They should have had a life together, damn it. Instead, he’d lost two entire years. He told himself he just had to see her, one last time, and then maybe he could finally move on. Part of him suspected he’d known that was a lie even before he’d hopped a plane to Chicago.
She hadn’t been difficult to find. He’d gone first to the hospital, hoping to see her arrive for work. He’d actually watched her from the parking lot, while sitting in his rental car, feeling like a creeper yet unable to help himself.
The first sight of her, striding across the pavement in her nurse’s scrubs, had stolen the breath from his lungs. Carly, his Carly. Seeing her, he felt alive for the first time in two damn years.
He must have told himself a hundred times that he needed to go, get back on that plane and fly to Denver or LA, somewhere far enough that he wouldn’t be tempted to disrupt her life. As far as she knew, he’d died in Baghdad two years ago. Maybe it was best to let things stay the way they were.
Except his heart, that traitorous thing that still beat strong and sure inside his chest, wouldn’t let him. Somehow, he’d managed to stay away from her for three entire days, revisiting all their old haunts, hoping he’d run into her. To his utter disappointment, he hadn’t.
Instead, he’d started watching her house. He told himself he just wanted to be certain she really was happy and, most important, safe. He’d learned about her father’s and uncle’s murders—in fact, that had been one of the major factors in his decision to check on her in person. If anything happened to Carly, Micha knew he’d lose his mind.
And then he’d been standing on the sidewalk down the street from her house, trying to decide whether or not to knock on her door, and she’d come out, clearly taking a walk and enjoying the beautiful spring day. Unable to resist, he’d begun trailing after her, taking care to keep himself hidden.
Until he’d given in to impulse and stepped out of the shadows and into the sunlight. And if that wasn’t a metaphor for the part she played in his life, he didn’t know what was.
Now, moments after making love, she’d looked him in the eye and told him she was meeting her boyfriend. He’d swallowed his pride and asked her not to go, partly because he had a lot to tell her, but mostly because he couldn’t stand the thought of her with another man.
Whatever he’d expected when he’d found her again, it hadn’t been this. And while he knew he really had no right to feel betrayed, he did, anyway. The only thing that tempered those feelings was imagining how Carly must feel, believing him dead these past two years, only to find out he wasn’t. Talk about hurt and betrayal.
Back at his hotel, he took a shower and got dressed, trying to decide where to go for dinner. Lou Malnati’s Pizzeria sounded perfect, even though it, too, had been one of the places he and Carly used to go back in the day.
His cell phone rang just as he got into his car. Carly. His heart skipped a beat. He’d imagined by now she’d be having a meal with her boyfriend.
“Do you have any time this evening to talk?” she asked, defeat tingeing her voice. “It turns out my date tonight was canceled.”
While it might be wrong, Micha allowed himself to feel relieved satisfaction. “Sure,” he replied. “In fact, I was just about to drive up to Lou Malnati’s. Do you want me to pick you up?”
She went silent while she considered his invitation. In his mind, he could see her, no doubt pacing while she tried to decide if their talk should be in public or not. In the end, the lure of deep-dish won out.
“I haven’t been there in forever,” she said. “And since I haven’t eaten, pizza sounds great.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he told her. He couldn’t help but feel optimistic, not only because she was open to sharing a meal with him, but because she was also willing to hear him out.
He pulled up in front of her bungalow and parked. Carly came out before he even had time to kill the engine. Though it had only been a couple of hours since he’d seen her last, just the sight of her had his heart beating faster.
“Hi.” She got into his rental car, glancing sideways at him. “I have to say, it still feels really weird to see you.”
“Really weird isn’t the reaction I’d hoped for,” he countered.
Though she smiled faintly at that, she didn’t reply.
Navigating Chicago’s traffic felt comfortable, almost as if he’d never left. Staring out the window, appearing lost in thought, Carly didn’t talk for the rest of the drive.
He knew better than to prod her. He’d let her go at her own pace.
She waited until they’d mostly demolished a large pie before sitting back and crossing her arms. “Explain,” she demanded. “All of it, especially how you could allow me to believe you were dead.”
Taking a deep breath, he nodded. “In the military, I worked in special ops. My job was to gather intelligence.”
“Like a spy?”
“Sort of.” He tried to keep his voice expressionless, to recount the story as if it had happened to someone else. “When
