Title: We've Got Tonight
Summary: The coin toss never happens, and Harm and Mac go their separate ways. But they run into one another over the years and find the spark is still there.
December 2009
Waldorf Astoria Washington, DC
I would have never expected such an elaborate wedding for Sturgis Turner. The man is as vanilla as they come, and not even an exciting vanilla like Mexican vanilla or Madagascar vanilla. No, he's like the bottle of McCormick's imitation vanilla I bought at Albertson's last week for three dollars.
I take in the twinkle lights (there must be thousands of them), the tall white trees, the white candles in tall, cylindrical vases, and the abundance of cascading white roses, and I know this all must be Varese's doing. It really is beautiful, and so is she. Her dress is white (of course) and form-fitting, except for where the skirt flares out below her knees. She has a white fur cape tied around her neck, and her makeup is bold and dramatic. She's looking up at Sturgis with so much love and affection, and I am really, truly happy for them.
The receiving line is moving quickly, and before I know it, I'm standing in front of the newlyweds. Sturgis greets me with a kiss on the cheek, but Varese leans in for a giant hug. We pull back, and I smile at her. "It was a beautiful wedding. Congratulations."
"Thank you," she says and beams. She looks up at Sturgis, and her smile widens. "I'm a little thankful it took him so long to propose – it gave me plenty of time to plan." She winks as he rolls his eyes and then turns back to me. "Thank you so much for coming."
"I wouldn't have missed it," I say. We hug again, and then I leave the line and leave them to the rest of their guests. I grab a glass of water from the bar and walk around the room, taking in the beauty and splendor.
I wasn't completely honest back there. I would have missed this wedding with no regrets if I hadn't been aching to be here – to be home. San Diego is great, but I miss seasons. And even though Harriet is amazing at sending photos at least once a month, I miss my godson and his brothers and sister. And, of course, there's Harm. I want to see him, and I figure the odds are good that he'll be here. Even if he and Sturgis are never again the friends they once were, I'm guessing their old friends from their Academy days, plus the addition of our JAG family, will be enough of a draw.
We haven't spoken since the night we spent together last year. Not really, anyway. I sent him a Christmas card, and we exchanged birthday cards, but we haven't talked. Or emailed. Or said anything more personal than 'Happy Birthday! Hope forty-nine is your best year yet!'
The anticipation of seeing him again has been torture. It took a long time to stop thinking about that night we spent together. It was months before I agreed to a date with Charlie, a very nice guy who owns the restaurant I frequent for lunch. And it was another three months before I finally went to bed with him. It was nice, but the whole time I thought about Harm and how… effortless it was. Harm seemed to know what I wanted and how to touch me without any direction from me. It wasn't like that with Charlie, and after a few weeks as lovers, I finally had to call things off. The way things were wasn't fair to him or me.
I take a sip of the water and look around the crowded room, looking for familiar faces. I spot Bud and Harriet and lift my hand to wave when I see him, and I freeze. He's not alone.
There aren't many times I want a drink, but I want one now. I would love a splash of vodka in my tonic, or a glass of champagne, or anything that would dull the ache of seeing him with another woman. She's blonde. And so beautiful. She's wearing a gauzy midnight blue gown that looks ethereal, and her hair is in loose blonde waves around her bronzed shoulders. She's truly stunning and looks so good on his arm that, for a moment, I forget that I'm jealous and just admire how perfect the two of them look together.
I've got to get out of here, I think.
But the thought doesn't come fast enough because before I can move, he sees me, and our eyes lock. I had always thought that sounded romantic - standing in a crowded ballroom and spotting this perfect person. Your eyes meet, and it's love at first sight. His eyes widen slightly, and then he offers me a tentative smile, and I feel my heart break just a little. I want him to smile at me the way he used to, the way he did last July when we were in a different ballroom. I watch as he bends to whisper something to his date, and then they make their way across the room to me.
"Mac, hey." He detaches himself from his date and gives me a brief hug. He pulls back quickly and forces a smile before turning back to the blonde. "This is Gemma. Gemma, this is Mac."
I force a smile of my own as I shake her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Likewise," she says, her posh British accent is heavy, and I briefly imagine Harm as a father to children that sound like her.
He looks around and frowns. "Are you here with a date?"
My cheeks heat and I shake my head. It was silly to expect him to come alone or to still be single after all this time. And as embarrassed as I am to admit it, I had hoped that this night would end up like that night in Boston. I had hoped for that 'eyes locking across a crowded room moment,' then a night of dancing, and then back to my hotel room – it definitely would have been my hotel room this time, to avoid that walk of shame moment the next morning. But that's not going to happen. He's here with a woman so beautiful that Renee would look matronly by comparison, and I'm all alone.
