"Yeah, I slept in my old room last night. And, uh, can I ask you something? Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I like it."

"Really? Don't get used to it."

"Look at my father over there. He's watching us like a hawk."

"He's a good guy."

"I'm worried about him. He's building his own coffin."

"He's an eccentric."

Mitchell nodded. "You know, if we stay out here any longer, they're going to start talking about us."

"I know. When are you flying out?"

"Tomorrow morning."

She lifted her head and locked gazes with him. "After this is over, you're coming home with me."

"I am?"

"You questioning my orders?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then be quiet and listen to me complain. I can't believe after all these years you still haven't learned to dance."

They were tipsy but hardly drunk by the time they left the banquet hall. Kristen drove them in her little white sports car back to her condo, a two-bedroom affair that was also home to her two cats.

She had lots of big, country-style furniture and had an affinity for plaid. The place felt homey and clashed with her sophisticated gown and hairstyle.

"I need to be back to the house by oh seven thirty," he said. "I have to get to the airport, return my rental car, and make my flight."

"Tomorrow's Sunday. Don't worry about it. I'll get you there."

"Kristen, I shouldn't be here. All we're doing is torturing ourselves."

She pulled her hair out of the bun and shook free her long curls. "No. It's not like that at all."

An hour later, they lay in silence, just watching the shadows shift across the ceiling as headlights filtered in through the long windows.

She leaned over and began tracing the scar on his belly. "What happened here?"

"Stupid accident in my shop."

"It's a strange-looking scar, like one of those Asian tattoos or something."

"Why aren't you married?"

"I don't know. Maybe the same reason you aren't."

"Your job takes you all over the world for years at a time?"

She hissed. "You know what I mean."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's our luck."

"My dad thinks I'll fall back in love with you, quit the army, and stay here."

"I don't think that's what he wants for you."

"Oh, yeah it is."

She shook her head. "Back in April, when I went over to the house to drop off his taxes, I caught him out in the shop, staring at a picture of you. He's got it hung on the wall above his workbench."

"There's no picture there."

"There was. Your dad showed me a red, white, and blue ribbon on your uniform. He said it was the Silver Star. He said you had to do something very special to earn that."

"So that's why you were looking at my medals?"