Page 105 of Modern Romance January 2025 1-4

She firmed her lips and carried the steaming mug across to a comfortable sofa.

Life isn’t a fairytale. Better to have the man you love, his thoughtfulness, generosity and passion, than not have him at all.

Yet despite the glow of pregnancy and Lex’s passionate lovemaking, she felt restless. As if the walls were closing in around her.

Instinct warned her not to go ahead with the wedding. Didn’t she want more for herself? Didn’t she want love?

Annoyed at the direction of her thoughts, Portia sipped her tea, only to spill it at the sound of the doorbell.

Lex! Had he returned early from America? She was on her feet, pulse quickening, when she realised her mistake. He wouldn’t use the bell because he had a key. Besides, he wasn’t due back for two days.

She opened the door to find their neighbour on the doorstep.

‘Mrs Buscot!’ One look told Portia something was wrong. The elderly lady was trembling and pale, one hand at her throat in a gesture of anxiety. ‘Please, won’t you come in?’

‘Thank heaven you’re here. I need your help.’

Lex told himself Portia had probably gone to bed early, yet he couldn’t stifle disappointment that the house was dark. He’d tried phoning and texting to tell her of his changed travel plans but couldn’t raise her.

That had sent unease shooting along his spine. Had something happened to her? To the baby?

He turned on the light and strode through the house, finding only empty rooms.

Maybe she’d gone out for the evening. But he didn’t believe it. He hadn’t missed her tiredness and knew it was only partly due to their lovemaking. Something had interfered with her sleep and lately she preferred to stay home at night.

Just when he thought she’d begun to believe everything would be okay with the baby.

Something was worrying her but she hadn’t confided in him. He tried not to let that bother him, telling himself to be patient, that she’d share with him eventually just as she’d done about the miscarriage.

He took the stairs two at a time, driven by the need to see her, hold her. The whole time he’d been in the States he hadn’t been able to settle—a first when it came to business. The hotel bed had been too empty. He’d missed Portia in his arms, missed talking with her over breakfast, relaxing with her in the evening, and in meetings his attention kept wandering.

He found the bedroom deserted, the bed neatly made.

Lex glanced at his watch, his nape prickling.

She wasn’t expecting you. Maybe she went out to see a late film.

But he didn’t believe it.

The bathroom was empty too, except a door in the vanity unit was open. Lex stared, trying to remember what had stood on the now empty shelf.

Portia’s toiletries bag.

Swiftly he opened every drawer and door. It wasn’t there.

He crossed the bedroom, flicking on the light switch as he entered the dressing room.

A set of Portia’s work clothes lay discarded on the velvet couch. A couple of other garments spilled across them as if hastily dropped. That was unlike Portia. He strode to the vast cupboard that held their luggage. The new pieces he’d bought her were all there but there was a gap beside them where her small case had stood.

Something sliced through his abdomen like a butcher’s knife carving meat. He rocked back on his heels and would have stumbled but for his grab at the door.

There’s a sensible explanation. Portia wouldn’t just walk out on you. She’s not that sort of woman.

Yet panic bubbled inside him.

A nasty little voice in his head reminded him that he’d once walked out on her. Valiantly he tried to ignore it and not jump to conclusions.

He’d known something wasn’t right. Despite Portia’s smiles, the phenomenal sex they shared and her changed attitude to Greece and marriage, lately there’d been an undercurrent of... Something he couldn’t put a name to. He couldn’t shake the idea that something was missing between them.

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