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“We write to each other. We’re good at that already, aren’t we?”

“We are,” she said cautiously.

“Any leave we have, we use to try to see one another,” he continued.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” she said.

“Why not? It would be a chance to see one another.”

“I told you I’m planning to use most of my leave to go back home to London.”

“Maybe I could figure out a way to meet you in London then,” he said. “We could kill two birds with one stone.”

She let out a breath and nodded.

His hands slid up her arms until they rested on her shoulders. “And then, at some point, maybe we can talk about what’s next for the two of us.”

“After the war,” she agreed.

He brushed back a bit of hair that the wind had stolen from its neat, regulation roll. “Unless you didn’t want to wait.”

She searched his face. “What are you asking me?”

“I don’t want to scare you off, Izzie,” he said.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she asked.

“You are.” He dipped his head close to hers, their lips almost touching. “I’ve thought about you so much. I’ve thought about what life would be like with you if we were together, married.”

Married. Goodness. She’d never really thought that she would marry—that had been her sister’s prerogative. After all, she’d expected to run the shop as her mother had. However, during this past six months in the WAAF, a part of her had woken up. She had friends who, as far as she could tell, couldn’t execute anything more complicated than a running stitch, and one of whom was an earl’s daughter. She’d danced until the wee hours of the morning, drunk beer, and kissed a handsome American. She’d lived more of life than she had in her first twenty-eight years, and she’d surprised herself by loving every moment of it.

“I can’t wait to show you Iowa. Louis and Muriel will love you. My mother will think you’re heaven-sent,” he said.

“If I said yes,” she said with a smile, “when would we go?”

“As soon as the war is over.”

“If it ever ends,” she said with a sigh.

“Everything ends eventually, Izzie.” He grinned. “You’ll love it in Newton. I have a bit of land picked out on the edge of town where we can build a house, exactly the way you want it.”

She pulled back with a frown. “A house?”

“Or if you want to live somewhere in town, we could do that too. That might be a bit more sociable for you,” he said.

“Jack, I’m confused,” she said.

He laughed. “About what?”

“I can’t move to America.”

He smiled. “Of course you can’t. Not yet. You’re a WAAF. Can’t have you earning a reputation as a deserter. We’ll have to wait until you’re demobbed.”

She shook her head. “No, Jack, you don’t understand. I can’t move to America at all.”

“Why not?”

She eased a step back from him. “Because I have a life here.”