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Isobel had never been so nervous in her life.
It was her bachelorette party just a week before her wedding and she was all the way in Texas. Noah was nice and he was doing and he was good for her. There was no reason to be nervous. Most of the time she wasn't. Typically, she was nice and good and happy. But sometimes she just couldn't help but hear a little voice telling her to get away while she still could.
"Oh, stop worrying," Krista, the daughter of one of her mom's friends, said.
Most of the people attending were daughters of her mom's friends. Those were the only acquaintances she had. She typically relied on Michael and Max's company, but her mother had thrown this party and she said it was bad enough that she wanted Michael to be her Maid of Honor (a title he hadn't even whined about changing) and that she needed an all girl party. But this all girl party only maid her feel more alone and more nervous.
"He's rich and he's handsome and he's nice, that's basically the holy trinity of guys around here," Krista went on. Isobel forced a laugh. She was right. Most guys didn't have two of those attributes, let alone all three. "Your just having cold feet."
"It's normal," Haleigh said, "I was terrified before my wedding. I thought about leaving, like, a million times."
"Exactly," Lacy added, "I still have second thoughts. It's normal."
But it didn't feel normal. Why should it be scary to marry someone who you're 100% sure about? That didn't seem like it made sense. Besides, Isobel was still young. She was barely 23, she had time. Was she rushing? Should she wait?
As if one cue, a group of Navy men walked into the hotel's bar. She knew there was a base nearby, but she hadn't expected to see a familiar face amongst them. Gregory Manes, a boy she went to school with, stood a little bit taller than most of the group. He had that familiar kind smile and almost instantly caught her eye. His cheeks turned a little red at the eye contact and he looked away.
"Ooh, maybe we could get them to buy us drinks," Krista suggested as she deliberately gave a flirty look their way. She caught the eye of one of the men beside Greg. Isobel only had her eyes on one man.
They eventually got them to come over to them, the small group of Navy Sailors fitting in with her bridal troupe. Isobel didn't talk much at all though. Instead, she spent the next hour or so staring at Greg. Every little shy smile he gave and how desperate he seemed to not stare back at her eased that nervousness in her mind. But not because she was sure she was marrying the right man.
Slowly, one of the girls would retire for the night, most of them going alone and their respective Sailor finding another girl to entertain them. That happened all the way until Isobel was left alone with Greg. They both stayed silent.
She could hear her inner Max bitching about her friends leaving her by herself in a bar and her inner Michael telling her she needed to practice her powers for when creepy guys talked to her. She couldn't help but smile as she thought about Max sneaking mace onto her key ring and Michael hiding a switchblade in her purse. The thought almost let her miss how flustered Greg looked at the sight of her smiling. That was new and unbearably sweet.
Then all she could think of was Michael's cynical speech of settling down without enough exploring.
"So, you're getting married," Greg said. It was the first thing he'd said that was just saying he didn't want a drink to his friends earlier in the night. Isobel breathed in deep and leaned forward. She hadn't drank either.
"Apparently," she sighed. She stared at him, drinking him in and wondering if a man like him would be willing to do something so wrong with her. But she was stressed and unsure and she needed something. She needed to feel something other than... this. Was it normal to feel so lonely just days before your wedding?
Besides, he was a sailor, she would never see him again.
“Well, I’m happy for you, Isobel,” Greg said, giving that sweet little smile. It mirrored the one from high school. He was a senior when she was a freshman, so he hadn’t given her any attention, but she remembered being unable to take her eyes off him in the halls. There was just something about him.
And, considering he still knew her name, maybe there was something about her.
“Do you wanna do something with me that’s wrong and might leave us both feeling guilty in the morning?” she asked, throwing caution to the wind. She was tired of caution and tired of the emptiness. Greg’s face didn’t change, but his eyes scanned over every inch of her that he could see above the table.
“Like what?”
Isobel breathed in deep, wondering what his neck would look like covered in lipstick prints.
“Come up to my room?”
She didn’t expect him to say yes so easily, but he did and Isobel gave him a smile that was more thankful than she would admit. She hated how desperate she was to feel something. Anything.
Greg told his friends that he was walking her to her room and then they went towards the elevator. They stood a foot apart the whole ride up, Greg’s foot tapping the floor while her fingers tapped in tandem against her thigh. When did elevators get so slow?
“Don’t most girls share one big room on their bachelorette trips or is that just, like, the movies?” Greg asked as they walked down the hall at a normal walking pace. Okay, maybe slightly faster than normal.
“This may come as a shock to you, but the girls I’m here with aren’t my friends,” she admitted. Greg’s mouth formed an ‘o’ and he nodded.
“That would explain why they left you by yourself with me. Isn’t sticking with your friends, like, rule one of girl code?” Greg asked. Isobel smiled at him as she pulled out the key card.
“I wouldn’t know.”
They both slipped into her hotel room, the king sized bed all made up with fresh sheets. The door closed behind them and then things became a little more real. Greg didn’t make a move towards her, hovering by the door as if he was scared to push too far despite the fact that she pulled him up here because she wanted him to.
