Three days later.

Victoria.

Kim and I were seated at the loudest possible restaurant in town. We were at the Chuckie Cheese with our offspring. Her daughter and my sons got along like no one's business. So while they played game after game, I gingerly ate what passed for pizza and helped Kim with her homework.

Somehow we got sidetracked.

Her Texas accent was really distracting. "…and you really like the house? Even though it's off base?"

From what I had seen of the house it was great. Tomorrow, after my doctor appointment, Molly was taking me to the rental property for a guided tour. So we would see how that went. "I really do. There is room for more kids and Sarah's boat."

She smiled and eyed her pizza.

The sounds of screaming children and video games, paired with running and the smells of bad Italian food was epic. To think we could have made sandwiches and gone to the park. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Pain laced up my side and I about lost the little bit of pizza I managed to eat.

"Can you hold down the fort? I need to go check my stitches."

Naturally she nodded, "Of course, they'll be fine. They've moved onto a shootin game. Are you ok?"

With a nod I stood, boy those were tight stitches. "Fine, I want to check on the stitching."

What I meant to say was I was going to pull them out.

With Ryan raising me, I always had a knife and Leatherman in my purse. I would have made a bitchin boy scout. So I fought my way through the horde of sugared up unsupervised children. Finally finding the ladies room. Along with a pile of pizza looking vomit on the floor. Beautiful, there went my appetite.

Once inside I slapped my purse on the counter.

Lifted up the huge sweatshirt Dad had brought me. There in my side were a line of stitches. I pinned the ARMY sweatshirt beneath my chin and dug through my purse, just as a stall door opened.

In walked none other then a hospital nurse.

Damn! I withdrew my hand as she eyed me.

She looked somewhat familiar. But, since I had spent a week in the dreadful place, all faces were looking vaguely familiar.

Ignoring the stitches she pointed, "You're Charles Grey's wife?"

My sweatshirt fell.

Every little intruder alarm Ryan had put in my head went off. This woman knew quite a bit and we had never formally been introduced. My spidey sense went off noisily. "And you are?"

Looking me over, as if she weren't impressed, she informed me, "I'm his girlfriend."

Both my eyebrows probably hit my scalp, "What?"

"He didn't tell you about me? I was with him last night."

Later that hour…

With dad having packed up all our belongings and moved us out of the apartment, he'd moved us in with him until I found a new place. And that was the least of my worries.

I'd left Kim with the kids and went home.

God only knew how many traffic laws I had broken on my way. Curbs I'd driven over, stop signs I'd yielded at. In the Humvee Charles had gotten me parking was no longer an issue. I parked wherever I wanted to park.

I'd turned the ten miles trip into five minutes and thirty-nine seconds. When I parked in the driveway and slammed the door, I'm sure Ryan heard. But I slammed the front door of the house for good measure.

Before Ryan appeared I was already screeching for him. "Dad! Dad! Where are you!"

The tight stitches in my side long forgotten. I'd get to them later. I had a much bigger fish to fry. And that fish's name was Layla.

Dad appeared from his study. Both confused and worried at the same time. Before he could vocalize that I threw my purse on the hall table. "Where the hell is Charles?"

Confusion continued, "Victoria, you know I can't tell you that."

Well he was going to tell me something! "Where was he last night? Some woman just told me he was with her, so I need to know whether or not this female is screwing around with Charles, and I need to know right now."

Some of the confusion cleared from his face.

It was replaced with concern though. He pointed toward the living room. Immediately my hand flew up, "I'm not sitting till you tell me something. I'm not asking for his exact land coordinates. I'm not asking you to break security. I am asking you to tell me if my husband is being unfaithful."

Realizing I wasn't budging, Ryan clicked the pen in his hand, "Charles is not being unfaithful. Nor is he even in this country, nor has he been since he was paged."

"Then who is Layla?"

Again, he motioned to the living room. Again I made the hand gesture, "Dad, who is she?"

I knew he kept track of his men. He would know who she was if she was someone worth worrying over.

Softly he told me, "She is most likely someone he had relations with while you were abroad. He has not strayed once since finding you Victoria, and I would tell you if that ever changes."

Somewhat happy, I began to tap my foot.

Layla was a lying bitch then. I should have slapped her when I had the chance. I took a breath and felt the pressure on my side, and my nose still ached. So I headed towards the bathroom down the hall. Dad grabbed my arm gently, "You should sit down. Where are you going?"

"To take my stitches out," I informed.

"Oh you most certainly are not," he wheeled me around firmly and led me into the spacious living room. "Where are the boys?"

He plopped me down on his overstuffed sofa. It was a grand sofa. He threw the throw over me, and handed me the TV remote.

"At Chuckie Cheese with Kim."

He put the pen in hand in his pocket, "I'll go get them then. Where are the keys to your car?"

Right, "You just want to drive the Humvee," I accused, handing him the keys I had to dig out of my pocket.

I tossed him the keys.

"Guilty," he admitted.

Then fatherly, he kissed my forehead and headed out of the room. I shouted after him, "Pick me up a Frosty!"

I heard the front door close, and then the Humvee start up. After that I turned the TV on and reached around under the couch. While the History Channel came on, showing the Salem Witch Trails, promising: I reached under the sofa.

Ignoring the two handguns and ammo box, I eventually found a K-Bar knife. Which I used to dismantle my stitches with ease.