You sat at the corner booth waiting for him. Waiting for Soldier Boy. Again. He was late like always, but this time, it felt different. You swirled your drink, staring at the condensation forming on the glass, wondering how you’d ended up here. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. God, you loved him, his cocky grin and the way he kissed you like you were the only thing in his world. But that was just it. You weren’t the only thing. When the door finally creaked open, you saw him, tall, broad-shouldered, his trademark smirk plastered across his face. He had a gift bag in hand, but it looked hastily put together, the tissue paper crumpled. “Hey, doll” He slid into the booth across from you. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a bitch.” “Was it? Or were you too busy entertaining your ‘fans’ again?” He chuckled, not even bothering to deny it. “C’mon, you know how it is. They can’t get enough of me. But I’m here now, aren’t I?” He slid the gift bag toward you. “Merry Christmas.” You eyed the bag but didn’t touch it. “You think a gift is gonna make up for blowing me off? For not treating me like I’m more than just some…some girl you see when it’s convenient for you?” His smirk faltered. “Whoa, where’s this coming from? You know I care about you.” “Do you? Because it sure doesn’t feel like it. I’m not asking for much, Ben. Just a little effort. A little…proof that I’m more than an afterthought.” He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “Look, babe, I’m not the flowers-and-candy type. You knew that when we started this.” “Yeah, I did. But I don’t want that stuff, Ben. I want you. All of you. Not just the pieces you decide to give me when it’s convenient.” He stared at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might actually get it that he might finally see what you’d been trying to tell him all along. But then, he stood up, tossing a couple of bills on the table. “You’re asking for something I can’t give, sweetheart. That’s just not who I am.”