Isobel decided she would have to make the first move which was fine. She didn’t mind that. She kicked off her heels and put her clutch on the little table before turning to him and holding out her hand. He gave a confused smile.
“Jacket,” she instructed.
“Oh, right,” Greg laughed, shrugging it off easily to hand to her. She laid it on the table neatly beside her clutch and then turned to him. The Navy t-shirt beneath it seemed to hug his arms tight in just the right way while also just making him seem down to Earth.
The thought made her laugh.
“What?” he asked, smiling too as he dared to step closer. Isobel touched him for the first time, her hands laying on his hips and tugging him close. Greg smiled wider, so genuine and so kind and it was for her. Sometimes when Noah smiled at her, it felt like it was hollow. This was anything but.
“I just can’t believe I’m doing this,” Isobel admitted, pushing his hands up and over his chest. She couldn’t wait to get his shirt off.
“Are you sure you want to?” he checked. She locked eyes with him as she moved her hands to the back of his neck. He was warm and only getting warmer as his cheeks reddened.
“I really am.”
Isobel pulled him down to her and there was no going back as their lips connected. Her heart seemed to skip a beat or seven and something unknown shot through her body. Maybe it was desire, maybe it was something else entirely. She wasn’t sure.
She pressed flush against him, desperate for as much contact as she could have. His large hands splayed across her back and held her just as close. She never felt so desperate for contact. There was something about him and, now that she had a small taste, she didn’t understand how she was supposed to stop.
It was good. Too good.
“I-I think we’re drunk,” Greg said, trying to explain why this felt so right when it was sufficiently not. His simple little kiss seemed to light her on fire. That wasn’t normal.
“I’m not drunk,” she admitted, knowing she didn’t have a drop of alcohol in her system, “Are you?”
“No,” he breathed, voice a couple notes too high. Isobel smiled slightly, a laugh bubbling in her chest. She couldn’t remember a time someone had made her feel so good.
And it was just a kiss.
Isobel led his face back to hers, kissing him again and he smiled through it. Her hands went to his belt as his cupped her face. She usually didn’t like when people touched her face, but, when it was him, she didn’t mind. Maybe she would mind if she ended up with a pimple on her wedding day, but that wasn’t now and that wasn’t this.
She slipped her fingertips beneath the waistband of his jeans after unbuttoning them, pushing them down just a little. She kept them on just enough to palm him over his jeans and enjoyed the way his breathing got a little heavier, still kissing her like his life depended on it. Isobel liked that.
Greg slid his hands from her face down over her arms then, starting from her thighs, he dragged them up her sides. Every nerve in her body felt so ungodly aware of him. She wanted more.
Isobel pushed him away and his eyes were wide, scared he’d done something wrong. She gave him and smile and she hiked up her dress, pulling it over her head and throwing it to the side. He quickly got the memo and ditched his shirt. She grinned at the sight.
With his shirtless body and his jeans undone and hanging low on his hips, he looked straight out of fucking magazine. Or, he would if he was posed. Isobel moved back in with a purpose regardless.
Strong hands pressed into the bare skin of her back, warm and all-encompassing. He held her so close that it brought her to her toes and she wrapped her arms around his neck. One of his hands slid down, getting a good feel of her thigh and her ass and she was more sure than ever that her entire nervous system had been rewired to react specifically to him. Oh, she was obsessed.
“Hold on,” Greg told her, voice lower than it’d been earlier. Isobel smirked, pulling away just enough to get a good look at his face. He was gorgeous. And he wanted her. She did as he said and he crouched down just enough to grab the back of her thighs, picking her up with a level of ease that made her stomach twist.
Greg carried her the few steps it took to the bed and they fell onto it. The night dragged on, full of touches and kisses and soft, obsessive laughs.
It was strange for something so good to come so easily. Each touch seemed to convince Isobel a little bit more that he was wired to please her. She hardly had to think or direct him, he just knew. He took her apart with ease and removed all her worries and fears.
For the first time in a long time, her mind was clear. So clear that, when he fell to the bed all fucked-out and boneless with his jaw slack as he remembered how to breathe, she didn’t kick him out of her bed like she was supposed to. This was a one night thing, something to make her feel less like she was making a mistake, something to remind her what it was like to not feel numb--which may be why she found herself moving closer.
Isobel watched him as she touched him again, this time a hand on his damp chest. He opened his eyes and tilted his head her way. Greg smiled at her, pure as breath itself. His eyes were adoring in an innocent way that clashed with the things she’d just done to him. She was utterly obsessed.
“You are...” he breathed, somehow smiling wider, “God, I...”
Isobel hummed, “I know how great I am, don’t worry.”
Laughter bubbled out of him and he turned on his side again, leaning in for a kiss. Just like before, they it too well against each other. She made the same stupid choice for the millionth time that night and pressed closer, draping her leg over his hip. His hand clutched her calf like it was sacred and pulled her until their their legs locked together.
