“I really did like her, and I felt bad for her. I remember what it was like for my dad when he was sick, and nobody needs to go through that alone. I had already been thinking about retiring when my time was up in a year and a half. One night, I told her we could get married and we did. She’d have insurance, and I liked the idea of having someone at home waiting for me. I thought it was fine. I thought we could make it work.”

I felt like throwing up. “What happened?”

“She waited about two months before she went to the doctor because she was worried about the insurance not covering her, and it was benign. She was fine.”

“And then what?”

“You sound awake again, hmm?” His fingertips tickled the sensitive skin south of my earlobe for one moment in time. “Thing is, Peach, you can shoot the shit with someone and have a good time, and have that be the one and only thing you have in common. That was the same thing with us. She wasn’t the great love of my life. I fucked up thinking I knew this person I’d only met a few months before we married. I didn’t miss her while I was gone, and she sure as hell didn’t miss me while I was away. I’d e-mail her and two weeks would go by before she’d reply. I’d call her phone, she wouldn’t answer.

“I found out from one of my COs that she had been all in love with her ex. I’ll never forget how he looked at me like he was surprised I hadn’t known she was hung up on him when we got together. Everyone who knew her knew that. He was the great love of her life. I was just this asshole she had used for insurance who was a fill-in for somebody else whose shoes I could never fill, no matter how hard I tried.”

His hands paused in my hair for a moment as he let out a breath. “I’ll be honest. I didn’t try that hard. Not even close. Absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder if there’s nothing there to begin with. By the time I got back, a year later, things were not close to being right. That happens a lot to people in the military when they’re deployed, you know. I moved back in to our house on base, with her and her kid, and we made it two months before I packed up and left. She told me out right one day that she didn’t love me and never would.

“The last thing I told her was she was going to waste her life away waiting for somebody who didn’t love her enough to want to be with her. It was the wrong fucking thing to say to a pissed-off woman.” He kind of chuckled almost bitterly. “And she said to me: You don’t know anything about love if you aren’t willing to wait for it. Wait for it. Like I was just killing time for her. I didn’t see her again until… a few months ago. Right after you moved in.”

Yeah, I knew what he was talking about. I’d overheard that conversation. Awkward.

“You didn’t try to divorce her?”

“I’ve been trying. She wanted half of my shit, and I wasn’t going to agree to that. She’s been drawing it out for almost three years. When I finally saw her again recently, she asked me to sign the divorce papers, that she didn’t want anything from me anymore. I heard from a buddy still in the service that her ex had split from the woman he’d been married to, and that they were getting back together.” He let out a disbelieving noise. “I wish them the very fucking best. I hope they’re happy together after all the shit they put so many people through. If they wanted each other bad enough, they deserve it—fucked-up love and all.”

I tried to imagine all of that and couldn’t. It was unbelievable. “Your life sounds like something out a soap opera, you know that?”

Dallas laughed, loud. “Tell me about it.”

I smiled, cheek still on my hand. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Is that why you were so weird with me there for a while? You thought I was going to do the same?”

“The same? No. I’m not that fucked up. I know my ex was a special case, and if she wasn’t, I’ll pray for the son of a bitch who gets stuck with another woman just like her. I’m tired of being used, Diana. I don’t mind helping somebody out, and I never will, but I don’t want to be taken advantage of. It’s easier to do things on your terms than on someone else’s. I don’t want to give anyone the power over my life any more than I’ve already given her. I should’ve known better than to do what I did, but I learned my lesson.”

“Don’t marry someone unless you know you love them a whole lot?” I tried to joke.

He tugged on my hair a little. “Basically. Don’t marry somebody unless you’re sure they’ll push you around in a wheelchair when you’re old.”

“You should make a questionnaire with that on there for any woman you end up with in the future. Make it an essay question. How do you feel about wheelchairs? Specifically pushing them around.”

Dallas tugged again, his laugh loose. “I just don’t wanna be with a woman who doesn’t care about me.”

I ignored the weird sensation in my belly. “I’d hope not. That seems obvious.”

“Spend three years of your life married to someone who doesn’t know your birthday, and you learn real quick where you fucked up.” The knees on the side of my shoulders seemed to close in on me a little. “I’m ready to move on with my life with someone who doesn’t want to be with anyone else but me.”

I told myself I wasn’t going to be that sap who sighed all dreamy, imagining herself being that person. And I wasn’t. I wasn’t. Instead, I made sure my voice wasn’t whispered or anything like that as I told him, “You have a point. I hope you get your divorce settled soon. I’m sure you’ll find someone like that eventually.”