If I Don't Ask, page 41
do with them. I could have donated all my uniforms to an
Army surplus store, but they represented so many years of my
life. They represented years of repression, of growth, of
realization, and then of finding something I never thought I
would. I ran my fingertips over the lieutenant colonel’s silver
oak leaves, and the service ribbons for my ASU jacket. In a
small cloth bag hanging from the rack were all the Velcro
patches, like my name, my US ARMY patch, rank insignia
and service branch.
I swung open both closet doors to give myself extra
maneuvering space to put my clothes away and noticed,
tucked into the corner, tins of paint, paintbrushes, rollers, trays
and drop sheets. I’d completely forgotten that Sabine had
sanded down the walls of our bedroom and painted a coat of
primer when she’d been home on leave. The uneven not-
really-painted off-white of our bedroom had been the last thing
on my mind since I’d come home, as if my brain had just
accepted our bedroom was a kind of transparent primer color.
A new life deserved a new bedroom color.
Tilting one of the cans told me I’d soon be sleeping in a
mid-blue bedroom. I chuckled. The color didn’t surprise me
one bit, given how much blue was scattered throughout the
house already, from Sabine’s clothing to appliances to the
color of her truck—which she’d sold a few weeks ago, citing
she wanted to put the past aside—and now her new Honda.
There was still no sign of Sabine, and when I opened the
window I could hear her continued laughing with the neighbor,
so I decided to just get started. Linda would be proud of me.
Carpe diem.
Thinking about Linda made me desperate to hear her voice,
and after a quick catch up with Michelle, she put Linda on the
phone.
“Still here,” she said dryly.
“So I noticed. Unless you recorded yourself saying
thousands of phrases and Michelle is just pressing buttons to
play each one.”
“Oh, clever. I’m going to write that down.”
“Credit me with the idea, please. Quick question. I’m about
to paint our bedroom. Roller or brush?”
“Roller,” she said immediately. “And take your time or
you’re going to have uneven patches. Nobody wants to see
unevenly painted walls when they’re fucking. It’s distracting.”
“Have you slept with a lot of women in badly painted
bedrooms?”
Linda’s laugh was sunshine. “Too many. So use the roller.
Cut in the corners and edges with a brush first. I’ll see you two
on Thursday for dinner?”
“Absolutely.”
“Great. Love you, miss you.”
We’d never actually said it, only the acronym. My voice
caught on my response. “Love you, miss you too.”
Those words echoed about the room and I hastily put them
aside. Not now, not now. It was too soon to be thinking about
that. Busying myself in repainting the bedroom was exactly
what I needed to take my mind off Linda. Sabine had bought
everything and I transferred it all to the bedroom next door.
Changing into an old pair of cut-off jeans and a tank top that
should have gone in the trash years ago but was so
comfortable I kept justifying keeping it, and moving and
draping furniture and the floor around the baseboards only
took fifteen minutes. I’d just stirred the paint back into a shade
resembling blue and made my first few swipes over a wall
when I heard the front door.
“Bec?”
“Yep, I’m in here,” I called back.
Sabine appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame
as she watched me. I didn’t know why, but even though I knew
it was something she’d planned I suddenly felt as if I should
have asked her if I could paint the room. “I hope you don’t
mind. I found all this in the spare room closet while I was
putting some out-of-season clothes away.” I held out my hand
to her as she took a step into the room.
“It looks great.” She captured my hand and traced circles
on my palm before bending forward to kiss me. We were both
careful of the paint roller, but not with each other, and I felt the
familiar stirring of longing. Sabine lingered close then softly
rubbed the tip of her nose against mine. I loved how she did
that. “You know,” she said, “I think I finally figured it out.”
I stared at her in confusion, trying to connect the dots of
her subject shift. “What exactly have you figured out?”
Sabine inhaled slowly. “I figured out what you taste like.”
It took me a few seconds to drag my mind back to that
night. To the first night of the rest of our lives together. “And
what’s that?” I asked quietly, studying her.
“Home.” The word had caught, and she tried again. “You
taste like home.”
“Oh…” I blinked hard to chase away the threat of tears,
and set the roller down. “I, uh…” I cleared my throat. “I think
I might have figured something out too.”
She smiled a knowing smile. “And what’s that?”
“That you’re more than my desire, Sabine.” I watched
understanding dawn on her face as she too connected my dots
from that night. “If I’m your home, then you’re my safe
harbor. The sanctuary where I can finally rest. You’re my
everything—my truth, my strength, my trust, my hope, and all
my love.” I shrugged and gave in to my tears. “You’re the rest
of my life.”
Bella Books, Inc.
Women. Books. Even Better Together.
P.O. Box 10543
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Document Outline
Synopsis
Bella Books Social Media
Praise for the works of E. J. Noyes
Other Bella Books by E. J. Noyes
About the Author
Title Page
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Bella Books
E. J. Noyes, If I Don't Ask