“Stay,” Isobel said, her fingers dancing over his sharp jawline. It wasn’t a request; it was an order. He smiled like the sun and turned his face to kiss her palm.
“Of course.”
Greg fell asleep half on top of Isobel, his face pressed against her collarbone. His body was covered in scars, but he was still soft and cuddly in contrast. The weight of him lulled her to sleep in a way she couldn’t quite comprehend.
They woke up early the next morning and kissed. They drank shitty coffee together and kissed. They showered the scent of each other off and they kissed. Isobel put on his jacket for him and kissed him one last time.
She knew she could never see him again, but she would feel his hands on her skin forever.
-
Isobel wiped her mouth with the back of her hand after she threw up for the second time that day.
“Say the word and I’ll get us the fuck out of here,” Michael told her as he rubbed her back, “I’ll cause a big scene, you know I can.”
She gave him a thankful smile, but she still shook her head and just held out her hands. He pulled her to her feet and fixed her with a look that just offered to get her out of his wedding again. He could feel how fucking terrified she was and there was no use in hiding it.
“I’m gonna be okay, this is just cold feet,” Isobel said. He didn’t seem so sure. “I just need to get it over with. Check and make sure I didn’t get anything on my dress.”
Michael gave a grim smile and did as she said, sifting through ruffles and layers just in case she got something on it. When they were sure it was fine, he fished out an unopened travel toothbrush, travel toothpaste, and a flask full of acetone from his pocket. She raised an eyebrow as she took it graciously.
“Call it sibling intuition,” he bragged. Isobel rolled her eyes and pulled him into a tight hug.
“Thank you,” she said, “But you can go now.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I need a few minutes to be alone.”
Michael double checked that that was indeed what she needed before he kissed her forehead and left her alone. With a heavy breath, she downed the flask and then turned to the sink and brushed her teeth before touching up her makeup. She had paid a makeup artist nearly $500 to do her face and now she’d ruined it.
After that, she walked over to the main part of her dressing room, standing in front of the full body mirror. She looked pretty. She was objectively pretty. Her hair was done, her makeup was done, her dress was big and expensive. And yet she felt like shit.
Not for the first time in the last week, she found herself thinking about Greg. The way he touched her and smiled at her like she was the most brilliant thing to ever happen. But, of course, that had to be her nerves talking. Noah loved her and thought she was brilliant too. He would do anything for her. And that’s what she wanted.
But then the door to her dressing room opened and she found herself getting confused all over again.
Greg stood there, dressed all fancy in his Navy dress blues. He looked her up and down slowly with his lips parted slightly. Isobel didn’t know what to do. She took him in just the same, her heart thudding wildly in her chest. Why the hell was he here? How was he here?
“Wow,” Greg breathed, taking a step inside and letting the door close behind him, “You look beautiful.”
“I know.” Greg smiled wider, nodding slightly.
“I know you know,” he laughed, coming even closer, “But... God.”
“How did you even get here? How did you know where and when?” she asked softly, her veins pulsing beneath her skin as he got closer to her. She wanted to touch him so badly but that was so wrong.
“I have my ways,” he said, stepping into her space and letting her dress hug his legs, “Had a day off. I needed to see you.”
“Yeah?” Isobel asked, trying and failing to push away that giddy feeling. His hands reached for her waist and she couldn’t find it in her to tell him no. She only found it in her when he started leaning in for a kiss. “Don’t mess up my lipstick.”
Greg grinned and nodded, moving to instead press a pair of kisses on her shoulder and the crook of her neck. There was no reason for those kisses to feel so goddamn good. She wanted to melt into him.
“What are you doing here though?”
Greg seemed to remember what he was there for and stood up straight, his chin raised with a purpose.
"Don't marry him."
Isobel's eyes widened and she shoved Greg away from her. Even though he was all broad shouldered and beautiful, he seemed to be lacking in intelligence. But his eyes were wide and determined.
"I'm literally about to walk down the aisle!"
"Are you 100% you want to spend the rest of your life with him?" Greg asked. Isobel didn't answer fast enough. "Exactly. Don't marry him."
"I am not leaving him for some guy I just met!"
“I’m not asking you to leave him for me, I’m asking you to leave him for yourself.”
Before Isobel could come up with anything else to say, someone knocked on the door of her dressing room.
"Isobel? Are you okay in there?" Ann Evans asked. Isobel and Greg both had wide eyes full of panic.
"Um, yeah, give me one minute!" Isobel called before turning her attention back to Greg as she hissed, "Hide."
"Hide?" he repeated softly. Isobel scanned the room quickly but sadly came up with no hiding spots for an average sized person, much less the over 6 foot Navy sailor.
So she did what any logical person would do and shoved him onto the ground, stuffing him beneath the poofy layers of her dress. A quick look in the mirror proved that it hid him easily as long as she ignored his hot breath against her thighs.
"Come in!"
