Zeke was talking slow, trying hard not to slur his words.

“You didn’t drive home, did you?”

“Nope.”

“Good,” I said.

“See?” he said, sleepy. “You do care.”

“Go to sleep.”

“I wish you were here, Naomi. I wish we could… I think about that night lying next to you in your bed all the time. I know … I know this is hard for you, but it’s worth it to me. I wanna be that for you.”

“Be what?”

“Worth it.”

I sat up, rubbing the back of my neck. I wasn’t drunk like he was and didn’t know how to respond. “You’re a good guy, Zeke.”

He was quiet for a few seconds. “Oh.”

“What?”

“In my experience, being told by the woman you’re falling for that you’re a good guy isn’t a good thing.”

I smiled. “You’re falling for me?”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“I should probably hit the sack,” I said. “I have to be somewhere early.”

“What is this mystery trip? Work related?”

“No,” I said.

“You couldn’t tell me anyway, could you? Since you’re like CIA or something.”

“No, it’s… I’m visiting Matt.”

“Matt … your husband Matt?”

“I’m going to Virginia. He’s buried at Arlington Cemetery.”

“Whoa. Is this something you do a lot?”

“This is the first time since the funeral.”

He paused. “Help me out here. I don’t know what to say.”

“I still love Matt.”

Several seconds passed. “I know.”

“He’s dead, Zeke. He can’t hurt me, he can’t piss me off, he’s practically reached sainthood. No one will ever be able to top that.”

“I know that too.”

“And you’re just okay with forever being second place to a dead guy?”

He sighed. “I don’t know what we’re doing. I know what I hope we’re doing. But, Naomi, being with you never feels like second place.”

I closed my eyes. “I know this isn’t fair to spring on you when you’re drunk, but I just needed that all on the table. I need you to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“This will be a little tricky. I’m not itching to get hurt either, you know. We both have old stuff we’ll need to work through. But this is worth it. It’s worth it, I’m sure.”

“You’re sure,” I repeated, unconvinced.

“Like, sure sure,” he said, sounding sleepy.

I smiled. “Okay, then. Good night, Zeke.”

“Good night, beautiful.”

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t dream. Matt didn’t come to visit, I wasn’t standing alone in a desert or jungle, on a mission, or conducting a training. I woke up without being covered in sweat, without wet cheeks and red eyes, or sad because I was stateside.