Thanks for all your kind comments! This is the 3rd of 4 chapters. I hope you enjoy it!

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It was not a good idea to drink alone, she knew. She had seen that too many times at her dad's bar. There was always someone who would come in and sit at the end of the bar and down drink after drink and then stagger back through the door without a word to anyone. Worse yet were the people who would come home with a fifth of scotch and sit silently at the kitchen table refilling the empty shot glass.

Not that she was one of those types. She convinced herself she was being a cosmopolitan single gal, drinking a glass or two of shiraz while listening to music. It was a perfectly acceptable way to spend a Friday night.

It was, of course, perfectly acceptable. It was how she had chosen to spend many an evening in the past rather than be with Woody or anyone else. Now, the choices had been narrowed and she sat with her glass wallowing in the misery of her aloneness.

The guilt over Devan's death had passed into sadness. Jordan hadn't particularly liked her, but they had worked side by side and Jordan had known something of her dreams for a future that would never arrive.

And then there was Woody. Reliable, steady Woody. She always thought he would be there somehow. It had never occurred to her that he might grow weary of the chase. No matter how often she had rebuffed him, he always seemed to come back full of undiminished eagerness.

It was so very convenient, this thing she had with Woody. She never wanted for companionship. Or an appreciative eye when she wore a new dress or had her hair done. She enjoyed his company, and she supposed she was attracted to him in a way. She cared about him, too, and wanted good things for him. It was really the perfect relationship without all those messy emotions. Not that she was in love with him.

No. Not love. Was it?

The thought struck her. Could she be in love with Woody? The only other times she had professed to being in love was with married men or other paramours who were somehow unattainable. But here was someone who had been in front of her all along who wanted her. She couldn't possibly love him, could she?

A few months earlier, he had come over on a Friday night with a pizza and a movie. It was one of those Tom Hanks-Meg Ryan romantic comedies that she publicly berated but secretly loved. In the end, the seemingly mismatched couple realized they were in love and the end credits rolled to a sappy Celine Dion ballad.

He clicked the TV off and launched into a story about a case he was working on. She sat across the room from him, her chin resting on her knees, and pretended to be listening. But she was really looking at him as if she had never actually taken a good look at him before: his blue eyes, his mouth, his gentle hands, the reassuring warmth in his voice.

Maybe things between us could work out, she thought to herself, and she knew suddenly that she wanted to kiss him.

"Yoo-hoo? Jordan?"

"Wuh?"

"I was just saying how I should hit the road."

"Oh, sure..." She walked him to the door, and he turned to face her.

"Well, good night, Jordan." How many times had they stood like this at her door, and she had sent him home unrequited? She felt her heart racing. She peeled her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

"Good night, Woody." But there was nothing. He threw his coat on and headed down the hall.

It was not terribly exciting, this thing with Woody. She supposed that is why she had never thought it was love. There was no drama, no games. But it was constant and tender and true.

It was as if a lightning bolt had hit her and it threw her to her feet.

"Oh, my God..." she found herself saying aloud. And then quietly, "I do love him."

She remembered Garret's words. If she really loved Woody, perhaps she should just keep it to herself. Whatever his feelings for Devan were, he needed to time to deal with them.

No. She had already wasted three years, and no one had ever accused her of showing restraint. She wasn't drunk, but she could convince herself that she was, and anything she said could not be held against her.

Garret. What did he know?

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It seemed an inordinate time between the moment she knocked and the moment he finally answered the door. She worked on a appropriate look of breezy casualness.

"Surprise!"

"Jordan..." It was a surprise, and not a completely welcome one, she gathered from the stern set of his jaw.

"I was just in the neighborhood..." She stepped past him into his apartment.

"Jordan, have you been drinking?"

She held her thumb and index finger up a hair's width apart. "Just a little." She let out a little tinkle of a laugh.

"So...what are you doing here?"

"I was thinking of you all by your lonesome here on a Friday night, so I thought I'd come over and take you out for pizza. Whaddya say? Pizza?"

He exhaled noisily and ran a hand through his hair. Finally he put his hands on his hips and looked at her unmovingly. "I don't think so, Jordan."

"Come on! That's the third time in a row you've turned me down. You could give a girl a complex." She laughed again nervously. He didn't speak, but remained standing impassively by the door with his hands on his hips.

She moved around the room, suddenly feeling like an unwelcome stranger in a place she had been many times before.

"You moved the sofa."

"Oh. Yeah. I did that awhile ago."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't know since I haven't been here in awhile."

"Hoooo-kay. You want to tell me what's going on, Jordan?"

