The Romance Revival(55)

Is that weird? I don’t have a clue. But something about it unsettles me.

A few moments later, the driver opens the door, climbs out, and closes the door so carefully that no sound reaches me only about thirty feet away. He hasn’t noticed me yet, his focus entirely on the far end of the street.

On our house.

I know Emery wouldn’t want me to approach him, but a protective instinct flares anyway. He isn’t acting like he lives here and just stopped for a moment on his way home. He looks like he’s surveilling the area.

With a soft click of my tongue, I get Honey’s attention, and we head down the sidewalk toward the car.

“Hey there,” I call out when I’m about ten feet away.

The man whips around, eyes wide in surprise. He squints at me and then says simply, “Oh. Hi.”

I’m at the passenger side, looking at him over the roof of the car. He’s wearing a baseball cap pulled low, his face in shadow, but I can make out dark hair and a collared shirt under some kind of monogrammed zip-up vest.

“Nice night, isn’t it?” I ask.

He doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Sure is.”

“Were you looking for an address or…?” I trail off, rounding the front of the car and walking a few paces from him.

“Oh, yeah, I, uh…” He swallows, squinting to the side. He’s wiry but has a weak jaw, his chin smoothly transitioning to neck. “I’m looking at buying in the area.”

Strange time to come visit the neighborhood, I think.

“Is that your dog?” he asks, lifting his chin.

I reach down, ruffling the fur behind her ears. “Yeah, this is Honey.”

“Honey,” he repeats, eyes locked on her. “I’m Frank.” He looks up at me expectantly.

Relieved that we don’t know each other, I hold out my hand, “I’m Luca.”

He shakes it, but his spine is rigid, shoulders tense. The intensity of his gaze puts me on edge, the way it moves over my face like he’s cataloging every detail. Honey watches the entire interaction. Her ears are back, and I swear she doesn’t blink.

“You said you’re in the market?” I ask him.

“Yeah, I am.” His eyes slide to Honey and back again. “You live in this neighborhood?”

I nod, lifting my chin up the street. “That way.”

“How long have you lived here? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“A few years now.”

“And you like it?”

“Yeah. It’s quiet. Neighbors watch out for each other.”

“Ahh,” he says in understanding. “A blessing and a curse, that one.”

I laugh. “It can be.”

“And your wife? She likes it, too?”

I pause. I didn’t say anything about being married. I suppose he could have seen the ring on my finger and assumed, but I don’t like it. “It’s great being so close to the beach,” I say vaguely.

“That’s always a plus,” Frank says. “I’ve never been much of a beach guy myself, but I get the appeal.” He points to my leg, the bandages visible at the hem of my shorts, my weight on the cane. “Looks like maybe you wiped out a few too many times.”

“Just an accident at work. Nothing too serious.”

“Huh.”

We both glance up at a car turning at the top of the street, the headlights cutting across us in a slash of bright light. The car slows like the driver is checking for street numbers, but then it turns into my driveway. My heart skips.

It’s a police car. Has something happened to Emery?

I blink back at the sound of Frank tapping his driver’s-side window. “I’d better head home. Nice to meet you, Luca.”

“You, too,” I say distractedly. I should watch which direction Frank goes when he leaves, but my attention is firmly on the two officers that emerge from the car and begin walking toward my front door.





26 EMERY




How’s the patient?” Annie says through the line.

“Miraculous as ever.” Reaching for my laptop, I open the file where I’ve been transcribing my notes. Normally I’d be thrilled to talk about work right now, grateful for the distraction, but all I can think about is Luca being out there alone, just like he was that night. Trying to refocus, I scroll down to my last entry. “Vitals are Olympic athlete–worthy. I’ll draw some blood tonight and run a full panel tomorrow. His memory seems the same, but no weakness in limbs, altered gait, or coordination issues. In fact, we were out all day, and he still felt up to a walk tonight.”

“Ooh, like a date?”

“Not a date but not not a date?” Standing, I walk across the house to look out the front window. No sign of him yet. I turn away and start pacing, willing myself to relax. “I took him to the beach where we had our first date. We talked. Really talked. I can’t remember the last time we did that.”

“I told you this would happen! Oh my God, Em, I’m so happy for you guys.”

“Okay, calm down.” I bite back a smile as I pivot back toward the front of the house. “It’s just a start.”

“But it’s something!”

I’m listening, but my attention has been lured out the window and to the police car pulling into my driveway. My stomach plummets, my palms turning slick. “Oh, shit.”