Her mother came in hesitantly with a smile on her face, closing the door behind her. Isobel stood still and Greg was just as frozen, but he was breathing and that was enough to make her brain short circuit.
“Max told me you were having second thoughts and I wanted to make sure you’re not going to be making a run for it,” Ann said not-so-jokingly. Isobel forced a smile and nodded. Ann was the one who told her to go through with this in the first place. He was nice and rich, she’d pointed out, and it apparently doesn’t get better than that.
“I’m not, I’m fine, I just needed a minute alone,” Isobel said. Greg’s hand carefully laid on her leg, rubbing up and down in effort to console her. He clearly had no idea how much his touch fucked her up.
“You look beautiful,” her mother said, smiling at her, “And you’re going to look even more beautiful with that ring on your finger.” Greg’s forehead rested on the back of her leg, his fingers tucking beneath the garter on her thigh.
“I know, Mom.”
“And maybe you’ll come around and make friends after you quit your job,” Ann pressed. Isobel furrowed her eyebrows, suddenly forgetting that she needed her to leave immediately.
“Quit my job? I’m not quitting,” Isobel insisted. Her mom gave her one of those smiles that said she didn’t believe her. “I’m not, Mom. I’ve just started my own business, I’m not giving up just because I’m married.”
“You need to focus on being a wife now,” she said, “And thinking about children.”
“I--” Isobel started, feeling a little taken aback and confused on why she was seemingly trying to ruin her wedding day. A pair of lips pressed to the back of her leg, clearly trying to give her some form of comfort. The worst part was that it worked. “Mom, can we talk about this later?”
“I just think this is important for you to think about,” Ann said.
“I know, Mom, just, please,” Isobel said, shaking her head, “Not right now, okay?”
Ann nodded, “Okay. Later. I would hug you but I don’t want to mess up your makeup. Or mine.”
“Okay.”
She watched until she was gone before she basically pushed Greg out from beneath her dress. He fell to the floor and looked up at her with big, puppy eyes.
“Are you alright?” he asked, voice soft and sincere. And she wasn’t alright. Not one bit.
So perhaps she did a little bit of a reckless thing by dropping to the floor on top of him, desperate to feel good again. His large hand pressed to her back and one touched the side of her face as she moved down for a kiss. She didn’t care about her lipstick or her makeup, she only cared about the way he held her close and with a purpose.
They laid on the floor for a few minutes, sharing kisses as he whispered promises that it would be okay in between each. He sounded so sincere.
“You’re marrying him, aren’t you?” Greg asked, careful not to run his fingers through her carefully styled hair as he moved it over her shoulder.
“You heard my mom, I have to,” she said simply. He sighed softly, but didn’t argue.
“Okay. I’ll still be here.”
She melted into him even more. She laid against him just a few minutes more before she had to get up and fix her face.
Greg was gone before she walked down the aisle with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes.
-
Newly wedded bliss only lasted so long.
The honeymoon was nice, the first few weeks were nice. It reminded Isobel why she agreed to be with Noah in the first place. But the problem was, Noah never stopped being nice. It was Isobel who stopped feeling things again. She always found herself disinterested and numb to the point she was beginning to think there was something more going on than a marriage she was too unprepared for. Did depression medication work on aliens?
She wondered when she was going to see Greg again more often than she should and, on more than one occasion, found herself regretting never swapping phone numbers. But he was in Texas almost two hours away at his naval base and she could never guess when he would be around.
That is, until she got a phone call from an unknown number.
“Evans Events, this is Isobel, how can I help you?” she recited, using her best customer service voice. She was still trying to get her business off the ground and, well, she had to be super nice for that to happen.
“You can help me by comin’ to a Motel 6 an hour outside of Roswell,” Greg said, his voice alone making her knees feel weak with gratitude, “Can you do that?”
Isobel looked at the clock. It was noon, Noah would be getting home at six. As long as she was home before that, there would be no problems.
“Meet you there at one?” she asked.
“I’ll be there.”
Isobel basically ran to her car.
The drive was agonizingly long, but it was worth it. Greg had texted her the address and room number right after the call had ended. She parked outside the room and was damn near giddy as she walked up to the room. It was the first time in a week that she’d felt happy. It was like he knew she needed him.
Greg opened it after the first knock, looking stunning in civvies and a smile that had been crafted specifically for her. She stepped inside and right into his arms. She bypassed a hello, preferring a kiss that brought her senses back to life. She wanted to bury herself in his lips.
“Hey,” he breathed as the kiss ended and he brushed her hair behind her ear, “You look beautiful.”
“So do you,” Isobel told him, reaching out to smooth his eyebrows before touching his lips. He smiled that sweet smile. It was electric.
“I missed you,” he admitted and wasn’t that insane? This was only the third time they’d met like this, the third time they’d spoken. So why did she miss him too?
“Take me to bed,” she told him instead. He didn’t need to be told twice.
Isobel figured she would never fully understand the reason why she couldn’t let go of him or why they fit so well. There was just a draw between them that was addictive.
