Purple Hearts(28)



That’s right. The plan. Whenever anyone seemed skeptical, we were supposed to act in love. “We can’t get all hot and heavy right away,” I whispered back. “It’s weird.”

Cassie leaned closer, rubbing her hand up my thigh. “You know what else will be weird? Jail.” Hot blood rushed from my head to a place it should not go, not right now.

“Fine,” I said, making sure to take her hand and put it on the table, where everyone could see.

Our server, a skinny younger guy with gages in his ears, shouted over the din, “What can I get y’all to drink?”

“Water’s fine,” I called.

“Me, too,” Cassie said.

“Seriously?” Hill, the corporal, was looking at us, his blond eyebrows raised with surprise. “Water, Private?”

“Come on, Morrow,” Armando said, lifting his beer. “Last night of freedom!”

I could go for a bump, I thought again. The same thought, like a record player. I shook it off and looked at Cassie, as if for approval.

“You’ve got an early morning, babe,” Cassie said, bright, unnatural.

“We all have an early morning, sweetheart,” Corporal Hill said. “Come on.”

I saw Cassie’s lip curl.

“I’m good, sir, thanks,” I said, trying to sound like I meant it.

Gomez’s husband knocked over a glass with a bang, and Hill’s attention went elsewhere.

One round down, I couldn’t help thinking. We were only two people out of eleven. There was no way they could care about us for long. Beside me, Cassie was listening to Clark’s wife tell her about their honeymoon. Cassie cooed and awwed at a description of mosquito curtains. Under the table, her leg was twitching.

While the rest of the group ordered another round, I checked in. “Why do you have that voice on?”

“What voice?”

I looked at her like, you know what I mean.

“I thought it seemed nice and . . . wifely.”

I almost spit out my water, laughing.

She shrugged, looking panicked. “What? I don’t know.”

“It’s cute.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t even.”

“No, I mean, cute, like the sound of a music box in a horror movie cute.”

“Gross.”

Suddenly, my name rose from the other end of the table. Shit. Another gauntlet. Cassie straightened her back.

“And over here we’ve got Morrow, the king of romance.” Armando was gesturing toward me, shaking his head. “Cassie,” he continued. She tensed next to me. “Cassie, right?”

“Right,” she said. Her voice was clipped.

“How the hell,” Armando said, his words stringing together. “How did you guys get from arguing about Davies’s drunk ass to a wedding chapel?”

All other conversations at the table died. Cassie cleared her throat. I felt Frankie’s eyes burning the side of my face, willing us forward. The story. It was time for the story. The story would make everything better. We had talked about this. Something about a walk by the river. “I took her for a walk by the river,” I said.

“He came . . . ,” Cassie started, and Armando whooped, interrupting her. “He came back,” Cassie continued, trying to keep her voice light. “To ask me out.”

“Exactly,” I said, almost too much like I had just remembered the answer to a question on a game show.

“And, and . . . ,” Cassie stumbled. I could feel her trying too hard to pick up the emotion I had dropped. She put her hand near her breast, for emphasis, like a soap opera. “And since he was deploying so soon, we wanted to make sure we had each other when he got back. I’m his rock.”

We hadn’t said anything about rocks. “She’s my rock,” I repeated, trying to make it sound like it wasn’t a question.

I couldn’t even look at Cassie, but I had to. The plan. The tip of her tongue hit her lips, waiting. I knew what I had to do. I resisted nervous laughter. I leaned in, open mouth landing on hers, which was closed. It wasn’t so much a kiss as it was just wet, and off target. We had done a much better job at city hall.

“Ow-w-w-w! Slow it down,” Armando said. “No, wait, I’ll just watch.”

Clark cleared his throat. “Still hilarious, though.”

“What is?” I could hear Gomez asking as we unlocked our lips.

“That y’all were at each other’s throats one night, and proposing the next.” Clark’s expression was doubtful. Shit.

“Means there’s a lot of passion, right?” I added.

“Sure.” Clark shrugged. “Whatever works.”

Cassie put her hand on mine. I leaned close to her face again, planting my lips on her cheek. I could feel her jaw harden. We’d pretty much fucked that up. I imagined Frankie was doing everything not to kick us under the table.

The food came. We repeated the story. We made out again, but better.

Elena stood with her glass of white wine, and the attention turned toward her. Cassie and I simultaneously let out our breath. This was almost over. We had almost made it through.

“Y’all, I’d like to say something real quick,” Elena called out.

“Oh, boy,” Gomez said, rolling her eyes at her husband. “Here come the toasts.”

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