that yet. I don’t suppose we could sleep on it, could we?”
Her shoulders drooped and she looked so sad that he almost caved. So he said, “Did you know that in the two months I’ve lived upstairs, I got more sleep than in the past two years?”
She shook her head and sat up against the headboard to watch him. “Yes ma’am, it’s true. I think you’re my secret weapon, Janie, against the monsters that go bump in the night.” He started pacing.
“Why couldn’t you sleep?” she asked quietly.
He stopped and looked at her. “I took an undercover assignment in Columbia almost two and a half years ago. Before I left, I had to break off a long-term relationship…she wasn’t too keen on waiting to see if I’d be executed.”
Jane leaned forward and reached for him. He stared at her hand for a minute, then took it and sat next to her. “Bitch,” she said. Then laid her head on his broad shoulders. He smirked and murmured, “yeah.”
“I was working with the LAPD—S.W.A.T. We’d been tracking a new cocaine route between Columbia and Baja. Tracy wasn’t too happy about the move from S.W.A.T. to undercover work, so about a week before I flew south she left.”
“Did she see you when you got home?” She was rubbing his back, lightly strumming her fingers along the corded muscles along his spine.
“Nah. She’s married…and pregnant now, from what I understand.” He turned to kiss her on the forehead, and she patted his shoulder and laid back.
“Let’s finish this in the morning, okay?”
He let out a huge breath. “Thank you,” he whispered. He crawled over her body and moved beneath the covers on his side of the bed.
They laid quietly for a few minutes, looking at the ceiling, out the windows; they watched Pop Tart bathe Penny’s face as they prepared for sleep. They looked anywhere but at each other.
Lucas spoke first. “Jane, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin our evening. I can go back to Amber’s apartment if you’d like.” The offer nearly tore his heart from his chest.
She caught him by the wrist. “No! Don’t go, Luke. I don’t know what happened, and you don’t ever have to tell me. It doesn’t really matter, but I would like to hear it if it would give you peace to get it off your chest.”
He took a deep breath and nodded. He let her burrow against his chest, closer to his heart, and turned over their conversation in his head, like she said kids did when they read her books. He could feel the tears burning the backs of his eyes.
After a few minutes of lying quietly in the darkness, he asked: “Why do you write stories for kids now? Did you get tired of traveling?”
He could feel her smile against his collarbone. “You mean, why stay at home to write instead of traveling the world as a top-notch, kick ass journalist?”
He squeezed her in appreciation. “That’s exactly what I meant. Thank you.” He kissed her on top of her head. A tremble jolted her body, and her breath hitched. But she forged ahead.
“I told you that I worked for Condé Nast for a couple of years, right?”
He nodded.
“Well, I was, I guess twenty-five. I was working out of my office in Manhattan, which was really more of a base than a home. Assignments kept me out of the states most of the time and certainly away from my family in North Carolina. Anyway, I had a younger sister.” She paused to wipe the tears out of her eyes.
“Well, she was mom and dad’s little surprise. Samantha—Sam—was her name. She was only fifteen. Oh, God. Yeah, that’s right. Just fifteen. She was in the tenth grade, taking driver’s education. Sam had her first boyfriend, but apparently, he used to date her best friend, Martha. Well, Miss Martha was not a generous enough friend to fully forgive Sam for stealing her boyfriend, Donald. It seems Martha was sort of stringing along Sam as the weeks went by. You know, let’s
Her shoulders drooped and she looked so sad that he almost caved. So he said, “Did you know that in the two months I’ve lived upstairs, I got more sleep than in the past two years?”
She shook her head and sat up against the headboard to watch him. “Yes ma’am, it’s true. I think you’re my secret weapon, Janie, against the monsters that go bump in the night.” He started pacing.
“Why couldn’t you sleep?” she asked quietly.
He stopped and looked at her. “I took an undercover assignment in Columbia almost two and a half years ago. Before I left, I had to break off a long-term relationship…she wasn’t too keen on waiting to see if I’d be executed.”
Jane leaned forward and reached for him. He stared at her hand for a minute, then took it and sat next to her. “Bitch,” she said. Then laid her head on his broad shoulders. He smirked and murmured, “yeah.”
“I was working with the LAPD—S.W.A.T. We’d been tracking a new cocaine route between Columbia and Baja. Tracy wasn’t too happy about the move from S.W.A.T. to undercover work, so about a week before I flew south she left.”
“Did she see you when you got home?” She was rubbing his back, lightly strumming her fingers along the corded muscles along his spine.
“Nah. She’s married…and pregnant now, from what I understand.” He turned to kiss her on the forehead, and she patted his shoulder and laid back.
“Let’s finish this in the morning, okay?”
He let out a huge breath. “Thank you,” he whispered. He crawled over her body and moved beneath the covers on his side of the bed.
They laid quietly for a few minutes, looking at the ceiling, out the windows; they watched Pop Tart bathe Penny’s face as they prepared for sleep. They looked anywhere but at each other.
Lucas spoke first. “Jane, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin our evening. I can go back to Amber’s apartment if you’d like.” The offer nearly tore his heart from his chest.
She caught him by the wrist. “No! Don’t go, Luke. I don’t know what happened, and you don’t ever have to tell me. It doesn’t really matter, but I would like to hear it if it would give you peace to get it off your chest.”
He took a deep breath and nodded. He let her burrow against his chest, closer to his heart, and turned over their conversation in his head, like she said kids did when they read her books. He could feel the tears burning the backs of his eyes.
After a few minutes of lying quietly in the darkness, he asked: “Why do you write stories for kids now? Did you get tired of traveling?”
He could feel her smile against his collarbone. “You mean, why stay at home to write instead of traveling the world as a top-notch, kick ass journalist?”
He squeezed her in appreciation. “That’s exactly what I meant. Thank you.” He kissed her on top of her head. A tremble jolted her body, and her breath hitched. But she forged ahead.
“I told you that I worked for Condé Nast for a couple of years, right?”
He nodded.
“Well, I was, I guess twenty-five. I was working out of my office in Manhattan, which was really more of a base than a home. Assignments kept me out of the states most of the time and certainly away from my family in North Carolina. Anyway, I had a younger sister.” She paused to wipe the tears out of her eyes.
“Well, she was mom and dad’s little surprise. Samantha—Sam—was her name. She was only fifteen. Oh, God. Yeah, that’s right. Just fifteen. She was in the tenth grade, taking driver’s education. Sam had her first boyfriend, but apparently, he used to date her best friend, Martha. Well, Miss Martha was not a generous enough friend to fully forgive Sam for stealing her boyfriend, Donald. It seems Martha was sort of stringing along Sam as the weeks went by. You know, let’s
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