She covers her mouth, still not looking at me. “Yes…”

“And you’re going to train him and keep his claws clipped because these hardwood floors are original and—”

“Yes!” she shouts, jumping up, her eyes filled with tears and her smile bright. “Are you saying…”

“I’m not saying anything. I’m just asking questions…”

“Dylan!” she laughs out, slapping my chest. “Be serious.” She takes off her top.

My laugh matches hers. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Preparing my payment,” she tells me, her hands already on the band of my drawers.

“Man, you should’ve stuck to reading. It would’ve been a lot cheaper.”

She removes her hands, her body bouncing with excitement. “I don’t know what you’re saying! What are you saying?!”

I reach up and cup her face, my smile fading with each second I touch her.

Fuck, I love her. I’m going to miss these moments. I’m going to miss her.

I grasp the back of her neck and bring her lips to mine. “Get the dog,” I whisper. “On one condition.”

“Anything,” she says, her smile wide as she starts to remove her panties.

I stop her. “Riley.”

“What?”

Then I release my last secret, my last justified fear. “Semper Fidelis.”

She tilts her head, her smile waning. “Always faithful?”

I nod. “Promise me.”

“Always, Dylan,” she whispers. Her mouth covering mine as she lies on top of me. Then she pulls back, holding my face in her hands. “Always.”

Thirty

Riley

“Let’s go meet your daddy,” I whisper in our puppy’s ear, walking out of work and toward Dylan’s truck.

Dylan smiles as we both get inside. “Have you named him?” he asks.

“Bacon.”

He chuckles. “You named the dog Bacon?”

“Yep.” I lean up and give him a kiss. “I just brought him so he could meet his daddy. He has to stay in here for a few days for medical checks before we can bring him home.” I hand him Bacon.

“Did you just call me his daddy?” he asks, awkwardly holding Bacon in his arms.

I laugh. “What would you rather?”

Dylan shrugs. “Master.”

I take Bacon from him and hold his face next to mine. “You can’t be Master. He’s our baby.”

With an eye roll, Dylan says, “Let’s go.”

“Daddy’s gwumpy, baby,” I whisper in Bacon’s ear. “He be better when you come home. Pwomise.” I look up at Dylan, waiting for his amused response. There’s nothing there. “Everything okay?”

“We need to talk, Riley.”

I woke up this morning with a clear head, a clear plan for the day. We’d wake up, have breakfast, and then I’d spend the day with my new puppy. I’d come home, Dylan and I would have dinner, and we’d make love like we do most nights before falling asleep.

I didn’t expect to be sitting opposite him at the kitchen table while he told me that he went to see Dr. Garvis. I didn’t expect him to say that he was given the all clear. And I definitely didn’t expect him to tell me that he was going to go back tomorrow. Had I known that, I probably wouldn’t have woken up at all.

“So that’s it?” I ask him, his hands covering mine between us. I’m trying not to cry. I don’t want to. Crying shows weakness. Weakness gives him something to worry about. I don’t want him to worry.

He swallows loudly, his eyes fixed on mine. “That’s it.”

“And you can’t, like, delay it or anything?”

He shakes his head.

I inhale deeply and look away. I look at the kitchen cabinets with three different color samples painted on one of the doors. I look at the floor, the black-and-white checkered floors we once deemed ugly but are now kind of attached to. I look at the kitchen sink, a single bead of water hanging on to the tap for dear life. I look everywhere but at Dylan.

“Ry?”

“We knew, right?”

“What?”

I tear my gaze away from the tap and look back at him. “We knew it was going to happen…”

“We just didn’t prepare for it,” he finishes for me.

“So what do we do?”

“I have to pack.”

“Right now?”

He nods. “I leave first thing.”

Standing between his legs, I place a towel around his neck to catch the hairs as I take the clippers from him, my fingers shaking from my overwhelming emotions.

His hands find my legs, bare underneath one of his flannel shirts. He rests his head against my stomach. “I didn’t think…” he murmurs, his words dying in the air.

“You didn’t think what, baby?” I run my hands through the back of his hair; hair so much longer and thicker than it was five months ago.

“It didn’t hurt like this the first time I left.”

I smile through the force of the tears begging to be released. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be here when you get back.”

He wraps his arms around my waist squeezing tight and I take the opportunity to breathe through the pain and wipe the tears from my cheeks—tears I’ve held on to since he told me he was leaving. That this was it. This was the last night in our new home until… we don’t even know when.