RICKMAS 2024

Two years later

Olivia stared at the email on her screen, the words blurring together as dread settled in her chest. Her new orders. A new duty station. Not only that, but a promotion. She should feel elated—this was what she’d worked for, the culmination of years of effort and sacrifice. Instead, her stomach churned.

Sinclair.

Leaning back in her chair, she rubbed her temples. This wasn’t completely unexpected, they all knew life in the military was semi-nomadic. Friends were always made and with it came goodbyes, or a least a see you later. Sinclair was different.

Without even realizing it, she’d made a home here. Not just in the small routines of her work life, her modest townhome, or even the familiar streets she drove every day, but with him. In the way he made her laugh until her sides ached, the quiet comfort of his presence after a long day, the unshakable certainty that he was hers, and she was his.

Her hand absently drifted to the thin bracelet around her wrist, a simple gift from him last Christmas. “For when we’re apart,” he’d said, though at the time, neither of them imagined the kind of distance they’d soon face. Her top picks had been Germany in hopes of a lesser distance.

She wanted to tell him, needed to tell him. But how could she when every time she thought about breaking the news, her chest tightened with a guilt she couldn’t shake?

Swallowing hard, Olivia glanced at the clock. He’d be stopping by later to pick her up for what would be her last Christmas party held by John. Funny, how she could now stomach calling him anything other than sir, only to leave. It felt cruel.

Just the thought of seeing Sinclair eased some of her maudlin thoughts. She’d tell him after the party. Tonight wasn’t the night to drop this bomb. For now, she’d push the dread aside and hold onto the moments they still had. Sinclair deserved at least that.

Anderson strolled in, plopping in the chair across from Olivia without preamble.

“Get your orders?”

“Yep. Langley,” Olivia replied, collecting the million forms that required her signature from the printer. “You?”

“Pensacola,” Anderson beamed. Despite herself, Olivia smiled. Anderson had been trying to get to the Florida panhandle for years.

“That’s awesome.” Already, visions of beach trips and bar crawls swam in her mind, but they dulled at the thought of Sinclair’s inevitable absence. Idly, she wondered how he’d handle an offshore fishing trip.

Guess I’ll never know.

Anderson noticed her shift in demeanor and leaned in. “Have you told him yet?”

“No, I just got word.” Olivia fidgeted with the toy plane on her desk that had captivated Sinclair on one of his visits. “How do I even tell him? ‘Hey babe, I’m moving back to the US. See ya whenever they give me a chance to visit?’”

“He’s rich,” Anderson shrugged. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind buying a plane ticket to visit you.”

“We both know it’s not that simple,” Olivia sighed. “It’s not just money. It’s time. How much time is he willing to lose out on?”

“He’s a good dude,” Anderson argued. “If anybody is willing to make it work, it’s him.”

The party was lively. Cheerful conversations, clinking glasses, and the soft glow of Christmas lights draped over every corner of John’s home. Sinclair kept a steady arm around Olivia’s waist, his smile easy, but his thoughts preoccupied. Olivia wasn’t herself tonight.

She smiled when spoken to, laughed politely at jokes, but there was a quietness about her. A weight. It’d been present all night, the way her gaze would linger a second too long on the floor or how her fingers brushed against the bracelet he’d given her. He knew the signs—knew her well enough to sense when something was afoot.

He’d overheard some of the other American discuss where they were transferring next. The locations seemed interesting. Everywhere from Alaska and Hawaii to Idaho and North Carolina. Occasionally he and Olivia had discussed places she could potentially go next, but she always shrugged and explained it was truly the luck of the draw.

After the last conversation they had on the matter, he’d requested a meeting with his job, inquiring about possible openings America. They were receptive to the idea, not wanting to lose their top analyst. They just needed a location. And it appeared there now was one.

The drive back was quiet, Christmas music floating through the speakers. He glanced at her as they passed through the base gates, her profile soft and thoughtful under the dim streetlights.

