Page 16 of Holiday Loss

Chapter

Eleven

December 16th

7:13 A.M.

“Mom, I can't find the Lego that Donovan gave me,” Freddie complained as he strolled into the kitchen.

“What?” Jessica asked, distracted. The high she’d been riding Saturday afternoon when she kissed Donovan goodbye and went to pick up her son had slowly faded until she was sitting right in the middle of the pit of anxiety she had been so worried about when he brought her home from their date.

Something was wrong.

Something had changed.

There was a distance between them that hadn't been there before, and she couldn’t stop analyzing what she’d done to cause it.

It all started when she texted him around dinner time on Saturday. He’d replied, but there had been a delay. Not that she expected him to be sitting around just waiting to hear from her, but she usually got a reply text within ten or fifteen minutes, this time it took almost three hours.

Maybe he’d been busy with work.

Maybe he’d been out with his family.

Both logical answers.

Yet the one that stuck in her mind and refused to budge was the maybe he’d only been interested in sex and the good guy act was just a way to lull her into a false sense of security so she would give it up. Now that she had, there was no need for him to hang around.

That didn't feel right, but she had to remind herself it was only just over two weeks since she’d met the man. How could she really know him well enough to judge?

One delayed response wouldn't have her this worked up, but all day yesterday, when Donovan did answer texts, they were always short and abrupt. She could feel him distancing himself and it hurt and made her angry.

At him.

At herself.

At life in general.

“Mom,” Freddie whined. “I said my Lego are missing. The new ones. They’re gone.”

“They can't be gone,” she told him, setting a plate of toast on the table and indicating he should sit and eat so they weren't late to school and work.

“They are,” he insisted.

“They probably just got mixed up with all your others. You have like four boxes full of the stuff.”

“No, they can't have. They were still in their boxes. I hadn't built them yet.”

“I'm sure they’re around here somewhere.”

Before Freddie could argue the point, the doorbell rang, and she hurried to open it. When she did she saw the last person she expected standing there.

“Donovan,” she greeted him, resisting the urge to throw herself into his arms. Just because he was there now didn't eliminate the feeling that he was backing away. There was no bouquet in his hands, and his expression was troubled.

Something was definitely up, and she could guess whatit was.

“Can I come in? We need to talk.”

“No.” Instinctively, she moved to block him, pulling the door mostly closed behind her as she stepped onto the porch. Her son was in there and if Donovan was breaking up with her she didn't want him to hear it. So far, Freddie wasn't invested in this relationship, so he wasn't going to get hurt. On the other hand, she was and would.

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