Which is why it became a thing. It started as something that would happen every other week, two weeks apart stewing with only a text or two. A couple months into that, she discovered Snapchat and it became easier to talk more. That made it harder to stay away. So they started meeting every week, everyday that Greg had off and Isobel morphed her schedule to fit his. She wanted him always.
But all good things come to an end.
A week after her first wedding anniversary, Isobel found herself tangled in the sheets with Greg, laughing as she rid his chest of excess icing. It was his birthday; it seemed fitting share a cupcake that ended up more on his chest and on her tongue while his hands were busy being tied to the bed. But now his hands were free and caressing her skin like he always did. Like she was special.
“Did you even get a good bite? It was custom,” she admitted with a soft laugh as she scooped off the last bit of icing from the dip of his collar and pressed it to his lips. He licked it off graciously. But there was something off about him.
“Yeah. I did, thank you,” he said softly. She tilted her head, rubbing his chest softly.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, giving an exaggerated pout to lighten the mood. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes and that was horrifically uncharacteristic. She felt the air shift into something more serious.
“I don’t know how to make it sound good,” he sighed, “So I’ll just say it. I’m getting reassigned to a base in Cuba. Guantanamo Bay.”
A startled laugh bubbled out of her. “Is that a fucking joke?” But it very clearly wasn’t. “Say no.”
“That’s not really how that works, Isobel. I’m not high-ranking or anything and I only have a pretty useless teaching degree. I have to go into active duty,” he said. She pulled away, her heart slamming in her chest. She didn’t want him to go any further than he already was. He was her little piece of happiness, her only thing that was hers. He couldn’t leave. This... this wasn’t supposed to be so temporary.
Or, was it?
“You can’t go,” she told him. He gave her those puppy eyes, but they only hurt her this time. She turned her body away from him.
“Iz,” he said softly.
“When are you leaving?”
“In a few days.”
“When are you coming home?”
“I don’t know.”
The floor seemed to drop from beneath her feet. She wanted to cling to him and refuse to let him go. She didn’t want him to go. Maybe she could get in the right persons head...
“We can write,” Greg suggested, his hand gently touching her spine.
“And have my husband see a love letter from someone in Cuba? Not a goddamn chance,” she spat. He sighed at her hostility.
“We could get you a P.O. Box?”
“No, no, this is just supposed to happen. This is it. This is over,” she insisted, climbing to her feet and trying to find her clothes. Tears burned in her eyes and she refused to let him see. He was leaving her. He didn’t deserve to see.
“Isobel, come here,” he said. She couldn’t seem to find any of her clothes and her level of frustration was on a steady climb. Her throat was tight and she wanted to scream and she wanted to hate him and she wanted to lock him in her closet forever so he couldn’t leave. “Isobel.”
“I can’t find my fucking clothes!”
“Isobel.”
Strong arms wrapped around her and her face was pressed into his neck. He held her there and he let her hide her tears on his skin.
She texted Noah that she’d be home late.
-
Isobel had heard stories of wives of soldiers being unfaithful while their husband was away. She never pictured she would be in a twisted version of that, forced to hide her ever present worry that her secret side-piece would die overseas and she wouldn't get a proper goodbye. Hell, she wouldn't even get to mourn. They weren't supposed to know each other. She wasn't allowed to be sad.
But she was sad. All the time. Because he wasn't there.
She didn't mean for it to happen and, honestly, she was surprised that it affected her at all. They were supposed to be nothing. But, with him gone and the long spans of silence from the man who just got her in a way she couldn't describe, she suffered.
Noah was noticing that she was upset and he was overcompensating and it made things harder. She was being a bad wife and it made her feel guilty. She wanted to be better, but it was hard when her heart hurt. So she buried herself in her work and sex with her husband, but that didn’t seem to make her feel anything either. It just pushed her thoughts away until she was alone in the bath and thinking about the way Greg’s face fit in the crook of her neck perfectly.
And now that Noah was off on a business trip, Isobel had all the time in the world to think about Gregory Manes and his stupidly broad shoulders and his kind eyes and his strong hands and his soft skin. He was so goddamn easy to miss.
It was probably why when someone knocked on her door, she got more excited than she should’ve been.
“Noah called, said you needed someone to cheer you up,” Michael said. Isobel hid her disappointment and gave a thankful smile, accepting the flask full of acetone as she let him inside.
She was sad and empty, but she loved her brothers more than anything. Maybe she needed to start hanging out with them more. Maybe then she could stop thinking about some guy who she shouldn’t be missing in the first place. She was a married woman. She hadn’t seen Greg in months. It was time to stop.
Isobel and Michael sat on the couch in her big, empty house as they passed the flask back and forth. When that was gone, Isobel grabbed a bottle of whiskey and they did the same until they were both feeling the effects.
“I’m just saying,” Michael said, “If ladies want to be wooed, they should go after a guy who is not me.”
