"There's the irony; you gave it back to me. I'm tired of feeling like I failed, Katie. I need to prove to myself that I can do it this time."
"And you want my blessing," she said dully.
"I need it."
"You'll go no matter what I say, so why the big act?"
He came up on his knees, took her face in his hands, and held her steady. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her. "They need me. I've got experience."
"I need you. Marah needs you, but that doesn't matter, does it?"
"It matters."
She felt the heat of tears flood her eyes; they blurred her vision.
"If you say no, I won't go."
"Okay, no. You can't go. I won't let you. I love you, Johnny. You could die over there."
He let go of her, sat back on his heels, and stared at her. "Is that your answer?"
The tears fell, streaked down her cheeks. Angrily, she wiped them away. She wanted to say,Yes.Fuck, yes.That's my answer.
But how could she deny him this? Not only was it what he wanted, but down even deeper, there was something else, that tattered, ugly remnant of fear that floated to the surface sometimes, reminded her that he'd loved Tully first. It made Kate afraid to deny him anything. She wiped her eyes again. "Promise me you won't die, Johnny."
He climbed into bed and took her in his arms and while she held him as tightly as she could, already it didn't feel safe. It felt as if he were dissolving in her embrace, disappearing bit by bit. "I promise I won't die."
They were empty words, made worse by the fervor with which he spoke.
She couldn't help thinking of this morning, when she'd woken with the feeling that something would go wrong today. "I mean it, Johnny. If you die over there I'll hate you forever. I swear to God I will."
"You know you'll always love me."
The words, and the easy, victorious way he said them made her want to cry all over again. It wasn't until much later, after they'd had a romantic dinner in their room and made love and snuggled into each other's waiting arms, that she thought about what she'd said to him, the terrible, wrenching horror of her threat; the gauntlet she'd thrown down to God.
Tully eased off Grant's naked body and flopped onto the bed, still breathing hard. "Wow," she said, closing her eyes. "That was great."
"Indeed it was."
"I'm so glad you were in town this weekend. This was exactly what I needed."
"You and me both, my love."
She loved listening to his accent, feeling his naked body against hers. This was a moment to hang on to, to cling to, even, because as soon as he left her bed, she knew her unease would come back. She'd been battling it since her call to Kate. Nothing could disrupt her self-confidence or make her feel edgy like being mad at her best friend.
Grant sat up in bed.
She touched his back, thought about asking him to stay the night again, to put off his meeting, but that wasn't the kind of relationship they had. They were friends who met for sex and laughter for a few hours and then went their own ways.
Beside him, the bedside phone rang. He reached for it.
"Don't answer it. I don't want to talk to anyone."
"I gave the office this number." He picked up the phone and answered. "Hello? . . . Grant," he said. "And who are you? Oh, I see." He paused, frowning, then laughed. "I can do that." He held the phone to his naked chest and turned to Tully. "Your best friend forever says—and I quote—that you are to get your lily-white ass out of your bed and come to the damn phone. She says further that if you give her any shit on this of all days that she will beat you until you beg for mercy." He chuckled again. "She sounds serious."
"I'll take the call."
Grant handed her the phone and walked naked toward the bathroom. When he shut the door, Tully brought the phone to her ear and said, "Who is this?"
