Cassie slept in the guest room, Colt putting his foot down when he came home to find them completely shit-faced. A reasonable reaction since they’d consumed a fifth of tequila, not to mention an entire jumbo bag of tortilla chips and a whole thirty-two-ounce jar of queso. It meant she had to get up extra early—while battling a major hangover—drive the thirty minutes to her apartment, shower, change, manage the commute back to the island during rush hour, and still be to work on time.

This left no room for her morning run, not that she felt like it, anyway. She would have to squeeze it in later, however; running was the only thing that kept her from blowing up like a balloon because she liked to eat. Mexican, most of all, which sadly wasn’t part of any diet plan anywhere, and when accompanied by at least two cocktails, usually jumbo size frozen margaritas, brought her day’s end calorie total to astronomical. Thus, she forced herself to tackle at least three miles every day, taking Sunday off only if she didn’t overindulge on Friday and Saturday.

After work, she changed into her running gear and drove north. Sandwiched between the island’s two naval properties, Coronado Village was a quaint little town. With lovely homes and condos—many in the seven-figure price range and those that weren’t, still way beyond her budget—it also had boutiques, mom & pop shops, and picturesque parks. Best of all, since it was on an island, she had her choice of two spectacular views; the San Diego Bay to the east or the Pacific Ocean on the west with the stunning sunset to keep her company either way.

Tonight, she chose the bay side, having a taste for a chai tea latte from the Bay Front Coffee Company when she was done. She pulled into Centennial Park situated right next to the water, then checked the time. An hour run would give her fifteen minutes before they closed.

Getting her heart rate up to a reasonable calorie burning rate, she maintained it while taking a path along the water, sharing it with other joggers, sightseers, dog walkers, bikers, and seagulls all seeming to enjoy yet another unseasonably warm day. When she finished her three-mile circuit and did a ten-minute cooldown, she reached the waterfront boardwalk. Up a few steps was an outdoor seating area in front of the small, but well-known coffee vendor, so popular that at 7:45 at night, there was still a line. As she took her place at the end, she scanned the lights of the city in the distance, noting how they reflected off the water in an array of colors. It was a lovely spot, and she noticed several couples seated at tables for two, taking in the panoramic views together.

While she waited, the tinkling sound of laughter drew her attention. She turned and found the source, a stunning raven-haired woman with a dazzling white smile. When her gaze swept over the tawny-haired man who was making her laugh, Cassie froze. It was Flynn. Leaning in, with a smile on his handsome face, he whispered something—a joke, or something else equally amusing apparently—into her ear. She had pictured him often in a similar scene, but instead of the beauty he was with—whose dark coloring perfectly contrasted his own—Cassie had imagined her blonde head next to his and she’d be the one on the receiving end of his attention.

Staring in disbelief, her sense of loss went beyond pain. Never once had she considered he had a girlfriend. She’d never thought to ask, and he’d never mentioned it. Why would he? While she’d been busy imagining herself as the woman in his arms, he’d never considered it. She took a lurching step back. As she did, Flynn looked up and directly at her. He lifted his chin in greeting, then his hand came up, and he waved her over.

Cassie deliberately misinterpreted and waved back. She turned, chai tea latte forgotten and acted as if she didn’t hear him calling her name, although the deep timbre of his voice cut through the others. Not hesitating for a moment, she hurried down the wooden walking path to her car.

When she was out of sight, she picked up speed as a second wind took hold. Spurred on by devastating disappointment, she made it back to her car in no time, mortified that she’d so shamelessly crushed on a man who had only platonic feelings for her because he was into someone else. What an idiot she was.

In her car, while she pulled out, she had Siri call Jules.

“Hey, girl! What’s up?”

“I’ll do it.”

There was a heartbeat of silence. “Do what?”

“The mixer at the club next weekend. Sign me up.”

Two pulse beats ticked by this time. “Why the sudden change of heart? You sound funny. Did something happen?”

“Yeah, I finally opened my eyes and realized silly romantic fantasies only come true in the movies and romance novels. It’s time I grew up. No matter how painful being an adult may be.”

The next day was Thursday, the day before her standing bi-weekly lunch with Flynn. She waited until mid-morning to call him when she knew he wouldn’t answer because he was conducting dive training and torturing the current group of SEAL wannabes somewhere off the coast. It was a coward’s way of bowing out, though it worked. As expected, she got his voice mail.

“Hey, Flynn, it’s me, Cassie. Sorry for the late cancellation, but I’ll have to take a rain check on lunch tomorrow. I have a conference call with Gary to go over the program one last time. We want to make sure your class will be good to go on Monday. Talk to you soon.”

She lied.

Everything had been checked, double-checked, then run one more time; the program was perfect. But it was a believable reason to cancel, and an excellent excuse to avoid seeing him alone. From now on, she’d make sure others were around, at least until she got over her feelings for him. And she admitted it was love because why else would it hurt so damn bad? She blamed herself, not him, even though all along she’d tried to deny it. But deep down, she’d hoped for something that wasn’t there, and despite Flynn never having given her any words of encouragement, or hinted by action, she imagined the most precious of all emotions could grow from a seed that didn’t exist.

A watery image of him appeared before her eyes. She’d miss him: her lunch partner, her defender, her first on-base friend, but it was too painful. Maybe between now and seeing him on Monday, she would come up with a plausible reason why she was pulling away, although she doubted it. Never a good liar, as a kid her parents had always known, somehow. She wouldn’t fool Flynn either; the man was perceptive. But how did she continue a friendship, as if nothing had changed, with a man she loved so deeply that her heart was in pieces?