Our mornings start slow now. Chris makes coffee before I’m fully awake, his bare feet whispering across the floor while he hums under his breath. He’s always been a man who lives by routine, but somehow he’s folded me into every one of them: my mug on the counter beside his, my toothbrush next to his razor, the quiet proof of us woven through every corner of this place we callourhome.
The nights are our favorite. Dinner, laughter, too much wine. Long showers that turn into longer kisses. Falling asleep wrapped in him, his arm heavy around my waist like he’s anchoring me to him.
Some days, I still can’t believe that this is my life. That the future I wanted as a naive twenty-year-old about to graduate from college would be the life literally served up to me by fate in my thirties. I’m happy. Truly happy.
But the thing about happiness is, life always tests it. The reality of the world always finds its way back. Chris got his first call, a job in some foreign country he can’t name until his feet are on the ground for safety.
For the past week, he’s been in and out of briefings, late-night strategy sessions with Jagger, Gunnar, and Damon—his found family. His brothers in everything but blood. The house feels quieter without their laughter rumbling through it, but the change in Chris’s energy is unmistakable. He’s back in mission mode—sharp, controlled, and focused. And as much as it tightens something in my chest, I get it.
It’s who he is. It’s in his bones.
It’s the man I originally fell in love with.
And, if I’m honest, I miss that version of myself, too. The one who is chasing stories. The one whose pulse races for the rush of breaking news.
When Carl’s weekly calls went from begging me to take over the Chicago office to, “I need you in South America. On the ground to cover the political unrest and escalating violence,” I don’t hesitate.
Of course, I say yes.
And that’s how we end up standing on the tarmac at five in the morning. The sky is still streaked with bruised-pink light asthe sun peeks over the horizon, and the air is crisp from the night’s rain. My suitcase sits in the backseat. His duffel bag does, too. We’re both leaving, just not together.
When the Aegis jet comes into view, sleek black gleaming under the sunrise, I sigh. “You know I could’ve taken a commercial flight.”
He gives me that look, the one that’s all quiet command and protective instinct. “Not a chance, baby. You’re not flying halfway around the world on some beat-up airline when we’ve got the resources to do it right.”
I roll my eyes affectionately. “It’s South America, not a war zone.”
His jaw ticks, just slightly. “Doesn’t matter.”
There’s no winning with him on this. Not that I really want to.
We pull up beside the jet. The engines hum low, ready. My stomach twists into knots.
I know this is different, but the last time we said goodbye, ten years slipped through our fingers before we found our way back to each other.
I unbuckle slowly, buying seconds. “Guess this is it.”
He shuts off the ignition, turning toward me. “I know it’s not for long,” he says quietly, his eyes searching mine, “but fuck, I don’t want to say goodbye.”
My throat tightens, and I try to make light of the gravity of the situation. “You already said goodbye this morning. Twice.”
That earns me a small smirk. “I’m going to miss that sassy little mouth.”
“Not likely,” I tease, trying to hide the shakiness in my voice.
He laughs softly, but it fades quickly. I reach up, tracing the rough line of his stubbled jaw with my thumb. “Hey,” I whisper. “This isn’t goodbye.”
His hand finds my thigh, warm and steady. “Feels like it.”
“It’s just… see you soon.”
He nods, but the muscle in his jaw keeps twitching. His control slips for half a second, and I see the man beneath the well-worn mask. The one who’d burn the world to keep me safe.
I lean in, pressing a kiss to his lips. It starts gently, but he catches my chin, deepens it, pulls me closer until the world outside disappears.
When we finally break apart, I can’t tell whose breath is shaking more. He presses his forehead to mine, whispering, “I’m gonna miss you, baby.”
I smile faintly, tears welling in my eyes. “I’m going to miss you, Daddy.”