“Love, is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” she smiled at him, albeit sadly. Like she was trying to commit his features to memory in preparation for never seeing him again. The prospect tore at his heart. “Just thinking.”

“About your transfer?”

It was as if all the air was sucked out of the car, replaced by a heavy silence. Sinclair desperately wanted to extract more information, but he wouldn’t push her. Not tonight. Olivia was already stressed enough.

“Norfolk,” she said suddenly, cutting through the stillness. “I’m going to Norfolk next.”

Sinclair’s grip on the wheel tightened briefly, though his face remained calm. He hadn’t known the exact location until now, but it didn’t matter. He’d made peace with his decision. 

“Where exactly is that?”

“Virginia. About three hours from DC.” 

“Interesting,” Sinclair mused. 

Olivia shifted in her seat, folding her hands tightly in her lap. “I—” She paused, her voice quieter now. “I just… I need to know if there’s still an ‘us.’ If this—” She motioned between them, her gaze uncertain but hopeful. “If this can work.”

Sinclair pulled into her driveway and parked, then turned to face her. A soft, reassuring smile spread across his face as he reached over and took her hand.

“Of course, there’s still an ‘us.’” His thumb brushed over her knuckles. “We’ll make it work.”

The simplicity of his answer caught her off guard, but there was a certainty in his tone that made her truly believe he’d do everything in his power to make it so. He squeezed her hand gently, leaving the conversation at that for the time being.

As they stepped out of the car and into the crisp night air, Sinclair smiled to himself. Norfolk. Now he had the answer he needed, and in a matter of days, his company would too.

Sinclair had always believed in savoring the present, and Olivia’s last months in London became a whirlwind of adventures. He made it his mission to take her to every must-see spot in the city, from the glittering view atop the London Eye to the quiet charm of Greenwich Park. They shared fish and chips by the Thames, explored the winding streets of Camden, and even laughed their way through a tourist-packed visit to Buckingham Palace. He wanted London etched in her memory, not just as the city where she had been stationed, but as the place where they had fallen in love.

In between the outings, Sinclair rolled up his sleeves and helped Olivia, Anderson, and Khan pack. Khan groaned loudly about his orders to Utah, claiming it was “an affront to humanity.” Sinclair chuckled but felt the bittersweet ache of knowing this little circle of friends would soon be scattered. Olivia reminded them that they all had places to stay if visits were ever in the cards, her words tinged with the same hopefulness Sinclair silently carried.

Then came a surprise—a trip Sinclair had planned meticulously. They drove to visit his parents. Olivia had been hesitant, her doubts about their future casting a shadow over the idea. “Are you sure about this?” she’d asked on the way, her voice uncertain. But Sinclair only smiled, his hand resting warmly over hers.

Dinner at the Bryant household was a cozy, laughter-filled affair. Sinclair’s parents were kind and welcoming, their questions curious but impressed. Olivia fit in effortlessly, her natural confidence tempered with a hint of shyness that only made her all the more endearing. Watching her talk with his father about military history and his mother about gardening (Olivia was hopeless) made the trip worth it.

As the evening wound down, Sinclair’s mother pulled him aside, her gaze sharp but tinged with motherly pride. “Don’t let her go, Sinclair,” she said softly. “She’s something special. You’d be a fool to lose her.”

He didn’t need the reminder, but hearing the words solidified what he already knew. By the time he finished explaining his plan there were tears in her eyes. 

“Are you sure?”

Sinclair flicked his eyes to Olivia deep in conversation with his father. “I’m sure.”

Sinclair had never hated mornings. He saw each morning as a new beginning, a fresh slate. But he loathed this particular one. Olivia lay next to him, her dark hair a tumble across the pillow. The previous night had been everything he’d hoped—passionate, tender, and so achingly perfect that it only made what came next harder.

