Tom wondered, noting the presence of a second car—a shiny red Corvette, no less—in the garage. Two luxury automobiles. A house in the suburbs. Everything but a white picket fence. “What does that tell you?” he asked, watching Suzy emerge from the garage and cut across the front lawn.
Could she move any slower? Tom thought, holding his breath as the front door opened and a man—tall, imposing, wearing a jacket and tie despite the lateness of the hour—appeared in the doorway. What’s this all about? Tom wondered as the man grabbed Suzy’s elbow and ushered her inside, shutting the door after her.
Tom switched off the engine and stepped out of the car. Time for a little reconnoitering, he decided, running on a diagonal across the street toward her house, staying close to the myriad of palm trees lining the way.
Which was when it hit him. A sudden wave of nausea, followed quickly by another, and then another, each one stronger than the one before, each accompanied by sharp, stabbing pains. He grabbed his stomach and doubled over, his body wracked by a succession of violent heaves as he spilled his guts into a clump of flowering bushes. He gasped for breath, his eyes stinging with tears as he tried to straighten up. When was the last time he’d been sick like that? He pushed back the urge to throw up again, his knees wobbling as he sank to the grass, burying his head in his hands. He had to go home. He had to lie down. He had to let Lainey take care of him.
As soon as Tom felt his legs were strong enough to hold him, he returned to his car. “One twenty-one Tallahassee Drive,” he noted as he drove past the neat, tan-colored bungalow with the white slate roof, repeating the address several times out loud in order to ensure he’d remember it.
“You haven’t seen the last of me, Suzy Pomegranate,” he said as he rounded the corner and headed for home.
“ WELL, LOOK AT you,” Suzy said, smiling at the man in the doorway, actually managing to sound pleased to see him, as she fought to steady the erratic beating of her heart. It was never a good idea to show fear. What was Dave doing here? He wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow night. “I wasn’t expecting you back until—”
“Get inside.” He grabbed her elbow, pushed her inside the front foyer, slammed the door shut after them.
“Did something happen? Is everything all right? Your mother . . . ?” Had the nursing home called to inform him she’d finally succumbed to the cancer that had been ravaging her insides for the better part of two years?
“Where the hell have you been?” Long, angry fingers dug into her flesh. The same spot Will had touched so tenderly not more than thirty minutes before.
“I went to the movies.”
“What theater is open at this hour?”
“The Rialto, over in South Beach.”
“You expect me to believe you went all the way over to South Beach to go to a movie?”
“It’s the truth.”
“What movie?”
“That new one with Angelina Jolie, the one you didn’t want to see.”
“Who’d you go with?”
“A girlfriend.”
“What girlfriend?”
“Kristin,” Suzy said, the first name that sprang to mind.
“Kristin,” he repeated, shaking his head as if trying to dislodge the unfamiliar name and rubbing the five o’clock shadow along his chin with the fingers of his right hand. “Who the hell is Kristin?”
“She’s just this girl I met.”
“When?”
“A few days ago.”
“Where’d you meet her?”
“What difference does it make?”
Her answer was the back of his hand as it came crashing against the side of her cheek. Suzy fell back against the cream-colored wall, then tumbled to her knees.
“Get up,” Dave directed, looming above her. At almost six feet tall and a hundred and eighty pounds, he had five inches and nearly seventy pounds on her. A man of substance, she’d thought when they were first introduced five years earlier. The handsome prince, come to rescue her. A
Could she move any slower? Tom thought, holding his breath as the front door opened and a man—tall, imposing, wearing a jacket and tie despite the lateness of the hour—appeared in the doorway. What’s this all about? Tom wondered as the man grabbed Suzy’s elbow and ushered her inside, shutting the door after her.
Tom switched off the engine and stepped out of the car. Time for a little reconnoitering, he decided, running on a diagonal across the street toward her house, staying close to the myriad of palm trees lining the way.
Which was when it hit him. A sudden wave of nausea, followed quickly by another, and then another, each one stronger than the one before, each accompanied by sharp, stabbing pains. He grabbed his stomach and doubled over, his body wracked by a succession of violent heaves as he spilled his guts into a clump of flowering bushes. He gasped for breath, his eyes stinging with tears as he tried to straighten up. When was the last time he’d been sick like that? He pushed back the urge to throw up again, his knees wobbling as he sank to the grass, burying his head in his hands. He had to go home. He had to lie down. He had to let Lainey take care of him.
As soon as Tom felt his legs were strong enough to hold him, he returned to his car. “One twenty-one Tallahassee Drive,” he noted as he drove past the neat, tan-colored bungalow with the white slate roof, repeating the address several times out loud in order to ensure he’d remember it.
“You haven’t seen the last of me, Suzy Pomegranate,” he said as he rounded the corner and headed for home.
“ WELL, LOOK AT you,” Suzy said, smiling at the man in the doorway, actually managing to sound pleased to see him, as she fought to steady the erratic beating of her heart. It was never a good idea to show fear. What was Dave doing here? He wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow night. “I wasn’t expecting you back until—”
“Get inside.” He grabbed her elbow, pushed her inside the front foyer, slammed the door shut after them.
“Did something happen? Is everything all right? Your mother . . . ?” Had the nursing home called to inform him she’d finally succumbed to the cancer that had been ravaging her insides for the better part of two years?
“Where the hell have you been?” Long, angry fingers dug into her flesh. The same spot Will had touched so tenderly not more than thirty minutes before.
“I went to the movies.”
“What theater is open at this hour?”
“The Rialto, over in South Beach.”
“You expect me to believe you went all the way over to South Beach to go to a movie?”
“It’s the truth.”
“What movie?”
“That new one with Angelina Jolie, the one you didn’t want to see.”
“Who’d you go with?”
“A girlfriend.”
“What girlfriend?”
“Kristin,” Suzy said, the first name that sprang to mind.
“Kristin,” he repeated, shaking his head as if trying to dislodge the unfamiliar name and rubbing the five o’clock shadow along his chin with the fingers of his right hand. “Who the hell is Kristin?”
“She’s just this girl I met.”
“When?”
“A few days ago.”
“Where’d you meet her?”
“What difference does it make?”
Her answer was the back of his hand as it came crashing against the side of her cheek. Suzy fell back against the cream-colored wall, then tumbled to her knees.
“Get up,” Dave directed, looming above her. At almost six feet tall and a hundred and eighty pounds, he had five inches and nearly seventy pounds on her. A man of substance, she’d thought when they were first introduced five years earlier. The handsome prince, come to rescue her. A
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