As always, thank you so much for your thoughtful and inspiring reviews. I really do appreciate them all. This chapter and the next take a slightly darker turn - don't blame me, it's the muse's fault! But I promise it will get resolved pretty quickly. :) Enjoy the chapter.

Chapter 10

I cannot believe that worked! I am relieved. Someone has heard us and will alert the right people. I hope. No, I am sure. Even if they just tell the building maintenance, they will at least come and talk to us again. 911 would be better, quicker, but if the maintenance people can't handle it, they'll call them then.

My arm muscles are going to kill me in the morning. I can feel the strain on my shoulders and triceps acutely and only sheer determination on my part kept the doors apart as long as I did. Steph was great though. As I had asked her, she kept watch on me and responded as urgently and concisely as she could. Then pulled back very quickly; I was impressed by her reflexes. The briefcase had worked too, somewhat to my amazement. If her reflexes had not been as quick, it would still have saved her hands.

As I pull her to her feet, I can't help pulling her into my arms for a relieved hug. After a minute or so, she pulls back slightly to grin up at me. I praise her actions, and she tells me it was a team effort. I like that. It's not false modesty, just an acknowledgement that we did better together than either of us would alone. Her face is beaming, her eyes shining in relief and joy that mirrors my own. I am trapped in those eyes, and we both still suddenly. I lean forward to kiss her.

I tell myself it will just be a friendly peck, just a shared acknowledgement of a team effort. Right. It's nothing like that. Instead, it's intense, hot, demanding, overwhelming. She opens her mouth, and I don't hesitate to dive in deeper, lost in the kiss, lost in her. Eventually, we are forced apart to breathe; we are both panting, and I press my forehead to hers. I catch my breath, knowing that I need to apologise to her, but I cannot feel regret for that kiss. That was the best kiss I can ever remember. Still, I start to blurt out an apology, until I am stopped by her finger on my lips. Even that small touch is burning hot. She acknowledges that we both wanted that kiss, then tells me it was amazing. It was. Beyond amazing. I agree.

I surprise myself as we step back slightly by adding, "I wouldn't mind doing it again." It's not quite a question, not quite a request, but I knew she would hear the implication. And she tells me she wants to do it again as well, and I hide the rush of elation at that, I think. I tell her it's a plan and she chuckles.

I chuckle myself as she asks me what we should do now and calls me soldier. I don't mind it as a nickname. It's kind of flirtatious from her, in a subtle way, and certainly more masculine than being called 'honey' or any other pet term. I tell her we are probably going to have to wait again, and we resume sitting on the floor, but close to the doors, so we can hear more easily if, when, someone comes to help. I am glad to see both of my shoes lying nearby, and I relace them back onto my feet. At least I won't need to be rescued in my socks.

Steph pulls her water out and allows herself a larger gulp of water. We both know that rescue is coming now, and the humiliation of pissing in the corner is unlikely. I follow her lead, and she pulls out her crappy snack food to eat more. When she offers it to me, I cannot help telling her, "Seriously, how can you eat that crap, Babe? Do you know what kind of hydrogenated fat and chemicals are in that? Not to mention the sugar."

Her Jersey Girl attitude comes through again as she tells me that this kind of food is the base of her diet. Now I am horrified, and I wonder out loud how she can eat like that and stay so trim. She tells me it is her genetics, and she expects it will last to her mid-thirties. But even so, I ask her about vitamins and nutrition. There is absolutely none in that crap she is scoffing down.

I am amused when she turns the tables on me, giving me a derisive look as she accuses me of being a health nut, pumping iron and drinking shakes. I decide not to tell her I add protein powder to my smoothies in the morning. After all, they're not really shakes, just a boost. Extra protein is always a good idea when you work out every day. It helps with muscle repair. Instead, I tell her I am just conscious of the food I consume as fuel and try to motivate her by telling her how much better I feel, eating a healthy diet. I doubt it has worked though, and she confirms my suspicions as she tells me she is going to eat the crap since it is what she has.

She adds slyly, "You could eat the Cheerios. They've got vitamins and minerals added, you know." I smile slightly but shake my head. I can tell she is just teasing me anyway, and I like it. Having finished her 'food', she pulls first her handbag over to get a tissue and wipes her hands. Then she pulls over the mangled briefcase and uses it as a trash receptacle for the tissue and snack packet.

