Page 111 of If This is Love

So I was going to be here a little while longer.

But,God, I missed her so fucking much.

I absently drew circles on the laptop’s touchpad, tracing the tiny arrow on the screen with my eyes until I typed in Destination Destiny’s website in a pure reflex. Though, I’ve visited this page so many times that it automatically fills in the address when I hit the D key and takes me straight to what I want to see.

Ruth’s beautiful face.

I rewatched her video for the umpteenth time, missing and loving her more and more with every passing second, and imagining what it had been like to be with her. This shit would only happen to me. It almost felt like there was a force in the universe that was trying to keep me from fully having her in a permanent, present, in-real-life kind of way. It was like something was trying to keep her the fantasy, unbelievable, unrealistic imaginary girlfriend she’d been to me all these years. It felt like a villain had set all this up just to fuck with my head for no reason other than to fuck with my head.

Just like that fucking kid in Sinjar.

I rubbed my forehead and grabbed the pack of smokes I’d left out here. I hadn’t given up on quitting, it was just taking longer than I’d anticipated given that my world had been turned upside down at that first meeting where I realized the fantasy woman I’d made up was a living, breathing human being.

I lit one up and puffed long and slowly, contemplating pretty much everything. Particularly the fucking kid in Sinjar who fucked with my head just to fuck with my head. How if I’d never encountered that little brainwashed fleabag, I wouldn’t have lost my fucking mind when Ruth and I broke my damn bed.

A drink would be really good right now.

And since I had nowhere to go and nothing to do, I went to the kitchen and did two shots of whiskey, college-freshman style, and then I poured some over ice and went back out to the porch, bringing the bottle with me.

I left my laptop at the table and grabbed the cigarettes, moving to sit in a wicker chair that had seen better days but still had a cheery-but-faded pink floral seat cushion. And for the next two glasses, I just stared out at the expanse of pines and listened to the woods.

Gunner moseyed out onto the porch at some point and sprawled out at my feet, resting his head on one of my boots while he dozed off. The booze ushered in a fan-fucking-tastic buzz that managed to dissolve every last fuck I had about anything.

Particularly,selfies.

More specifically,video selfies.

Like the one I’d been promising Chloe I’d record for as many months as I’d known Ruth.

I could do a fuckingvideo selfie. Honestly, as long as I didn’t look at my phone, I could just pretend like I was ranting to myself, and hey! Maybe my unpredictable, hair-trigger mind would provide all kinds of great content for Chloe’s social media feeds.

So, fuck it. Here we go.

The second I tapped the button to start recording, my mind went blank. So I just started talking, and the words just kept coming.

“I’m Staff Sergeant Gabriel C. Martinelli, and I was originally brought onto this effort to manage the construction of the new facility. A long time ago, I served in the United States Marine Corps, and I’m only mentioning it because it’s the reason I wanted to be a part of this in the first place, and it’s also the reason I had to bow out. Since I was a part of it and am suddenly not a part of it, I felt like an explanation was in order because I don’t want anyone to think that I don’t wholeheartedly believe in the mission of what we’re trying to do. It’s the exact opposite. For this mission to be successful, I had to take a step away from it. My team deserves that explanation. So do the administrators. So do the women we’re serving.”

I paused for a second, my eyes flicking to the timer in the corner of the screen, watching the seconds roll over as I braced for something bad. Explaining this shit the way I had a nagging itch to explain it was going to be something bad. I was about to do it willingly. I’d avoided therapy for this exact reason, but right now, I just wanted to explain myself more than anything else. I knew Ruth would watch it as soon as Chloe uploaded it, and that was suddenly the whole point. I just wanted Ruth to know why I did what I did.

Gunner pushed up from the floor and sat up, resting his chin on my knee, and I stroked his head, clearing my throat.

“Yeah, so,” I said a lot more casually than I felt, “here’s my story.”

29

RUTH

FRENCH QUARTER, NEW ORLEANS

“Oh no, oh no, ohnooooo…” Liza whimpered, clutching her chest, nose turning pink at the sight of Chloe standing on a pedestal in the center of a bridal boutique wearing a simple, yetstunninggown. “I’m going to cry. I can’t stop myself.”

“Sis, if you need to cry, justcry,” Skye said with a scoff. “Don’t let the guys make you feel bad about how often you cry.” She waved her champagne flute through the air. “They aren’t even here right now.”

Liza simply shook her head and waved her hands as she stepped back from where she was adjusting the train. “God,I’m such a sucker for an epic love story.”

Chloe simpered, pinching the ivory lace at her hips and pulling it a little. “Do Luke and I really have anepiclove story, though?” She dropped her arms at her sides and angled herself away from the mirror, looking over her slender shoulder at the reflection of her bare back. “I mean,Ithink it’s epic, but that’s because it’s mine. That’s hardly an objective perspective.”

“Oh it istooepic.” Liza sat in the chair next to me and picked up her champagne. “He’s loved you hiswhole life—”

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