Page 47 of A Gingerbread Romance

And Jonathan had never mentioned anything about his own personal involvement with Greta. Why would he? So Berg probably wouldn’t know they were dating.

He kept his head down, idling in the car a good distance from the house where he’d gone completely unnoticed amid the other cars and the shady, snow-covered trees.

Berg and Greta stood there talking for a few moments, and then Greta held the door for Berg, and he went inside. She shut the door behind them.

Jonathan’s gaze dropped to his lap. His breathing came in short. His stomach felt sick, and he swallowed.

It was like a flashback to that horrible day when he’d found Carla in Don’s arms.

He shook off the thought, nauseated, and forced a deep breath.

Because no, it was truly nothing like what he’d walked in on then, but the feeling, while only a sliver of what he’d experienced then, was far too similar. He pushed his hands to the back of his neck, trying to keep his cool, but he felt his temperature begin to rise.

He turned off the car’s heater and pressed the button to open his window, sucking in the cold air.

Of course, Berg would be after her. He owned a big house on the edge of town, where he lived like a king, alone, apparently. He’d probably continue to stop over at Greta’s, even after Jonathan went back to Baltimore, too, and then Jonathan’s greatest fears would be realized. He’d lose Greta to someone who lived close-by and was able to give her all the attention she deserved.

Jonathan squeezed his eyes shut and fought with the ugly voices inside of him. No. He was turning this into something it was not.

Berg was simply delivering a gift basket to a client. Jonathan gave gifts to his clients like that every time a sale or a purchase went through. It was merely for the purpose of congratulating them, and it was standard business practice. He’d be sending one to Brett and Elaine next week.

And that’s allthiswas. He straightened himself in the driver’s seat. What was wrong with him?

Greta wasn’t interested in Berg.

He opened his eyes again, and his gaze shot back to her front door, which was still shut, its pine wreath hanging silently on this windless winter’s day, which felt nothing like Christmas anymore.

Should he wait until Berg came back out, then go and knock on her door?

Wait out here; spy on her? See how long the man stayed? It was beneath him, and he knew it.

He swallowed again. They were probably just friends. But if she were becoming friends with Berg now, what would happen when Jonathan was away? This was how he and Greta had become close, by becoming friends first.

And was Jonathan ever going to stop reacting like this because of what he’d been through with Carla? Had he really thought he could bring all this baggage to the relationship with Greta and imagined that things could still work out?

He shook his head, which had started to pound. Because no, he’d been lying to himself, if that’s what he’d believed. He was a mess.

He had to get out now—while he still could. Get out before his heart became completely entangled.

More importantly, he had to get out for her sake, because she’d be much better off without him.

He checked his mirrors, pulled the car from the curb, and sped away.

* * *

She’d lefttwo voicemails and three text messages hours ago. Several hours apart, in fact. Jonathan had returned none of them.

Where was he? Were thingsthisbad? Had she damaged what they had so badly that he wouldn’t even speak to her today—on Christmas Day?

Greta sunk into the sofa and curled her feet up under her legs, pulling the blanket back over herself, watching but not listening asIt’s a Wonderful Lifeplayed on her television screen.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she wiped them away, swallowing. This movie made her cry every year. That’s all this was. She would not cry over Jonathan. She would not. She’d sent him away last night, and for good reason, and he probably just needed some space.

But he'd call, eventually. Her accusations on Christmas Eve weren’t such a big deal, were they?

More than likely, he was spending time with his family again today, and he was too busy with everyone to be concerned over their fight last night.

Another wave of sadness swept over her. His family had been so warm and welcoming. She’d had such a wonderful time with them. Would she lose them, too, and so soon? She’d just started getting used to the idea that she’d have all these wonderful people around to spend time with.

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