for a honeymoon, wouldn’t it? But the offer stands.”
“It’s sweet of you, but we won’t put you out anytime soon. To actually take a honeymoon, we’d have to be done with the contractors in the house, and we’d have to find someone to watch the dog for a couple of weeks, and—hang on.” Helen tapped on a keyboard. “Got an urgent message from the brigade CO. Let me read this real quick.”
India marched the three whole steps from the window to the sofa. Gerard-Pierre’s red sweater was thrown over the arm. Feeling like she was reclaiming her home, she whipped it off the sofa. It left red lint on the creamy-beige upholstery. A bit of teal peeked out from between the cushions, too, Gerard-Pierre’s shirt or scarf or something. He favored flamboyantly fashionable French scarves with his winter wear.
She yanked on it. The cloth turned out to be a strap. The strap turned out to be part of a lacy, teal bra. It was darling and daring and so very French.
It wasn’t hers.
She sank down onto the beige cushions, a little dazed. A little nauseous.
Helen’s voice penetrated her thoughts. “Oh. My. God.”
“I know, right?” India said, but her voice sounded funny. “Talk about three’s a crowd...”
“This is the single best message I’ve ever read in the United States Army. That monster training exercise? Canceled. They decided the planning phase was a success and canceled the execution. We’re standing down. A training holiday has been granted instead. Wait until Tom gets the word. Hang on—he won’t get the word if I don’t pass this memo down to battalion.”
India stared at the lacy bra. Gerard-Pierre was cheating on her. They hadn’t had sex in months, but he’d had sex. In her apartment.
“India? Hello? Can you still hear me?”
“Fine.” Why would he put so much effort into it? He wasn’t very exciting in bed. He’d take a fine glass of wine over a round of sex.
“Are you okay?”
He’d wanted her to cancel her holiday vacation so he could present her to his parents as his accomplished, multilingual girlfriend. And then what had been his plan? To take up with his side piece again in January? To keep cheating until he got caught?
Of course.
Then, when his infidelity caused their breakup, India would have known there was another family out there wondering why she’d decided to break up with their son after they’d had such a nice visit. Hadn’t she liked them? Had they scared her off in some way?
The shock was quickly being replaced by anger.
There was an even worse scenario possible. Tom loves my parents, Helen had said. What if India had spent Christmas with Gerard-Pierre’s family and loved them? She would have lost them when she lost her cheating boyfriend.
She clenched the bra in her fist. This was why Major India Woods, US Army, was thirty-two and single. She didn’t do families. She didn’t do complicated. She didn’t do any of this.
“You’re looking awfully serious,” Helen said.
“I...” She dropped the bra on the floor. The truth was too humiliating. She lied. “I reread that note while you were sending your message. There was more to it. I’m really, really ticked off.”
She was ticked off at herself. This was her home, an impermanent rental unit, but the only home she had, and she hadn’t protected it. She’d let someone use her home, she’d let someone use her and now—
India stood up. She didn’t want to sit on the couch. She didn’t want Gerard-Pierre’s stuff to be in her apartment. Most of all, she didn’t want to be here when Gerard-Pierre came over tonight. He didn’t deserve an audience for his excuses or his accusations—and that was all there would be. Certainly, he’d offer no apology. He’d still probably expect her to play hostess for his family, anyway. It wouldn’t be civilized to cause a scene so close to the holidays.
“I want to go somewhere,” she told Helen. “My leave was approved. Just because Gerard-Pierre decided not to go, that doesn’t mean I can’t have a Christmas holiday, right?”
“Right. Where do you want to go?”
Home.
The pang was strong enough to cut through her anger. She wanted to go home, to a place where she was part of something. To a place where she belonged.
It didn’t exist.
“I want to come back to the United States,” she said, the words surprising her even as she spoke them.
It would feel familiar. There’d be all the foods and the stores and the street signs she’d grown up with. She’d be surrounded by American accents and oversize vehicles. She wanted to eat in a McDonald’s that did not serve gazpacho or koffiekoeken, in a KFC that served tea on ice without asking, because they didn’t even sell hot tea.
Her friend laughed. “The grass is always greener on the other side of the pond, then. You want to come to the United States, and I’m dying to go to Europe.”
There was a pause, and then, despite the satellite’s relay delay, the old roomies spoke in unison. “We should swap places.”
India seized on the idea. “We really could do that. We could swap houses.”
“Now?” Helen asked.
“Yes. You could spend Christmas here.”
“My reflex is to say ‘No, I couldn’t,’ but Tom and I just got extra days off. Minutes ago.”
India looked at the bra on her floor. A lot had happened in the past few minutes.
“It’s like fate,” Helen said, half-serious.
India pressed her point, trying not to sound frantic. “It would be perfect for you. My place could be your home base for your honeymoon. From here, you could catch trains to Paris or Rome. You could take a ferry to England. You could drive to Amsterdam or Luxembourg.”
“Stop, stop. I’m sold. I’ve been sold since you first pointed that phone out your window last year.”
Thank God. India really needed to get out of here. What she wanted was...
Well, it wasn’t here. What she wanted was time away, time to herself to decide what she wanted.
Helen was apologetic. “It’s great for me, but what would you get? An unfinished house and nobody to talk to except our goofy dog.”
“Do I have to meet the dog’s family?”
“No.”
“Sounds like heaven.”
* * *
This is going to be hell.
Aiden brooded at the brown,
