Free Love Locked by Tess Highcroft Page A

violent, or upsetting — sure there’s the occasional heartstring–pulling moment, but it’s guaranteed to end happily–ever–after. Awesome.
    I wonder what Lucas is doing right now … You might not want to know …
    Jocelyn’s read that popcorn is a choking hazard for little kids, so she dishes ice cream up for them instead. Fine with her. Butterscotch ripple with butterscotch sauce. Heaven.
    The kids are already in bed — Byron snoring, Lainey’s hair spread across her pillow — when Beth and Jed come through the door, laughing; Beth’s cheeks flushed watermelon pink. On impulse, Jocelyn says, “Next week I’ll have the kids up at my place and they can sleep over.”
    “Really?” The pink on Beth’s cheeks goes to fuchsia.
    “Absolutely.”
    Sunday, Jocelyn takes every excuse to be out, walking in the neighbourhood, where she might run into Lucas. Or even Charlotte. She craves contact with his life. Yes, their last encounter was good, but there’s that niggling worry in the back of her head. Jed said he thought she was away for the weekend. Why did he even mention it? Does it mean something? She wants to tell him she wasn’t. Just like he doubled back on his bike to tell her the party was for his mom, she wants to clarify, ‘I didn’t go to see Sam; I’m not out of town.’ But how? She should have been clearer back on the bike path. Now it would just seem like a weird thing to randomly text him.
    But if she just happened to see him … on the bike path? Nope. Walking past the pub for the first time in ages, just in case? Nuh–uh. Skirting through the park; walking close to a group of people playing ultimate? No Lucas.
    So, she spends Sunday at home, with her phone turned off, re–watching one of the movies she watched a couple of weeks ago with Lainey and Byron, and it’s only Monday morning, when she goes to get her bike out of the shed to ride it to work, that she finds the note Lucas had attached to it.
    Jocelyn,
    I cannot thank you enough. You saved my butt. My dad would have killed me.
    I’m at a conference out of town for the next week, but maybe we can meet up when I get back?
    Now I owe you some food and a beer (or a pitcher) (or two).
    Lucas
    Oh, wow. She wishes she’d found the note earlier. But, then her Monday morning wouldn’t have had such a lift. And a lift on Monday is always good. So, Jocelyn cycles off to work with a smile on her face and possible quick, funny, text replies running through her head.
    She waits until Wednesday, then keeps it short and simple. Got your note. Glad you made it on time. Text me when you get back re: meeting up. Hope you’re having fun!
    He replies quickly. Will do. Busy here. Talk soon.
    OK, so it’s not gushy. It’s not even sweet. But it says they’ll talk soon. That’s good. She holds that in her brain and maybe feels a little less walking–on–airish than at the beginning of the week, but still hopeful.
    By Friday, Jocelyn’s stomach’s in knots. Don’t most conferences end before the weekend? Shouldn’t he text her today if they’re going to meet up this weekend?
    She goes to a pub near her work to celebrate a co–worker’s upcoming wedding and wishes she was at a different pub, in different company. Which isn’t fair, because she’s really very happy for her co–worker, who waited three–and–a–half years for her fiancé to propose. She goes home early, tumbles into bed at 11:11 by her bedside clock.
    By Saturday morning, she’s considering googling conferences in Lucas's area of specialty to see when the one he’s at might be over. The problem is, beyond “working in an office,” she doesn’t know exactly what he does. Interviewing fail, Jocelyn .
    She runs, and cycles, and goes grocery shopping for fun things to feed Byron and Lainey at tonight’s sleepover.
    Sunday morning, Jocelyn marches the two pancake–and–bacon–fed kids down the stairs to their main–floor apartment, to find Beth and Jed sitting at the