“Okay, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you or should I tell Mom and Dad so they can harass you about it?” Jane’s sister demanded, her hands on her hips as she loomed over Jane.
Jane had been lying on her comfy couch, a carton of ice cream in her lap, when her sister had marched into her apartment as if she owned the place and started the interrogation. “I don’t see what the big deal is,” Jane said defensively, sliding up into a cross-legged position. “I took a week off work so I could chill out for a while. Why is that cause for concern?”
“Because you never take time off,” Liz said, her blonde ponytail flipping as she plopped down on the couch. “You’ve practically lived in your office for the past two years.”
“Well, I needed a break.” She jammed her spoon into the carton and brought out a scoop of cookie dough ice cream, which she swirled around in her mouth before swallowing. God, ice cream was the best thing ever. She’d been back in LA for a week now, and so far, the only thing that had managed to cheer her up was ice cream.
“Why?” Liz pressed, her brown eyes filling with concern. “What happened in San Diego, Janie? You’ve been depressed ever since you got back.”
“I’m not depressed.”
“Sad then.”
“I’m not sad.”
Liz groaned with frustration. “I will call Mom. She’ll get the truth out of you.”
Jane sighed. She set down the ice cream carton on the glass coffee table and turned to her sister. “Fine, I’ll tell you what’s wrong, but please don’t tell Mom, okay?”
Triumph lit her sister’s eyes. “I knew something was wrong. Tell me everything.”
With another sigh, Jane spilled her guts. She told Liz all about Becker, the wild sex, her growing feelings for him, how he’d ended it before it could even begin. She finished by confessing how she’d spent her final night in San Diego—drunker than drunk. She left out the part about Ryan being there that last night, since it wasn’t important. Nope, the only truly important thing was how desperately she missed Thomas Becker.
“Then call him,” Liz said quietly when Jane voiced the thought out loud.
“I can’t. He made it clear he doesn’t see a future with me. He wants some perfect, obedient little housewife who’ll pop out half a dozen babies for him, and we both know I’m neither perfect nor obedient,” Jane said wryly.
Her sister grinned. “No, obedient you most certainly are not. Not perfect either, but…” Liz’s voice was laced with affection as she said, “You’re an amazing woman, Janie. Any man would be lucky to have you.”
“Too bad the one I want doesn’t see it that way.”
She went for the ice cream again, but Liz intercepted her, pushing the carton out of reach. “Thomas Becker is obviously an idiot, Janie. If he can’t see what’s right in front of him, then he doesn’t deserve you.”
Jane didn’t answer. Liz was probably right, but that didn’t mean she could just erase her feelings for Becker. It was so messed up. She’d only spent a week with the man. One freaking week, yet she’d connected with him in a way she never had with any other man.
“Come on, get up,” Liz suddenly ordered. She stood up and held out her hand. “Let’s go.”
She allowed her sister to help her to her feet. “Where are we going?”
“Anywhere. You need to get out of the apartment and stop thinking about Becker.”
Jane glanced down at her ratty sweat pants. “I’m not even dressed.”
“Then get dressed.” Liz’s chin lifted with determination. “We’ll go get a manicure, or see that new Brad Pitt movie, or just walk down Sunset and window shop.”
“I don’t—”
“No argument,” Liz interrupted. “Now get dressed so we can work on helping you put Thomas Becker right out of your mind, okay?”
The image of Becker’s serious face and spectacular body floated into her mind, eliciting a spark of hurt. She quickly pushed it aside, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go,” she said quietly.
Becker had no clue why he agreed to shoot pool with Carson on Thursday night. Ever since the night he’d seen Jane and Ryan in the parking lot of the hotel, draped all over each other, he’d avoided his fellow SEALs, especially Carson. There had been a couple of messages on his cell phone from Carson, and one from Holly, the day after he’d stopped by their place, but Becker hadn’t returned the calls. Those two had been the reason he’d gone to see Jane in the first place, and look how that turned out.
Fuck. There he went, thinking about her again. It had almost become a twisted game, counting how many times the thought of Jane slid into his mind. The current tally was six, and pathetically, that was just in the last hour.
“I’m still waiting to hear why you’ve been avoiding me this entire week,” Carson said casually as he racked the balls on the pool table.
“I’m not avoiding you,” Becker lied.