“You’re the perfect guy to want to fix, though. You’re not helpless or hopeless, you’re just a little reckless,” Isobel explained. Michael shrugged.
“I’m just tired of having people throw shit at me ‘cause they’re mad I slept with their sister.”
Isobel sighed and shook her head, hiding her amused smile with the bottle of whiskey as she took a long swig. When she pulled it away, Michael was eyeing her.
“What?” she asked.
“When are gonna tell me what’s fucking with you?” he asked, “I’ve been keeping my mouth shut, but it’s only getting worse. Are you having blackouts again?”
“No,” Isobel sighed, “I’m fine.”
“You’re lying,” he shot back, “C’mon, you know I’m not gonna judge you. Just tell me, maybe I can help.”
Isobel stared at him for a moment, wondering if she could trust him. She knew she could, but still. It took a moment of back and forth before she decided she needed to get it off her chest and who better to tell than Michael? Besides, it’s not like she was still seeing him.
“I’m in love with a guy I can’t have ‘cause he’s stupid and playing GI Joe overseas,” she admitted, taking another sip. The amount of research she’d done on Guantanamo Bay since he’d left was ridiculous, especially considering she didn’t even know it was a real place until he told her. She’d just thought it was a made up place for the fucking Harold & Kumar movie.
Michael stared at her for a moment before he snorted a laugh.
“I’ll fuckin’ drink to that,” he said, stealing the bottle of whisky and raising it in solidarity before gulping down half of what was left. He only stopped when Isobel pulled it away from him in fear he would drink all of it.
“What are you talking about?” Isobel scoffed as she cradled the bottle to her chest so he couldn’t take it. Michael rolled his eyes and sunk into the couch.
“What, you think you’re the only depressed one waiting for your lover to come back from the war? You’re not special,” he said. Isobel watched him, trying to piece together his words in her mind. Who the hell was he talking about? Had she been so wrapped up in her own bullshit that she didn’t even notice he was going through his own.
“Who?” she wondered. He tilted his head in her direction and gave a tiny smile.
“Alex Manes,” Michael said, his voice a little wistful as if the name was simply that fucking sacred. Isobel couldn’t help but laugh as she sunk into the couch beside him.
“What is it about the Manes family that has us so fucked up?”
“I don’t know,” Michael sighed, “Must be somethin’ in the water. You think Max has a secret love affair with one of the other brothers?”
“Unlikely, but that’d be hilarious.”
“It really would be.”
They fell silent again, just passing the bottle back and forth until it was completely empty. It was easy to again lapse into thoughts of Greg and hoping he was okay. She just wanted him to be safe.
“I hate him sometimes,” Michael admitted softly, “For leaving me. I know that’s just how it works, but...”
“I know. I’m constantly pissed at him for leaving, but then I just miss him so much it hurts,” Isobel whispered, “I cut him off completely when he left so I didn’t have to think about it. Am I a bad person?”
“No,” Michael decided without any further context, “You’re just human.”
They both broke into laughter at the claim, laughing until tears rolled down their cheeks and laughing until it wasn’t funny and then no longer laughing as they cried about what they didn’t have. They didn’t talk about that again.
But a month later, Alex was home for a couple weeks and Isobel kept her distance. Michael was on his best behavior if only because he had his man back. Isobel was happy for him.
Even if she was jealous.
-
Isobel got a call from a long, unknown number.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Hey,” Greg’s voice said, smooth and thankful that she answered. Isobel had to grip the corner of the counter. It’d been a year since she heard his voice. “Sorry, wasn’t sure if you’d answer if I called you on my phone and I wanted to hear your voice.”
“Why wouldn’t I answer if you called on your phone?”
“I don’t know, not sure if you wanted to see me again or not.”
Isobel didn’t know what to say. It’d been a year. Their affair was long over. She should’ve gotten over him and forgotten all about him by now. She’d never been tempted to find another lover in the year without him. He was a one off, a mistake.
So why was her skin itching for him again?
“You say that like I can see you again,” Isobel said, trying to sound normal. It was hard to act like she wasn’t desperate for his hands to be on her. No one felt like him.
“Yeah, uh,” There was rustling and she held her breath. “I’m home. Going house hunting tomorrow on the Res out where my mom grew up. Wanted to fully get out of my dad’s reign.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, trying not to jump to conclusions.
“I’m getting out, Iz,” he said with a breath of relief. Isobel’s hand covered her mouth, sinking down a bit into the counter. She didn’t have words for how good that sounded. “No more shitty restrictions. I’ll be close to you again. For good. If you want me still.”
If you want me still. As if she could ever stop.
“When can I see you?” Isobel asked softly.
“When can you get away?”
“I have a wedding out that way in about a month, I can tell Noah I’m checking over the venue anytime you’re free,” she said. He hummed softly, the sound reverberating beneath her skin.
“Thursday would be good. I can get a room,” Greg said.
“So I’ll see you Thursday.”
“I’ll see you Thursday.”