"No," I say. "I'm here alone."
His eyes flash, and I take a step back. "I need to say hi to some people," I say. "It was great seeing you again, Harm. And meeting you, Gemma."
"You too," Gemma says, and Harm nods but doesn't say anything, and I escape to the other side of the room and the safety of Bud, Harriet, and the massive stack of photos of the kids I'm sure Harriet has concealed in her purse.
"Aren't you cold?"
I turn at the sound of Harm's voice and shake my head. "No," I say. I turn back to the view of the city I miss so much and rub my hands over my arms. "Well, maybe a little. But this view is worth it."
"Yeah, it is." His voice is thick, and it makes me shiver. He steps closer, shrugs off his coat, and drapes it over my shoulders.
I look up at him, and even though we're nearly ten years older, the gesture instantly takes me back to Admiral Chegwidden's porch on a cool spring night. "Thanks," I manage.
"You're welcome."
We turn back to the city and stand in silence, but after a while, it gets to be too much, and I look at him. "Where's Gemma?"
"She had a call from her sister she needed to take."
I nod, shove my hands in his coat pockets, and draw the heavy, dark fabric closed. The coat smells like him – and I wish I were alone so that I could bury my face in it. "She seems nice," I say. I don't mean it, of course. She could be nice for all I know, but after that initial meeting, I've spent the entire night trying to avoid them. Sturgis and Varese had us assigned to separate tables, and I think I'll be forever grateful to him for that.
"She is," he says.
"And young," I can't help but add.
He rolls his eyes, but he's smiling just a bit. "She is."
I chew on my bottom lip for a moment while I work up the courage to ask my question. "Is it serious between the two of you?" He shakes his head, and I frown. "It has to be at least a little serious if she came all the way out here to be your date for an old friend's wedding." He winces, and I'm suddenly hit with the clarity that it may be more serious for her than it is for him.
"We've been seeing each other on and off for a while," he says. "We're currently in one of our on phases. She saw the invitation and thought it sounded like fun, so I asked her to come."
I think of Charlie and wonder what he's doing now. I haven't spoken to him since we broke up, and I can't imagine being with someone and breaking up constantly. It sounds exhausting. He frowns, and I blush, realizing I must have said that last part out loud. "Sorry," I say. "I was thinking about my ex and how tiring the back and forth would be.
"Why is he your ex," Harm asks and steps even closer to me." I swallow hard and look away. He reaches over, puts his fingertips on my chin, and gently forces me to look at him. "Tell me."
He doesn't pull his hand away; instead, his fingers slide up my jaw and brush over my cheekbone. "He wasn't you," I whisper.
And then we're kissing. I don't know who moved first or who started it, but I'm wrapped in his arms, and his mouth is on mine, and it feels so goddamned perfect that I want to die. I whimper when he pulls back, but he doesn't go far. His lips trail over my jaw and down the column of my throat. His hands spread open the coat, move over my bare back, and I want him so badly – more than I've ever wanted anyone. I clutch at him, loving the way he feels against me. I can feel the muscles under his white dress shirt and the erection straining against the thin dress pants.
"I want you," he whispers against my neck."
We're both trapped in this fog of lust and want, and I want to stay here forever. "I want you, too," I say. The words sound almost like a sob, and his lips are on mine again.
It isn't the need for the air or the realization that we shouldn't be doing this that breaks us apart; it's something much more mundane, like the sound of hundreds of pieces of cutlery clinking against crystal and a loud voice coming over the speakers.
"We can't do this."
"I know."
His eyes are wide, and I cover my lips with trembling fingertips. I can still feel him - taste him. And I need him to go. I pull off his coat and hand it back to him. I don't say anything, but he nods and slips the coat back on.
"I guess I'll go find Gemma," he says and starts to walk back inside.
I force a smile. "You always did look good with a blonde on your arm."
He stops walking and turns back to me. He gives me a curious look but doesn't come any closer. "I can't date brunettes anymore. Want to know why?" I'm desperate to know, but I think the answer might break me, so I shake my head. He ignores me and tells me anyway. "I always end up comparing them to you." Even though it's dark out here, the intensity in his eyes is startling, and I watch silently as he swallows. "And they always, always come up short."
I don't say anything, and he gives me a small nod before he goes back inside to his date, and I'm left all alone.
End Part Two