I cannot help but laugh out loud at her quips honouring the sacrifice of the briefcase. She is very witty, and I pull her into a one-armed hug to tell her so. Suddenly, I find myself rocked by the realisation that I am not just attracted to this woman because she is sexy and responsive, or even because she is clever and sassy. I like her. Genuinely like her. So, I tell her.

The look on her face is wondrous. She seems as taken aback by my declaration as I am by my realisation, but it's only a moment before her beaming smile re-emerges. This time, it is Steph that leans forward to press her lips to mine, and I don't wait long to take advantage and deepen the kiss. We are once again lost in each other's embrace as we lose track of time.

In a small part of my brain still functioning normally, I know now that I am lost to this woman.

How did I let that happen?

After my compulsory marriage to a woman I impregnated on a one-night stand, I told myself I would not let any woman have control of my heart and mind. It was not really Rachel that forced that decision, to be fair. Rachel and I had never been in love, it was a night of semi-drunken passion, and a condom that either broke, or just didn't work. It was somewhat of a revelation to me at twenty years old to realise that condoms are not 100 percent effective. To Rachel, at eighteen, if was even more of a shock. Her catholic upbringing, combined with my own and our sense of responsibility, led to a quick registry marriage before my next deployment. It gave her access to my health benefits for herself and the baby and made it legitimate.

I was scheduled to start Ranger training in Georgia after that eight-month deployment, so when Rachel gave birth, I was already at Ranger School. It is a two-month schedule, and there was no way I could leave. I'm honest enough to admit, at least to myself, that I wouldn't have left even if I could. I was a selfish prick at twenty-one, and I was determined to be a Ranger. It seemed like the best thing I could become. Becoming a father seemed remote and like something that happened to other people; not to me. When I graduated on the first attempt, unlike at least half of my peers, I received the William O. Darby Award, for the Distinguished Honor Graduate. It is given to the Ranger that shows the best tactical and administrative leadership performance, has the best reports throughout the training, and is called, 'a cut above the rest'. I was honoured to receive it, and I worked damn hard to get it, but again it sealed my fate. I was destined to be the best, the ultimate Ranger. Fatherhood, or even married life, was not part of my plan.

After Ranger School, I had a three-day leave before I was set to complete a four-week, follow-up, Reconnaissance and Surveillance Leaders Course. This is specialised, expert level training that I knew would likely lead to a lengthy deployment to Iraq or Afghanistan. I didn't have orders yet, but the Army doesn't train its soldiers to that level, or hand out leadership awards, to stick them behind a desk immediately. I didn't want any kind of desk job anyway; it was never part of my plans.

I returned to Miami for my three-day leave, more out of obligation than any particular desire to visit my wife or new baby. I knew it was never Rachel's fault, and I knew that her life had been completely disrupted by this unplanned parenthood, probably even more than mine. I tried very hard not to even think of blaming her or the baby. Still, I resented this intrusion on my future, this unwanted burden on my lone-wolf life. Yeah, I know, selfish prick.

The first time Rachel put the baby in my arms, I didn't want her to. I didn't want to hold her; I didn't even want to acknowledge she existed. But something broke inside me as I looked down into those eyes. My eyes. My skin. My mouth. A barrier broke and I felt love. Unwanted, unbidden, but love. Forever. This was my daughter. And I would always love her. I held her for at least an hour that first time, just looking at her, occasionally talking softly to her in Spanish. Until at last she began to fuss, and Rachel told me she needed to feed her. Reluctantly, I handed Julie to Rachel, and she moved over to a rocking chair to begin breastfeeding her. As I watched my wife breastfeeding a child that I didn't want, but could not help but to love, plans and ideas began to form in my mind. I don't even remember clearly what the plans were, but I know they didn't involve abandoning this precious, innocent, helpless little doll.

Before I even began to solidify those plans, let alone voice any, Rachel looked up from breastfeeding and spoke. "Carlos, I need to tell you, I've met someone. His name is Ron, Ron Martine. We met when I was three months pregnant. His sister was pregnant too, and her husband was deployed overseas in the Navy, so Ron was helping her through the pregnancy. Taking her to appointments and becoming her birth coach. He offered to help me too, since you were deployed as well, and eventually he became my birth coach too. His sister, Leanne, was due a month before me, so he could help us both. Leanne became a friend, and I spent a lot of time with her and Ron. Anyway, we got closer."