When Thursday rolled around, Isobel found herself bubbling with excitement to the point where she got there early and had to drive around for 15 minutes so she didn’t seem too early.
She was overflowing with nerves, checking her reflection to make sure she looked good. Part of her was terrified that it wasn’t going to be as good as it used to be, that maybe, over the last year, she’d built it up in her mind to be something that it wasn’t. But she missed him and that was enough to ignore that terrified voice in her mind.
Isobel parked and climbed out of her car, deliberately walking at a leisurely pace. She refused to seem overly eager. He did not have that same reservation.
Greg swung the door open before she could knock and tugged her into his arms. He hugged her so tight he nearly pulled her off the floor. Isobel’s eyes fell closed as she hugged him right back. She never wanted to let him go.
“God, I missed you so much,” he groaned against her neck, “You look stunning.”
“I know.”
Greg laughed with his whole body, giddy with excitement as he lifted and spun her as if this was a cheesy romance movie. Sometimes with him, it really felt like it. How come they could go a year without speaking and still pickup like this? It had to be a cheesy romance.
“There’s so many things I want to tell you,” he said, pulling away just to cup her cheeks in his hands, “But can I kiss you?”
“Do you even need to ask?”
“Yes,” he laughed, but he leaned in all the same.
They seemed to crash together in the middle, though, some gravitational force pulling them together after being too far apart for too long. She was finally remembering how to breathe. It felt like coming home.
The kiss broke eventually, their foreheads resting against each other as they absorbed the feeling of being close again. She never wanted to leave.
“I love you,” he whispered, letting out the words into the world. Isobel stared at him, unsure if she should say it back. She was married and they hadn’t seen each other in forever. How could he love her?
But that all seemed debunked by one simple fact: she loved him too.
“I love you too,” Isobel admitted. His body deflated with a shaky sigh of relief and his hands squeezed her sides gently.
“You have no idea how much I’ve waited to hear that.”
-
“You’re, like, a whole grown adult.”
“Well, I’m 30, so it’s about time.”
Isobel smiled at Greg as she ran her fingertips over his counter. He’d finally bought a house and, even though, it was still full of boxes, she was proud of him. He had gotten a job as a teacher and gotten a house and he was close. Albeit, an hour drive, but that was closer than Cuba.
“So, you’re sure you can stay over night and there won’t be any problems?” Greg clarified, looking over his shoulder. He was make stir fry and Isobel could’t help but smile. This was going to be their first meal together. Years of fucking around and they were going to have a meal.
“No problems, Noah is out of town, won’t be back until Monday,” she confirmed. He didn’t say anything right away, so she walked closer. She placed her hands on his hips and slid his arms around him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he sighed. She pressed her lips to the back of his neck and smiled when she pulled away and saw the perfect little imprint. He wiggled away just enough to separate the meal onto two plates.
They brought the plates over to table and sat down. Isobel again was hit with how much she adored the picture of them. Both beautiful and and picturesque, sharing a meal in their house. It reminded her of when she was little and would watch sitcoms from the 50s and 60s, trying to learn the perfect way to be human. She grew out of that, but, still, some part of her found it charming.
“So,” she said, riding that high of domesticity, “How was your day?”
Greg looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. She flashed a smile and he melted like he always did. It was one of those things she loved about him.
“Uh, well, good,” he said, “I got to see you, that always makes a good day.”
“Not what I meant, tell me about how it feels to be a teacher,” she prodded. They very rarely talked about every day life like this. Well, they did, but usually with one off sentences of how a day was frustrating and how they wanted a distraction. This... This was normal.
“Oh,” Greg said, smiling easily, “Well, I’m slowly but surely figuring it out. It’s a little weird because it’s been so long since I student taught, but kids are super flexible and they’re learning with me.”
The next hour seemed to go by fast as Isobel listened to him go on tangent after tangent. He told her stories about the kids he was teaching now, kids he student taught, random stories from college, stories from being in the Navy. It was so... normal.
"I think you’re giving me new kinks,” Isobel told him after they put the plates in the sink, draping her arms around his neck, “Because there is something so sexy hearing you be so goddamn caring.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The last time she saw that had been when he told her he was leaving. Her stomach dropped and she leaned back to get a better look at him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked hesitantly. Greg stared at her before he licked his lips and let go of her completely. It was even more terrifying than before.
“What are we doing here, Iz?” he asked softly, “Seriously, what are we doing?”
“What do you mean?” she asked cautiously. He huffed a laugh.
“What do I mean? I mean, I just spent an hour talking about how I’m a grown man and settling down and making something of myself only to be faced with the fact that I’m still the other man,” he said, shaking his head, “I tired of being the other man. I love you so much, but how long are we supposed to keep this up? How long am I supposed to be your side-piece? Forever? Because I can’t do that.”
Isobel stared at him, lips parted as she tried to keep up. Part of her wanted to claim it was coming out of left field, but it wasn’t. It was clear from the moment he came home that it wasn’t quite the same. He was tired of sleezy motel meet ups. He wanted a relationship.
