style="font-size:15px;"> “Yes, I firmly believe it’s the same hottie who kissed you and the two of you are going to live happily ever after.
“No. I’m not just saying that to make you feel better.
“Ian,” she warned.
“You’re not needy. Okay, you’re needy. Good night, Ian.”
With a click she hung up, and they were back to being alone. Beckett held the DVD to his chest like a shield. “I have to go. Can I borrow this?”
“Do you want to find out about Ian, about his date, about how excited he is?” She sounded ticked; he knew she’d be ticked, and it was better this way. Safer. No complications. No emotions. If only she’d get…dressed. Until then, he was screwed. Metaphorically, not literally. If he meant literally, he wouldn’t be having this stupid conversation with his brain.
Manning up, he met Phoebe’s eyes squarely, prepared to set things straight between them. “He’s screwed. It won’t be the same chick, or if it is, he’ll get punked on some reality prank show. Life doesn’t work out that good. Nothing works out the way you want it to.” He held up the DVD. “Mind if I borrow this?”
Okay, he’d settled nothing, but she wasn’t looking at him all soft and confused anymore. Now she looked pissed. “Just go, Beckett.”
She was proving his point. Beckett ran for the door, clutching the DVD, her parrot’s crazed cackle echoing behind him.
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