Chapter 6 - OUR MARRIAGE WITHOUT THE UNIFORM
I took off my uniform.
Sat in hotel room.
Looked at myself.
Who were Ethan and I without ranks?
We met before either career mattered.
Cheap coffee.
Running club.
Bad apartment.
We were happy.
At least I thought.
Then promotions began.
I advanced faster in certain assignments.
Ethan smiled publicly.
Privately:
Must be nice having Hayes notice you.
I dismissed it.
Then:
Your job is paperwork with better branding.
Dismissed.
Then:
People like women investigators because it looks progressive.
That one hurt.
I fought with him.
He apologized.
Flowers.
Dinner.
Cycle.
Not physical abuse.
No screaming terror.
Something quieter.
He minimized every achievement until I stopped discussing them at home.
I thought I was protecting marriage from competition.
Actually I was making myself smaller.
Then I remembered banquet invitation.
Ethan asked me to wear burgundy uniform.
Why?
“Looks good on you.”
Maybe.
Or he wanted controlled version of me.
Decorated enough to impress.
Quiet enough not to eclipse.
Then Hayes called.
Ethan wanted to speak to me.
I could refuse.
I agreed with counsel present.
He looked exhausted.
First words:
“I never meant for any of this to happen.”
Wrong start.
I said:
“Which part?”
Silence.
“Using my credentials?”
“Grace—”
“Vanessa?”
“No affair.”
“I didn’t ask.”
He flinched.
“Mercer?”
“I was trying to position myself.”
“With internal information.”
“I never gave him classified material.”
“Congratulations on clearing the lowest bar available.”
He looked away.
Then:
“You don’t understand what it’s like being married to you.”
I almost laughed.
“There it is.”
“You walk into a room and people notice.”
“I never asked you to compete.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you?”
He finally looked at me.
“Because Mom spent my entire life telling me I was supposed to be extraordinary.”
There was Patricia again.
Then Ethan said:
“And then I married someone who actually was.”
I felt no triumph.
Only sadness.
Because I had loved a man who interpreted my success as evidence of his failure.
Then he said:
“I used your login because I needed to know whether Halcyon was under review.”
“Why?”
His answer:
“Because Mercer told me he could make me a colonel someday.”
I stared.
A hypothetical future rank.
That was what he gambled us for.
Then he added:
“But Mercer wasn’t the person running this.”
My attention sharpened.
“Who was?”
Ethan looked toward his attorney.
Then back.
“Someone inside Army acquisition.”
May you like
The investigation was bigger than my marriage.
Much bigger.
