He nodded. "Well, that's as good a reason as any. Now let me ask you this, have you thought about what job you'd like to do?"

"Uh, not really. I kind of just decided I was gonna do this about half an hour ago."

He laughed. "Right. Well, what are you good at?"

I thought about that for a second. "I'm a great swimmer and I'm good at extreme sports."

Petty Officer Mitchell studied me again for a couple seconds. He nodded his head toward a poster of a group of men in dive gear, machine guns in hand emerging from the water. "Ever heard of a Navy SEAL?"

"A SEAL? Yeah, of course. I'd be suited to be a SEAL?" I asked.

"Well, I don't know. You'd need to score really high on a test called the ASVAB and then pass a physical test during basic training that will ensure you a spot in BUD/S, which stands for Basic Underwater Demolition SEAL Training." He paused, eyeing me, but I remained silent. He went on. "Then you have to make it through basic training and A-School. And then, if you're lucky enough to make it to BUD/S, only about twenty percent of men actually make it through, which means eighty percent fail. So, are you suited to be a SEAL? Not many men are. But if you're a good swimmer and you like sports that are dangerous and take a high level of skill, it's a decent start. But I'll be honest with you, BUD/S is the most rigorous military training on the face of the planet earth. Think on it carefully."

I nodded, furrowing my brow. I didn't need to think on it carefully. My answer came to my lips almost before my brain could process it. "Let's get started," I said.

Grace

I sat on my bed half-heartedly studying. My heart was heavy and I felt a longing inside me that I didn't know what to do with. I missed him, plain and simple. When was this going to get better? It had been a couple days since I'd gotten home from Vegas and it felt like my feelings were intensifying instead of weakening. I had only known him for two and a half days. Didn't it make sense that I could forget him in that amount of time too? I sighed and lay back on my pillow, staring at the ceiling. What was he doing right now? I cringed when I thought of the very real possibility that he was on set again. Then again, he'd told me that he had only made four films in six months and he'd just made one a couple days before. A fierce surge of disgust rose up in me when I pictured him with someone else, even someone he'd never see again. I wanted to scream at the very thought. And then I wanted to throw myself on the floor and cry until I was exhausted and numb. That's what you get when you develop feelings for a porn star. I was an idiot, just like Abby had jokingly called me.

But how had he handled it? Had it been hard for him too, like he'd told me it would be? He'd said I'd changed things for him. And realistically, what that meant was that my short-term legacy would be that I made his life more difficult. I couldn't feel badly about that. I hoped I had ruined his ability to do porn. He could do so much more. I couldn't be the one to make up his mind about that though. He'd have to do that himself. It's why I had walked away. It's why I had had no choice but to walk away. God, he probably wished he'd never met me.

I didn't feel that way about him though, as much as I hurt. I knew what he did, but he was more to me than that. If he weren't, it would have been easy to walk away. I might have even run. And therein lay the problem. An impossible problem.

I lay there for a little while longer, lost in my thoughts when I got a very, very bad idea. I wrestled with it for a few minutes before I stood up and grabbed my laptop off my desk. I powered it up and sat cross-legged on my bed, my hands shaking as I typed his name into Google search. The first site on the list was a website called ArtLove.com and against my better judgment, I clicked on it. I knew this was a bad idea and yet it was like I was possessed. I was powerless to stop myself.

"Grace?" Abby called, as I heard the front door shut.

"In here," I called back, reducing the screen before it had fully loaded.

I heard her footsteps and looked up from the computer when she appeared in my doorway in her school uniform, black pants and a white chef's coat.

"What are you doing?" she asked, taking her hair out of the ponytail it was in and massaging her scalp.

"Um, looking up porn," I said, half-grimacing, half-smiling.

Abby's hand froze in her hair. "Uh, okay. You do have a lock on your door, you know?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm looking up Carson, Abby," I said.

She stared at me for a minute. "Honey, is that such a good idea?" she asked gently.

"Probably not, but it's like I have to see it. I have to know the reality of it. I have to move on." I looked at her sadly.

She hesitated, but then came and sat down on the bed next to me. "All right then, doll, I'm gonna hold your hand."

"Thanks, Abs," I said as I clicked on the reduced screen to bring it up. I gasped.

I had never looked at porn before and so I had no idea what to expect. My eyes grew large as I saw naked people engaged in all-manner of sex acts. "Oh my God," I breathed.

I looked over at Abby and her head was tilted and a small smile was on her face. "This is the site he works for?" she asked.

I nodded. "He said he has a two-year contract. It must be with this site. Why?"

She looked at me. "Have you ever seen porn, honey?"

I shook my head.

"Well, compared to what's out there, this is actually very… artistic."

I looked back at the screen. I could see what she meant. Most of the scenes were on beautiful beaches or in opulent looking homes or patios. The people were all good-looking. I scrolled down, looking more closely. Seriously, the women looked like they could be supermodels. Why did they do this? Same reason Carson did, I guess? Didn't it cause real relationship problems for them too? Both now and later? I shook my head, attempting to clear it. This would never make sense to me.

When I tried to click on one of the videos, a pop up box came up saying that if I wanted to watch the full video, I would need to become a member, and spelling out the different membership options.

I glanced at Abby and then typed Carson's name into the site search bar. Immediately, a page loaded and I let out a tiny gasp. There were stills of Carson actively having sex with different women in multiple screen shots. My brain couldn't keep up with my eyes as I let out a small, choked sob and Abby squeezed my hand, saying "Let's turn this off, honey…"

"No, not yet," I said, my voice sounding very far away to my own ears. I needed to see this. I needed to see the truth of what he did.

"Gracie, these are things he did before he even met you," she said quietly.

"These ones are, Abby, but if I come back here and look next month, there will be a new one, maybe two," I said miserably.

Abby squeezed my hand. "You won't do that though right, hon?"

I shook my head. "No, just this once. I just need to remind myself why I can't contact him. Why I have to let him go."

She shook her head sadly and we both looked at the photos in silence for a minute.

"Holy hell, sweetie, you were right, he's hot."

I looked at her, my brows snapping down.

"Sorry, not helpful," she muttered, looking back at the screen.

As I too looked back at the photos, feeling simultaneously empty and sickened, it registered that the look on his face was… wrong. It was… it was the same look I had seen on his face in the lobby of the Bellagio when we first met and then again at the bar. It wasn't the look that had been on his face when he was with me in bed. He had his mask on in these pictures. But it was little comfort. I felt the vomit rise up my throat, and I stumbled off the bed and ran to the bathroom just in time to lose my lunch.