“Not at all. Come on in.” I stepped back, and Sam walked straight through the entry to high-five Finley.

“How’s it going, Fin?”

“Hey, Sam!” She leaned around Sam and stared at the door, which served as another slice to my soul. Not that it mattered. It was pretty much death by a thousand tiny cuts around here right now.

“Just me today,” Sam said with enough perk that Finley’s face fell only slightly. “But she did bake you some cookies this morning!” She dug into her bag and produced a Ziploc full of chocolate chip cookies.

“Really? Yay!” Fin took the cookies and disappeared toward the kitchen, still wearing Claire’s purse.

Cue the most awkward moment of my life.

“How about I take Fin down to the water for…” Claire glanced between Sam and me. “A while. Text me when you’re ready?”

I nodded my thanks, and Claire ushered Fin and her cookies out the door.

“Can we sit?” Sam asked.

“Sure.”

Once we were at the dining room table, Sam pulled out her phone, a laptop, and the small, silver tape recorder that usually lived on Morgan’s counter.

“Does she know you’re here?” Even asking was painful.

“Hell no. She’d slaughter me for what I’m about to do, which means I’m trusting you to keep this between us. But, before we start, do you want to explain why your ex has her suitcase in your entry? Or should I just jump to conclusions?” Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Claire is moving in so Finley can stay in our home while I’m gone,” I answered easily. “We’re not together. We’re never going to be together again. I’m just trying to make it as easy as possible on my daughter.”

Sam studied me for a second and then nodded, as if accepting my answer. “Okay then. Because I’m not about to risk one of my closest friendships if you’re already moving on. Get me?”

“I’m not moving on. I’m not exactly hopeful, but not moving on.” I rested my elbows on the table. “It’s only three months, Sam. She threw me out and slaughtered me for three damned months.”

Sam sighed. “You’re not wearing her glasses.”

“She doesn’t wear glasses,” I countered.

“Not the kind of glasses I’m referring to.” She rolled her eyes. “When you think about this deployment, what’s your first concern?”

“Easy. Who is taking care of Finley? Where is she staying? How do I keep connected to her? How do I make her feel secure and safe? Not that Morgan isn’t a giant clusterfuck—”