“I’m off to the football game with Brad and his parents. Are you sure you and Jace don’t want to come?”
My heart squeezed at the invitation and that he’d actually included Jace.
Smiling through the mirror at him, I adjusted my green ribbed T-shirt over my belt. “Not tonight, son. I would rather not drive an hour to the game and back. But I’ll have some leftovers for you.”
Ethan leaned against the doorjamb, his brown eyes soft. “You’ve been really happy since you’ve met Jace, Mom. You really like him?”
I pivoted on my heel and padded over to him. “I do, son. He has qualities I value in a man. He’s a gentleman. He’s kind. Can be cocky, but he makes me feel special.”
Ethan straightened, whisking a hand through his brown hair, glancing down at me. “Did Dad ever make you feel like that?”
I placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “At one time, yes. But I can see you’re worried about me, and you don’t have to be. I have to take a chance on love again, no matter if it works out between Jace and me or not.”
“I’ll always worry about you, Mom. I hate what Dad did to you, and you deserve to find someone who will treat you with love, kindness, and the respect you deserve.”
I leaned away, grinning like a proud mom. “How did you get to be so philosophical about relationships?”
“Sabrina. She’s been my rock.”
“She’s a keeper,” I said, grateful that he had someone to talk to about the divorce and that he was experiencing his first love.
A car horn blew outside.
He kissed me on the cheek. “Got to run. Have a good time. Oh, and remember I’m staying at Brad’s tonight. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. I love you.”
“Right back at you,” I shouted before the front door closed.
I had a few minutes before Jace arrived. So I made quick work of ordering the food and tidying up the kitchen. By the time I was done, it was one minute past six. Jace should be here any minute.
I ran into the living room and flipped the switch on the gas fireplace. The food wouldn’t be here for about forty-five minutes, so Jace and I had plenty of time to have a glass of wine and chat.
I pulled out a bottle of red from the wine fridge, popped the cork to let it breathe, then grabbed glasses from the cabinet.
I busied myself while I waited, but my sanity began to slip more each minute Jace didn’t show. I checked my phone. No messages. The clock on the stove read seven p.m.
I called him. The line went straight to voicemail. After leaving a phone message, I also texted.
Me:I just called but wanted to follow up with a text. Is everything okay?
The doorbell rang.
I rushed to answer and yanked open the door, expecting to see Jace, only to find a delivery driver holding a bag of food. My stomach soured despite the delicious aroma.
The young man in the red polo shirt waited expectantly for his money while I stood there like a zombie, wondering where Jace was.
Trying to calm my nerves, I paid the delivery driver then set the food on the counter in the kitchen.
Where was Jace?
I pressed a hand to my stomach, taking in deep yoga breaths before I poured a glass of wine. Alcohol would temper the nerves.
But one glass of wine turned into two as seven turned into eight.
My mind became a firing range with all kinds of thoughts shooting left and right. Maybe he’d gotten into an accident. Maybe he’d changed his mind about us. Maybe he’d gotten hurt from his centrifuge test.
I paced the kitchen floor, staring at my phone like I could will a text from Jace. He didn’t strike me as irresponsible or forgetful. But my worry began to melt into anger.
This is what you get for opening up to another man in uniform. You swore you wouldn’t do this again.
