Duty(72)

The man nods, holding out his hand. “Carl Simpson, and this is my wife, Angie. Are you Lindsey?”

I shake, smiling before Carl pulls me into a hug, and I feel the same warm general goodness that I've always felt from his son. When he releases me, I step back, and I see that all of us have tears in our eyes. I kneel, taking Lance's hand. “Honey . . . these are your grandparents.”

Lance looks up in shy surprise, looking at Carl and then Angie, who kneels down. “Honey . . . I know we haven't met, but I'm very happy to meet you. I'd like a chance to get to know you.”

It's the perfect thing to say. Lance goes over and hugs his grandmother, who cries harder. Before we can say anything else, a general buzz goes through the crowd as the hangar doors open and the first troops start to come in.

Each new face that comes in is agony as we search the crowd eagerly for any sign of Aaron, but with four chartered airliners needed to ferry all the brigade from Germany to New York, even if they're staggered, that's a lot of people to move through. And I can expect, officers come last. First in, last out. That's the officer's way.

That's part of the reason I feel nervous as well, I know. The brigade commander had the planes land in rank order, and as an officer, Aaron's on the last plane. Almost everyone around me in uniform is also an officer, and I have to expect by now that some of the people at Fort Drum have heard about . . .

“DADDY!” Lance yells, pulling free of my hand and running toward the door of the hangar. My heart catches as I see Aaron jog a few steps and scoop Lance up into a huge hug, and then I'm running toward him, my six months’ full stomach barely holding me back as I make my way to him. Aaron sees me coming and sets Lance down, grabbing me and swinging me around to absorb my momentum before kissing me, and I feel whole again.

“Aaron . . .” I start when we can breathe again, but I stop when he goes down on his right knee, taking my hand. “Aaron . . .”

“Lindsey,” he says, without pausing and wasting even a second. “Lindsey, will you marry me?”

His eyes are so calm and assured, and I guess it's just a formality, really. We've known this moment would be coming for five months, and now that it's here, the impact isn't lessened one bit. I nod, wiping my eyes with my free hand, and clear my throat. “Yes. Of course, I will.”

There are a few cheers around us at my words, and I realize a cameraman is snapping photos of the whole thing. Aaron stands up and hugs me again, and Lance latches onto our legs, our family complete.



“I didn't think your Mom was going to stop crying.” I laugh as we lie in bed, the hotel room large and luxurious. In some ways, it’s appropriate that we don't have our quarters set up on Fort Drum yet. So many of the big moments in our relationship have been in hotel rooms. Starting tomorrow, Aaron's going to take a week to get us set up at Drum and arrange for his things to be moved here from Bragg, and for my stuff to be moved out of storage where I'd sent it up here. In the end, I put my faith in Aaron, and I've been so richly rewarded. I'm still feeling like the world is spinning.

“Yeah, when we asked if they could watch Lance for the night, I thought she was going to start sobbing,” Aaron says, lying on his side and stroking my belly. It's not that large yet, but I’m feeling our daughter kick from time to time, and I know Aaron's fascinated by the whole thing. “I'm sure she knows what we have in mind, but that's not important.”

“No, it isn't,” I purr, enjoying the touch of my man on my skin. He's not wearing anything. I'm not either, and the sense of natural closeness is thrilling me to my core. It's not time yet, but it'll come in when it is. “Can you show me the scar? I know Lance was so curious, but you can't exactly pull your pants up at dinner.”

Aaron laughs lightly and nods, sitting up. He scoots his butt back toward the head of the bed and pulls his right leg up higher, showing me the scar. It's not as bad as I'd feared, but there is a noticeable sort of groove in the muscle under his skin, like there's something missing. “Is it always going to be this way?”

“Probably, but it doesn't hurt anymore,” Aaron says, reaching down and idly stroking my hair. “I have to thank the Colonel for that. Working in the S-4 shop, it was just enough walking to let me get it back into shape without overstraining it and making a bunch of scar tissue in the muscle itself.”

“Are you going to miss being an XO?” I ask, looking up at him. Aaron shrugs, looking me in the eyes, then he leans down and kisses my forehead.

“It doesn't matter if I'm a S-4, S-2, XO, PL, or any other alphabet soup name the Army can think of. As long as I'm here with you, right now, that's all I care about. Actually, I got something for you, too. Used my one-day layover in Germany to good effect.”

I tilt my head, curious, as Aaron reaches over to the nightstand, and as he does, I notice his cock, lying thick and wonderful on the inside of his thigh. I chuckle, knowing whatever it is Aaron wants to give me, I think it can wait, and I reach out, running my fingers along the soft, smooth shaft and cupping his balls, humming. “Later.”

Aaron freezes and looks down, his hand still outstretched as I stroke his cock again, smiling as it quickly starts to harden. “Uh . . . Lindsey, it's been months for me. Like, two-minute trigger time.”