Sweet Little Pains

16

Simon made himself eat the food laid out before him. He could barely taste it. He wasn't even sure what he was eating, to be honest.

He looked down at his wrist for the time and was surprised to see how far along the time was. It had already struck eight.

Frowning, he turned to glance behind him. Hailey had practically moved in with her fiancé, and Alex had already notified him a few days ago that he wouldn't be in for at least a week – he was staying at a friend's. Knowing this, he was not surprised at the absence of his children at the table.

He was, however, surprised at her absence. Clare was an early riser. She should have been up and doing by now, probably preparing to head over to the café to her job.

He had been hoping to catch her at breakfast to let her know he didn't think she should be at work. How easy, he thought with a mental wince, that conversation was going to go, he didn't know.

But now she hadn't shown up for breakfast.

As his housekeeper went around the kitchen, taking care of little chores that she had to do, he called her attention to him and she ambled over to the counter.

"Have you seen my guest since this morning?'

She shook her head, her tightly packed bun not moving in the slightest at the motion. "No, sir."

"Her bedroom?"

"No, sir. It was vacant when I came to wake her this morning. She had already left. I'd assumed you knew."

"I didn't." Simon muttered. He was unable to stifle the twinge of worry in his chest. Where was she? At the café? Why had she just left without a word?

"All her things were still where she placed them for the night, and the bed was made."

"It was." He murmured almost vacantly. "What time was it when you went to her bedroom?"

"A little after seven, sir."

"Lovely." He muttered, thinking that the situation was anything but. Looking up at the expectant, curious face of his middle-aged housekeeper, he nodded. "Thank you. You can get back to your duties now."

A flicker of disappointment chased through the woman's expression, but she dutifully went back to work.

Simon picked his phone from where it sat before him on the counter top, dialing her number and raising the phone to his ears. It rang and rang, and she didn't pick up. He tried again and met with the same results.

Damn it, he thought, standing to his feet and snatching the suit jacket he had draped over one of the high barstools. Damn it. Would it kill her to pick up the phone?

Knowing Clare, probably.

He abandoned the rest of his breakfast – whatever it was – shrugging on the jacket and departing the kitchen, his phone in hand.

He tried her number once more when he got into his car, tried it again when he was halfway the distance to the café. She didn't answer either time.

Grinding his teeth to nubs, he pulled over his car to the curb, got out of it and crossed the street and taking a moment to pause and control his growing annoyance, pushed open the door of the café.

The eyes of the few patrons who were in their chairs swung to him, along with every employee of the Icing on The Top. They watched in amazement as he closed the distance between the door and the counter, stopping at the pastries side to see the redheaded girl – Suzie – who watched him with eyes as blue as fresh periwinkles and as wide as dinner plates.