“I-I don’t know what you want me to say,” she said, “I’m sorry if I made you feel less than.”
“That’s the problem,” Greg told her, his voice cracking as his eyes started to fill with tears, “I don’t feel less than. Every time you look at me, it feels real and I forget all the excess bullshit that comes with having a fucking affair with a married woman. And then you look away and I remember all over again. And it almost kills me. Every time.”
Isobel took a shaky breath, swallowing hard. Logically, she should’ve expected this conversation. They could only carry on for so long. But, god, it hurt.
“I never want to hurt you,” Isobel insisted, “I love you. You know I do.”
“I know,” he said, nodding his head, “So divorce him.”
“It’s not that easy to--”
“Divorce him or we’re done,” he said simply, “I’m tired of this back and forth. I need to know if I need to move on.”
“Greg,” she tried, trying to smile, “C’mon, we can--”
“No. No, I’m putting my foot down. Leave him or this is it. Full stop.”
The two of them stared at each other, both waiting for one of them to cave. The silence was deafening.
Then it was shattered by his phone ringing.
Greg reluctantly grabbed it and then even more reluctantly answered. Isobel watched at he listened to the voice on the line and the color slowly drained from his face, leaving him terrifyingly pale his jaw slack.
“I’ll be right there,” he said, ending the call and then basically running for his keys.
“What’s going on?” Isobel demanded, following him as best as she could, “Greg! Will you stop and tell me what’s going on?!”
He didn’t answer her, just slammed the door and his truck was pulling out of the driveway within a handful of seconds.
She found out a few days later that his brother Alex had been in an accident. Isobel was able to distract herself by taking care of Michael. One of them deserved to drink their pain away and his at least wasn’t self-inflicted.
Greg didn’t call her and she was too scared to make the first move.
All over again, there was radio silence.
-
“Alex knows everything. His family is involved in the conspiracy that tortured and killed the other aliens. He’s tangled up in all these terrible memories in my life and... I love him.”
Isobel’s heart dropped into her stomach and them they both fucking plummeted to the ground beneath her feet. She knew that she had bigger issues going on, big things like dealing with the fact her husband was a murderous, manipulative alien. She finally had that piece that made sense, that that was the reason she clicked with Greg and yet still could never even think to leave Noah. All manipulation and control.
And yet this seemed to be a bigger fucking bomb.
“Wait, what?” Isobel breathed, “His family? As in Greg too?”
Michael seemed to slowly come out of his personal haze as he realized the extra layer to what he’d said. How come he never said that to her before? How long had he spared that little detail? How much did Greg know?
“I don’t know,” Michael admitted softly, “All I know is being with someone that... that’s so close to all that hurts. So maybe you got lucky dropping Greg when you did.”
But Isobel didn’t feel lucky. Not one bit.
“No,” she said, sniffling as she shook her head, “No, go fucking grab Alex and make it stop hurting.”
Michael blinked in confusion. “What?”
“I wasted so much time thinking my marriage was important only to figure out it was a sham and that the guy I love probably knew every single thing about me and loved me through it. All you’re saying is that you had one of those too. You have someone who knows all the bullshit and loves you. Don’t let go of it.”
“Isobel, I can’t just--”
“Yes, you can,” she insisted, shaking her head, “Go get him. Don’t waste time fucking around when you know he’s it. I know how that feels. Don’t do it.”
He stared at her for a moment and licked his lips, nodding. “And you’re gonna go to Greg even after not seeing him for, like, a year?”
“Yeah, I really am. I’ll call you if I make a fool of myself, but you better not answer because you should be giving a long ‘I Love You’ speech, okay?” she insisted. Michael huffed a laugh, genuine nerves on his face as agreed.
“Good luck, Izzy.”
“Yeah, good luck to you.”
The hour long drive to the res gave her a lot of time to try and think of what she was going to say. Still, when she knocked on his front door, exhausted and desperate, all she could do was be thankful that he answered.
“Isobel?” he breathed. She tried to smile.
“So,” she said, “A little birdie told me you might know more about me and my family than I thought.”
Greg’s face seemed to flicker through a million emotions, clearly unsure on how to react. She decided that was fair enough.
“I wanna talk. About everything. And I want to start over.”
“Start over?” he repeated.
“I’m a widow,” she explained simply and his eyes widened, “I’m not exactly ready to jump into a relationship, but I... I don’t know, I miss you. And I found out you know things. I keep trying to piece together when you figured it out, but I can’t and then I just realized we didn’t talk much. I want to talk to you. I want...”
“To start over,” Greg said, firmly this time like he knew exactly what she was saying.
“Yeah. I wanna learn about you. I still love you so much and I... I only know so much about you. It doesn’t make sense, but I want it to,” she explained, “So can we?”
Greg stared at her and she stared back. She felt more open and on display than she had in a very long time, maybe ever. But, God, it felt good.
And, as he opened the door wider, it felt even better.