She’d tossed and turned afterward, her restlessness palpable, and Sinclair was fairly certain he’d heard a muffled sniffle or two. His chest tightened at the thought of her hurting. He wanted to reach out, to tell her everything, to stop this unnecessary sadness in its tracks, but he didn’t. Not yet. Not until he had a definitive answer. All he could do was hold her tighter.

At the airport, he watched her navigate the crowd with the precision and focus he admired so much. When the time came, she turned to him, her expression wavering between composure and heartache.

“I’ll see you before you have a chance to miss me,” he promised, his voice steady despite the knot in his throat. Even if his plan failed, he’d make a point to visit soon.

“I’m not ready to go,” she murmured, her words trembling as she flung herself into his arms. She hugged him fiercely, her face buried in his shoulder. He closed his eyes, holding her just as tightly, biting back the urge to reveal that her sadness was unwarranted. But that wouldn’t be fair to either of them with so many pieces still up in the air.

As she disappeared through security, he smiled faintly to himself. Soon, she’d understand. Even if things didn’t go as planned, he’d find a way.

Her new house was plain, nothing like her cozy townhome in England and certainly nothing as fancy as Sinclair’s, but it was hers. She took the plunge and bought a property in a quiet neighborhood with a sizable back yard in preparation for the dog she would soon adopt. Boxes were scattered around the living room, her belongings yet to find their place. Olivia slumped onto the couch, absolutely exhausted. There was also the dull ache, a Sinclair-shaped hole, in her heart.

The job was good, at least. Her new superiors seemed decent, always an initial concern, and the workload was manageable. Honestly, the community morale was great. She’d even caught herself enjoying the familiarity of military life stateside. But none of it filled the void Sinclair had left.

She unpacked in small bursts, the silence of the house unnerving to the point she blasted music. It wasn’t until she picked up a pair of aviator sunglasses from one of the boxes—the ones she bought for Sinclair that he swore made him look like Tom Cruise—that her resolve cracked. She missed him. God, she missed him.

Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her spiral. It was Khan.

“Hey, man,” she answered, her voice bright despite the heaviness in her chest. “How’s Utah?”

“Terrible. My new pilot’s a dick and none of my crew like to hang out,” he complained. “What’s your new address?”

She frowned, rattling it off to him. “Why?”

“None of your business.”

The line clicked off before she could demand an explanation or call him an asshole, leaving her both curious and slightly annoyed. But that was just Khan. Sighing, she returned to her unpacking. Some of Sinclair’s other belongings accidentally migrated to America in their rush to pack, including a well-loved gray sweatshirt, a pair of boxers, and one of his pocket-sized notebooks. She hoped he didn’t need it for work.

Curiosity and longing got the better of her, resulting in her flipping through the pages. Olivia smiled at his near indecipherable rambling scrawl. But a couple words stood out. Words like “visa” and “Virginia.” She looked at the clock, figuring asking for clarification wasn’t worth waking him up. If he hadn’t said anything yet, odds were good this was all a pipe dream. Still it brought a smile to her face he was already planning a visit.

Olivia shrugged out of her flight suit, letting it slide off her shoulders before stepping out of it with practiced ease. Or as Sinclair called it, her work pajamas. The day had been long, but satisfying. She had developed a rhythm here, even if it felt like something was missing, that something being someone. Her thoughts drifted to him as she retrieved a pair of soft shorts and Sinclair’s sweatshirt from a drawer.

A knock sounded at her door, breaking her thoughts. She frowned, glancing at the clock. It was late enough in the day nobody should bother her, and she wasn’t expecting anyone. And answering the door half-dressed wasn’t exactly appropriate. Ignoring it, she tugged on her clothes and walked to the kitchen, brushing aside the faint pang of loneliness.

Then her phone rang. She snatched it up, a smile tugging at her lips seeing it was Sinclair. She answered immediately.

“Hey,” she said, her voice warm but weary.

“Hey beautiful,” came his voice, warm and familiar even over the phone. “How are you?”

