. ‘You’re going to leave?’ she asks.

‘Well, they have you on non-active duty for four years

and they can call you back up at any time, but I’d be out,

yeah.’

‘Really?’ she asks, and I see the start of a smile pulling

at the edge of her mouth.

‘Yeah,’ I say.

‘Why?’ she asks. ‘I thought you loved it.’

I shrug. ‘Things change. My dad’s not getting any

younger. I’ve got other dreams I want to pursue.’ I pause.

Does she realize she’s one of them? ‘I guess I got into

the marines because I was following my old man, and

because I wanted to be the best of the best, to know that I

could beat the best. And I’ve done that. I’ve served my

country, I’ve done my part. But some of the shit I’ve

seen . . . I’m tired of it. I want to start a new chapter. I

want to try staying in one place as well as one piece, and

being master of my own destiny. I guess I’m just done

with following orders and I want something new.’

‘Kit?’ she interrupts.

‘Yeah?’ I ask, realizing I haven’t drawn breath.

Jessa stares up at me solemnly. ‘Take me to bed.’

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Kit stares at me for half a second processing what I’ve

said, then without a word he takes my hand and leads me

out the kitchen and up the stairs. My legs start shaking,

half with nerves and half in anticipation of what’s to

come. I can’t believe he’s going to quit. For me. No, not

just for me, I remind myself, but I know I’m part of the

reason why, and the knowledge makes me light-headed

and light-blooded too. Is that even a thing? It feels like it

should be. My blood feels as if it’s infused with light

particles.

A life. We could actually have a life together. A normal

life. Seeing each other every day, dating like a normal

couple, maybe not even in secrecy, because I feel with Kit

beside me every day I would be brave enough to face

anything, even my father’s wrath.

At the door to his room, Kit pauses and turns to me.

‘Close your eyes,’ he says.

I look at him suspiciously. ‘Why?’

‘Because I’ve got a surprise to show you.’

‘I’ve seen it already.’ I smirk.

‘Not that. Man, you’re filthy,’ he laughs, covering

my eyes with his hand. I hear him open the door and

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then he ushers me inside his room. Finally he moves his

hand.

‘Oh my God,’ I say, staring at the brand new double

bed that’s replaced his old single one. ‘You bought a

double bed?’ I spin to face him.

‘Yeah,’ Kit answers with a smug grin. ‘A single bed

wouldn’t be big enough for all I have planned for you.’

I walk towards it. He didn’t just buy a double bed − it

would seem he also bought a thousand pillows and a

feather comforter.

‘New sheets and everything. One hundred percent

Egyptian cotton. That’s supposed to be the best,’ he says

proudly. ‘I even redecorated.’

I tear my eyes off the bed and stare around the room in

amazement. He’s not lying. He’s painted the entire room

a beautiful warm shade of white, removed the shelf with

all the trophies and replaced it with a bookshelf, and

exchanged the dresser with an antique chest of drawers.

A vase filled with wild flowers sits on the top. Candles

litter the bedside table. Tears spring to my eyes and I

know it would be pathetic and girly of me to cry over this

but I think it might just be the most romantic gesture any-

one has ever made in the history of romantic gestures.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ I stammer as Kit continues

to grin at me. Then I realize something. ‘What did your

father think?’ I ask.

‘He’s cool with it. I explained everything.’

‘Everything?’ I ask in alarm.

‘No, I don’t mean about tonight.’ He takes a step

towards me. ‘I told him I wanted this to be your room

too. When I’m away. I want you to feel like you have

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somewhere to come to. I want to be able to picture you

here, in my room. When I’m pulling an all-night shift I

want to be able to imagine you naked in my bed back

home, waiting for me.’

My mouth drops open. ‘And he’s cool with that?’ I ask.

‘Oh yeah,’ says Kit, still grinning so wide I can see his

dimple. ‘I didn’t tell him about the naked part, though.’

I poke him in the ribs.

‘He even wanted me to give you this.’ He rummages in

his pocket and pulls something out.

‘What is it?’ I ask, seeing full well that it’s a keyring

with two keys on it.

‘A key,’ he says.

‘To your house?’ I ask, staring at him in amazement.

‘Yeah. I want you to be able to come and go as you

please. And so does my dad.’ He takes my hands in his,

pressing the keys into my palm. ‘So if things ever get out

of hand at home or you need to just escape, you can come

here.’

I’m trying really hard not to cry. I swallow the lump

that’s wedged in my throat. ‘What’s this other key for?’ I

ask in a hoarse voice.

‘That’s for my truck.’

I look at him in disbelief. ‘Your truck?’

‘Yeah, I put you on the insurance. And I also installed

air con, seeing how you don’t like your hair getting all

mussed up when the windows are down.’

I stare at him, speechless. I have no idea what to say.

Finally I just reach up on tiptoe and kiss him. ‘I don’t

know what I did to deserve you,’ I whisper.

Kit pulls away so he can see my face. ‘I know it’s not

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what you signed up for. Dating a marine. Not seeing me

for twelve months.’

I kiss him to shut him up.

‘So you like it?’ he asks, gesturing around at the room.

‘I love it,’ I say.

Kit steps forward and takes my face in his hands. ‘I

love you,’ he says.

My heart, which is already beating like crazy, bursts in

my chest like a rocket. I don’t get to answer him before he

kisses me, tipping my chin up with his hand.

I melt into him, instantly undone, and loop my arms

around his neck. When he picks me up and lays me down

on the bed, I’m aware of nothing except for the cool soft-

ness of the sheets against my back, the warm solid feel of

Kit pressing me down into the mattress, and the electric

caress of his hands against my body. God, I’m so ready

for this, for him.

It becomes a struggle for air, for touch, for closeness.

An urgency takes hold of us as we tear at each other’s

clothes. I rip off Kit’s T-shirt, desperate to feel his skin

against mine, and he tugs me to my knees and pulls my

sundress off over my head in one swift move. I’m not

wearing a bra and he lets out a groan and pulls me

towards him, his hand in the small of my back, his other

hand cupping my breast. His lips find my nipple and

suck, making me cry out and grip his shoulders.

We tumble back onto the bed and I scrabble to undo his

belt. He kicks off his jeans and underwear before easing

mine off. I look up at him, breathing hard as he stands

at the end of the bed looking down on me. I’m already

ready and I reach for him, but Kit gives me a sly smile

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