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She smiled. “I’ve missed you.”
He sighed as he pulled into the road. “They’ve had me on the move. I’ve covered so much of East Anglia, I’m surprised I’m not dreaming of maps at this point. What about you?”
“The replacement units still haven’t come, and the other day one of the units stationed here lost another balloon.”
“How did they manage that? The things are bigger than a football field,” he said with a chuckle.
“It wasn’t secured properly and it broke away. It’s the second we’ve lost in a few weeks. They’re both probably somewhere over the North Sea,” she said.
“If the Luftwaffe hasn’t shot them down,” he said.
They drove on, chatting away about the men from his unit she’d met and the girls in the balloon unit. When she told him about Sylvia’s letters, he called Hugo a son of a bitch and then apologized for his language. When she told him about her sister’s plans to save the fashion show, he asked questions about her designs.
Finally, he turned off the road and parked next to an old coaching inn. He twisted in his seat and took her hand. “Are you sure this is okay?”
She nodded, liking the pressure of his hand on hers.
“In that case, let’s go.”
At the front desk, Jack signed the book as Sergeant and Mrs. Jack Perry and collected their key from a rosy-cheeked woman who gave Izzie an indulgent smile. Then, lifting her small bag for her, Jack led her to room twelve.
He unlocked the door and let her inside. She stepped in, taking the room in. It was large enough for a dressing table and mirror, a chest of drawers, and an old-fashioned ceramic basin and jug that she suspected would have water for washing already in it. In the middle of all of it was a double bed with a wooden headboard and a pale blue duvet spread over it.
Her eyes were fixed on the bed when she felt Jack come up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist. He kissed her on her neck, and she closed her eyes as she let her head fall back to rest against his chest.
“I’ve missed you,” he said.
She turned in his arms, tilting her face up. “I’ve missed you too.”
She expected him to kiss her then, but instead he set her back with a determined look.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said.
Her heart began to beat faster, every possible scenario racing through her head. He thought this all was a mistake. He’d just been being kind when he asked her to go away with him because he’d never thought she would say yes. He was engaged to be married. He already was married.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, her throat dry.
“The thing is, it’s really out of my hands,” he began, pacing back and forth before the foot of the bed. “I tried to say no and stop it, but there’s nothing I can do. That’s the military for you.”
“To stop what?” she asked. “Jack, you haven’t told me what’s wrong.”
He looked up and shot her a sheepish smile. “They’re sending me away.”
“What?” she asked.
“The reports I’ve been working on are done. It’s now up to the top brass in the air force and the RAF to work out which bases will be used for what and by which country. I’m being sent away to do this all over again somewhere else,” he said.
“How long have you known?” she asked.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I found out I was moving on the morning of the day I drove out to Great Yarmouth to see you. They told me yesterday it’s going to be down south. A place called Portsmouth.”
Emotion began to rise in her throat. She hadn’t known him long, but she saw such promise in him and he’d understood her enough to help her repair things with Sylvia. Surely that meant something.
“Is this supposed to be goodbye?” she asked.
“No! No.” He crossed to her, catching her hands up in his. “Izzie, listen. I’ve been going over this in my head ever since I found out I was leaving. I don’t think this should be goodbye. I don’t want it to be.”
“But what do we do?” she asked softly.
