For the first time since the charges had been dropped.
The cab ride from the airport had been surreal, strange.
He had expected to feel homesick, to feel pain, to have memories of Jessica bombard him. Instead, he had felt strangely detached. And the feeling wasn’t going away.
“No shit? You on business? How long you here for? My mom didn’t say anything about you coming to town.”
“I haven’t told anyone yet.” It had been an impulse. He had walked out of that hospital after Mandy’s ultrasound appointment, come home and stalked around his apartment for an hour, then had called and booked a flight. It was eight P.M. central time the same day, and he was in Chicago.
That hadn’t been in his plans when he’d woken up that morning. But seeing Mandy’s baby, it had brought everything up inside of him. It had made himwant.
It was everything he couldn’t have, but something told him it was time to deal with a few issues from his past.
So here he was. “I want to sell my house, George. Can you list it?”
George was a realtor, five years Damien’s senior. He had a thriving customer base and was the smooth talker Damien had never been.
“What house?”
The elevator finally opened, and Damien entered. He pushed the tenth-floor button. “The house in Wheaton.”
“You still own that?” George sounded amazed.
Oh, yeah, he still owned it. That house had been his gift to Jess, a wedding present. He hadn’t been able to afford it at the time, but they had scraped the money together when Jessica had gotten her first post-law school job. He had thought the house was great, a two-story colonial with black shutters and a bunch of flower beds. Jessica had loved the house at first, too, until she realized how much upkeep it took.
The flowers he’d loved so much, she had seen as unruly and extra work.
Damien rubbed his eyebrows. “I’ve been renting the house.”
He hadn’t been able to deal with it after Jess had died. He’d asked his father to find a tenant, and he’d gotten the hell out. His in-laws had packed up the furniture and were storing it in their basement.
“How long have you had the house? Do you know what condition it’s in?” George shifted into professional mode.
“I bought it six years ago. I don’t know what condition it’s in, but my dad’s been keeping an eye on things, and the same couple has been living there for three years. No pets, no kids.”
“If it’s in good shape, we should be able to get quite a bit more for it now. It was a young house, if I remember it right.”
“I don’t care what price you get for it as long as I don’t lose money, and as long as I don’t have to deal with it.” That sounded a little more revealing than Damien intended. He quickly added, “So how have you been, George?”
“Hanging in there. Listen, you’ve got to sign the listing agreement, so why don’t you stop out at my house tomorrow, have dinner with us. The wife would love to see you. She always had a crush on you—something about those ugly blue eyes of yours.”
Damien snorted as he stepped off on the tenth floor. “Sure, I can do that, though I highly doubt Melanie ever gave one thought to my eyes. But don’t go blabbing to your mom that I’m here until I’ve had a chance to call my mom. I don’t want her to find out secondhand.”
“Can do. And Damien? It’s good to hear from you.”
And Damien found that he actually felt the same way.
Mandy didn’t know what to think.
Damien had disappeared.
He had walked out of the hospital and hadn’t returned to the office. She had gotten a cryptic email from him asking her to cancel all of his appointments for the remainder of the week, as well as their dinner plans, because he was taking care of some business out of town.
Damien never canceled appointments. And it was only Tuesday. Taking three days off in a row was just unheard of for him.
Mandy was worried sick.
“Are you even listening to me?” Ben asked, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice.
