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I sneak out of the bedroom. Before I leave the room, I look over at her once again. The urge to slide back into bed and do all the unholy things we did last night is all too tempting. But sex can’t do all the talking for me. Sex can’t tell her what I need to say. Sex would only delay the inevitable conversation that needs to happen if I want any future with her.
She has to know I want more than sex.
I walk into the kitchen to see my phone right where I left it. The device continues to charge on the island. To let Mia keep sleeping, I silence my phone.
After that, I gather eggs and bacon and manage to find some pancake mix. I’ve just gotten out a pan and placed it on the stove when I hear a vibrating noise.
I look over my now-glowing phone.
Who could be calling me on a Sunday?
I grab my cell to look at the collar ID.
Jonathan?
Of all the calls I could’ve received, why is he calling? Is something wrong? Did something happen? Or did he just now listen to my voicemail? Jeez, if that’s it, looks like I’ll have to get my story straight sooner than I thought.
Grabbing my phone, I walk out the front door so Mia can’t hear. After about the third ring, and I shut the door behind me and accept the call.
“He lives,” I joke.
I hear a chuckle on the other end. “Hey, man. How are you doing?”
“Good. Just got up, actually.”
“Really? What time is it there?”
“Almost eight.”
“That’s right. I keep forgetting there’s a time change on my end.”
Whatever he’s calling about, I don’t think it’s just to chitchat. “To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”
“Well…” He laughs awkwardly. “A couple of things. I got your voicemail, and I’m all ears.”
“I don’t really want to talk about this over the phone.” Something doesn’t feel right about not telling him to his face.
“Totally get it. We can talk when Kiera and I get back.”
“Oh yeah, what time is your flight then?”
“Actually, we’ve just landed at Love Field.”
I freeze. What does he mean he just landed at Love Field? Please tell me that’s an expression for sex on the beach or something. “Don’t tell me you cut your vacation short because of my voicemail.”
“It wasn’t just that. It’s Kiera. She isn’t doing well.”
“Kiera?” In the background, I can hear someone vomiting.
“Oh, god, I feel like shit.” I hear an exhausted feminine voice in the background.
“You’re doing a great job, babe. Just close the paper bag and keep breathing,” I hear Jonathan comforts her.
“When did she get sick? What happened?”
“Kiera seems to have caught a bug a few days ago and has been vomiting off and on ever since.”
“Shit, that’s sounds horrible. Anything I can do to help?”