"I told him all about how Julie was conceived and that we were only together for the baby. We kind of started dating, although we don't call them dates. I guess we became friends. And no, I haven't slept with him. I wouldn't do that when I'm married to you. But I… I think I love him, Carlos. I think I want a future with him, and I think he wants it too. So… I guess I'm asking you if you… if you will give me a divorce. I promise I'll wait a respectable amount of time before I do anything more with Ron. And I promise you can see Julie if you want to. But I'd like to try with Ron. I don't… I don't want to wait on a husband who doesn't really love me, doesn't even know me. I don't want to wait on a husband who… who may not even come home. I… I'm sorry Carlos." She began to weep softly, and Julie started fussing slightly. Rachel lifted her to burp her on her shoulder and move her to her other breast.

I felt numb, detached from the whole situation. Where am I? What am I doing here? I don't want this! Not any of it. Then I looked back at Julie, and I felt a small piece of my heart breaking. No matter what a selfish bastard I was, I wanted the best for that beautiful little piece of me. I knew Rachel was right. I was being trained as a highly specialised soldier, to be deployed to the worst, most dangerous shitholes of the world. The likelihood I would not come home was all too high. And I couldn't blame Rachel. It was not a love-match, but a marriage for the sake of the baby. She was perfectly entitled to find someone who could love her and be there for her. And for Julie. I felt a bigger pang at that thought. I knew if she pursued this relationship that Julie would become a bigger part of his, Ron's, life than of mine. That hurt. But again, what kind of father would I be? Barely here, hardly knowing her, seeing her infrequently. If this Ron could be a better father than I could, who am I to deny that to her? I couldn't.

I resigned myself to the inevitable. Rachel and I spent the next two days talking through everything. I agreed to the divorce but asked her to introduce me to Ron. If this man was going to be a father to my baby, I needed to know him. He came over the next day to Rachel's house and we talked. He is a good man. Honest, quiet, steady, soft-spoken. The kind of man every woman should want as a husband and a father. He was working as an accountant and was doing night school to become a financial planner. A steady job, with good career prospects. Reliable, mundane career prospects. A likely stay-at-home man and excellent dad. Perfect for Rachel and Julie.

In the end, I had to agree to everything. I said I would not expect regular visitation rights, since I didn't know what my deployment would be. We left it open. Rachel said she would send me pictures and updates on Julie. I left on the last day of my leave to go back to Ranger School for my advanced training. A month later, I received the packet with all the divorce papers. I signed them and sent them back before deploying to Iraq. A year later, I received a letter from Rachel. It contained several photographs of a beautiful little toddler, still with my eyes and skin, laughing and playing. In one of them, she was playing with Ron. The letter also contained more forms. This time they were for me to give up custody of my daughter and allowing Ron to adopt her. Rachel and Ron had married just a year after our divorce, and Ron wanted to raise Julie as his child. It was the best possible thing for Julie, so I signed and returned those papers too. But something in me broke that day.

No, it wasn't Rachel that hardened my heart, made me think I would never let anyone else in. It was Julie. My beautiful little daughter that barely knows who I am. I have seen her at most once per year since that day. I send her birthday presents and Christmas cards. I opened a trust fund for her education after I returned from Afghanistan, and I still pay regularly into it. It's like paying child support, which I am not obliged to do since Ron adopted her, but I do it anyway. It's all I can do. But inside, a hard little knot in my chest told me I will never let another woman or child into my heart.

And now I sit here in this elevator, feeling shocked by the realisation that I may not have any choice in this. Here is a woman, completely different from my ex-wife, but still a beautiful, vibrant, intelligent, and witty woman. And she will likely capture my heart. And I will be vulnerable all over again.

I like her. I'm attracted to her. She's made some good suggestions and offers to help my business. But if I move to Trenton, if I accept her help, I could very well end up in love with her. And I don't know if I can. I don't think I should.

But I also don't know if I can resist.

Got my facts from Wikipedia. Think I got everything right. The Ranger School award is real, and you just know Ranger would be all up in that!