"Nothing! I haven't seen you in awhile. Can't I just stop in? We used to have our Friday night thing, remember? Kind of like your Sunday night thing with Devan and the mooshu from Wing Wah's or wherever. So, it must have been really good, that mooshu, to have it every Sunday." It had been an attempt at conversation, to change the subject until she could work up to her confession, but she realized immediately it came out angry and spiteful.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hey, nothing. Don't mind me." She held up her hands apologetically. "I shouldn't have brought it up." He was standing in the kitchen now leaning uneasily against the island. "Aren't you going to offer me a drink or something?"

He turned toward the refrigerator, and she curled up on one end of the sofa.

He came back into the room and stood in front of her with a bottle of spring water. "Here. Water. You can take it with you."

She looked up at him with stunned eyes. She was being dismissed. "Look. I'm sorry. I'll behave. It's just..." She sighed. "I miss you," she said simply. "I haven't seen you in awhile, and I miss you. Can't we just sit here and talk like friends?"

He stood for a moment and then finally sat hesitantly on the opposite end of the sofa.

"Yeah. I guess it has been awhile, Jordan." Was that regret in his voice? "Things have been. Well...you know."

"I know. Life is short, huh? It makes me start thinking about what's important. All the things I'm missing out on." She took a gulp of air. "Like...love." He cocked his head and looked at her quizically. "I mean, it's Friday night. I'm sitting in my apartment by myself wondering if I'm destined to be alone for the rest of my life."

"You'll find someone, Jordan. You will." He patted her arm patronizingly. She supposed that should have been her answer and she should make a hasty exit, but she continued.

"Well, that's just it." Her voice lowered to a sultry whisper. "I think I have found someone." She looked up at him. His eyes narrowed. "Someone who was right under my nose all the time."

She eased across the sofa to him and leaned in, her mouth agonizingly close to his.

"Don't do this, Jordan..."

The air around them crackled with tension.

"Don't do what?" she murmured. She brushed her lips against his. He sat unmoving for a moment, and then leaned into her almost imperceptibly. Then his mouth was on hers, and he responded with urgency. He ran his hand up her back and into her hair, and his breath quickened with hers.

Then, suddenly, his hands pushed her shoulders back, he broke the kiss and leapt to his feet.

"Don't! You're not going to do this to me, Jordan. Not now. I am thirty years old, and I haven't had a serious relationship since I came to Boston. Why? Because I was waiting for you. I let you string me along for three years, and shame on me for letting you do it, but you're not going to get another opportunity."

"String you along? I think I made it pretty clear I wasn't interested in a relationship."

"Yeah, so clear, you were perfectly willing to let me chase you and take you dancing and skiing and out to a fancy dinner every time you needed your ego stroked."

"Is that what you think our relationship was all about? An ego boost for me?" she asked hurtfully.

"I don't know what it was about, Jordan, other than all kinds of messed up."

"Well, you must have been getting something out of it, too, or you wouldn't have hung around for three years."

"Oh, I was. I was getting you. Or as much of you as were willling to give up. I loved you, Jordan. " His use of the past tense sent an unpleasant jolt through her. "I loved you so much I thought those little pieces of you would be enough. And then I finally figured out that I could never fit those little pieces together to make a whole, and it just about knocked me flat. Then Devan came along, and things were going good and then some idiot decides to take down an air marshal. And now I'm just starting to get my bearings back. So, don't do this to me." His voice shook with emotion.

She stood in front of him, an accusing finger in his face. "You know what? You're a coward, Woody. I'm standing here pouring my heart out to you. You're finally getting what you've always wanted, and you won't take it. Because you're afraid to commit."

"Me? God, if that weren't so sad it would be hilarious, Jordan. You know, maybe you're right in some warped way. Maybe I'm afraid to commit to someone who could just as easily change her mind tomorrow. Maybe I'm afraid to commit someone who's going to take the quickest route out of town at the first sign of trouble. Maybe, just maybe, I'm afraid to commit to someone who's got more issues than National Geographic!"

She stumbled backward as if she had been physically struck. They stood frozen for a moment, he as shocked at his own words as she. She turned finally and lurched for the door.

"Jordan, wait..." He grabbed for her wrist, but she shook loose.

He followed her as she careened down the stairs and onto the street, pleading her not to go.

"Jordan, come on! Don't leave like this. Let's talk. I'm sorry..." She fumbled for her car keys as he stood in the rainy chill, barefoot. "I should never have said that. Please don't go."

If she opened her mouth, she knew she would cry. She jumped into her car and slammed the door resolutely.

"Jordan!" She could hear him call even as she drove away. The tears did not start until she had driven out of his sight. She pulled over onto the shoulder as cars whizzed past her, and she sobbed with abandon, accompanied only by the steady swoosh of the windshield wipers against the torrent of rain.