Page 50 of Sleigh Bells and Snowstorms
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s not a problem. Hurry up, kiddo. We need to get going.”
I glanced at the time. They weren’t in danger of being late. Then I realized why she was in such a rush. She was hopingto see the cute single dad at drop-off. Maybe even spend a few minutes alone with him before the other parents arrived.
“Are you done?” I asked Annabel, and she nodded. “Go get your shoes and coat. It’s time to go.”
Nina glanced at me with a smile. I winked at her. I had her back.
“Oh, before I forget, the apartment needs to be cleaned and turned over,” she said. “Mystery man had to leave. I can help when I get home.”
It felt like I’d just been punched in the stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and it took me a second to get a word out.
“He left?”
“Yeah, there’s a message from his assistant. Something came up, and he had to check out.”
I poured a cup of coffee so I had an excuse to turn away from her. She didn’t know about the time I’d spent with Jensen. For all she knew, I’d hardly spoken to him since I’d refused his dinner invitation. And I wasn’t ready to tell her what had actually been going on. My feelings were a mess.
Not even a mess—it was like an emotion bomb had gone off.
“I’ll take care of it,” I said. “I think I should also stop by the picket line at the hospital for a while. Do my part.”
“The weather is supposed to suck today. More snow.”
“I’ll bundle up.”
“Sorry, I don’t need to tell you to wear a coat. I’m just used to my little penguin child.” She raised her voice. “Annabel? Are you ready to go?”
“Yes, Mommy!”
“Okay, I’m off. I have clients until four, so are you good to pick her up?”
“Yep, not a problem.”
“Thanks. Stay warm out there.”
“I will. Drive careful.”
Annabel shouted goodbye before she and her mom left. I stayed in the kitchen for a long moment, frozen by the shock of Jensen’s abrupt departure.
I should have known better. Of course he left. He was never going to stay.
But he hadn’t even said goodbye.
Groaning in frustration at myself, I put my coffee down and went to grab my boots out of the closet. He’d gone in the middle of the night—or early in the morning—so he’d obviously been in a hurry. What did I expect? A romantic goodbye on the front step while delicate flakes of snow drifted around us?
This was real life. It had felt like a fantasy for a minute, but it was never meant to last.
I went out into the falling snow and trudged across to the apartment. Inside, it was almost pristine—the rumpled bed and used towels the only signs anyone had been there.
That and the hint of his scent left behind in the air. Knowing I shouldn’t, I picked up one of the pillows and inhaled. Groaning, I tossed it back on the bed. Why did he have to smell so good?
Although I was trying to convince myself that I wasn’t upset, being in the apartment—especially with it so empty—was not putting me in a good mood. There was still cleaning to be done to get it ready for the next guest, but I’d come back and do it later.
On my way out, I glanced into the kitchen. Something was on the counter. I was going to leave it—it was probably nothing—but a spark of curiosity flared to life.
It was a folded piece of paper with my name on the outside.