“Good, you know… settling in. Just getting used to everything. Work’s good, too. I’m actually unpacked now. Mostly. How about you?” she replied, trying to keep the conversation light, though she could feel the tension creeping into her voice. The distance between them was a literal ocean, even with the phone in her hand. “Why are you calling so late? Isn’t it the middle of the night for you?”

“Depends on the time zone, I suppose” he replied. “It’s about what, 7PM for you, correct?”

“Something like that,” Olivia chuckled, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge before bumping it shut with her hip.

There was a pause. “Olivia, you’re not going to believe this,” Sinclair said, his tone suddenly serious.

She froze, confusion blooming in her chest. “What? What’s going on?”

Instead of answering, there was another knock at the door. Her stomach flipped. She turned toward it, the phone still pressed to her ear. “Sinclair…”

“Go check,” he urged, his voice soft but teasing.

With trembling hands, she opened the door.

And there he was. Dressed in a rumpled suit, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, Sinclair stood on her doorstep with his signature lopsided grin.

Her jaw dropped. “What… What are you doing here?”

“I thought it was time for a visit.” He leaned against the doorframe, nonchalant as ever as his eyes flicked towards her living room. “See the progress in your new home. Is that the painting from the farmer’s market?”

Olivia was busy still trying to process it all. “But..how?”

“I transferred,” he answered simply, like it was really that simple, stepping inside and setting his bag down. “The moment I knew you were leaving, I put in the request. My boss was happy to oblige seeing as how I passed up a previous opportunity here. And as luck would have it, they accommodated. I read there’s more to do here than in Connecticut. Occasionally, I’ll have to travel to London for meetings and what have you, but never longer than a week.”

His explanation went in one ear and out the other. There’d be time to go over the details later. She stared at him, her mind still reeling. “You… You moved here? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he confirmed, stepping closer. “Khan helped. I couldn’t exactly find your place without his help.”

Laughter bubbled up in Olivia’s chest, realizing Khan had played a part of this real life rom-com moment. Tentatively, she reached for him with a trembling hand, if only to assure she hadn’t gone completely mad.

“You’re really here.”

“I really am,” he smiled, lifting her hand to his lips. “I promised you’d see me again before you missed me.”

“Too late,” Olivia snorted, finally coming to terms with this surreal experience. “I missed you the moment I lost sight of you.”

“Ah, we can blame immigration for that,” Sinclair chuckled ruefully. “I lost my notebook with the date of my appointment and had to reschedule.”

“It made its way here with my stuff. Along with your sunglasses.” She plucked the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “And this.”

“Oh, good.” Sinclair perked up. “My Tom Cruise pair? I’ve been looking for them. One less thing to move I suppose.”

“What?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a delicate ring. His eyes met hers, full of earnest warm and hope as he slowly dropped to one knee.

“I’ve spent enough time knowing what it’s like to be without you. Turns out I don’t like it. Major Olivia Grayson, will you marry me?”

Her hands flew to her mouth, tears springing to her eyes as she nodded frantically. “Yes. Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

He laughed, a mixture of relief and joy, and slipped the ring onto her finger before pulling her into his arms for a kiss. When they broke apart, he embraced her again to drop a kiss to the top of her head. “Good. Because I’ve got a lifetime of bad jokes and late-night curry runs to share with you.”

“And trivia,” Olivia laughed through her tears, dragging his face down for another kiss. 

And so, two people, each quietly nursing the wounds inflicted by their respective divorces, crossed paths at a coffee shop one cold evening—a fleeting moment that neither realized would matter. Weeks later, fate brought them together again at a Christmas party Olivia had almost skipped, the same event Sinclair attended expecting nothing more than good friends and excellent food. 

What began as polite conversation became something far deeper, a connection neither anticipated. They didn’t know it then, but they’d found exactly what they needed in each other: a partner who understood, who challenged, and who celebrated the other. In the unlikeliest of ways, they turned a chance encounter into a love story that proved their pasts didn’t define their futures.