gripped the steering wheel, gave the car a little gas and zipped by the house. One last glance at the husband, hands fisted at his sides, brought it all back. Jasper’s anger, Jasper’s misery. Living like a second-class citizen in her own home.
She would never trust a man, she vowed as she nosed the car down the street. Not ever again.
* * *
He couldn’t get Mariah out of his head. He hated that he’d upset her. She’d tried to hide it, but couldn’t, not from him. Wyatt stared out the condominium’s windows at the city lights sparkling in the dark.
“What do you think of the property?” The Realtor’s high heels tapped on the marble as she sashayed into view. “It’s a quality building in a good location. The bank is willing to negotiate. High-end real estate like this is hard for them to unload.”
“It’s a good deal.” He took another look around the cavernous, high-ceilinged living room. It was just what he’d been looking for…but it wasn’t what he wanted.
“We can write up an offer and see if we can nudge the asking price.” Lauren, the Realtor, tapped closer. “We won’t know until we try. Should I get my paperwork?”
“No. This isn’t the right place for me.”
“Then I have three more properties to show you tonight. Maybe one of them will be just perfect.”
“Hmm.” Noncommittal, he ambled across the room, his steps echoing. He’d been putting off buying a place to live for years, ever since Delanie had asked him to move out of their Manhattan home. It had been hotel living since then. “I’d like to look at some houses.”
“But you were quite clear—“
“I know, I was, and you’ve selected some fine properties to show me, but I’ve changed my mind.” Maybe seeing Mariah today was what had done it, along with her son and his talk of basketball. Wyatt had been wanting to join a league. Maybe it would be nice to have his own court and shoot hoops in his backyard. A little grass, a few trees, something that could be a real home.
If he could ever find that again, that is.
Mariah. There he went, thinking of her once more. It looked as if she had a good life. A great kid, an impressive job and a dedication to the shelter he found most admirable. Seeing her today—
“Mr. Royce?” Lauren’s voice sharpened, finally snaring his attention.
“Sorry.” He shook his head, scattering his thoughts, but those of Mariah didn’t budge.
“Give me a minute with my laptop and I’ll find you a few houses to see.” Intent on her work, the Realtor pulled a small computer from her bag and set it on the marble counter of the kitchen island.
Was he really ready to look at houses? What would he do, rattling around in one all by himself? It wasn’t as if his son could visit him.
Mariah’s son was sure a great kid. Wyatt couldn’t help admiring her life. Chances were she’d be sitting in a gym somewhere right now, watching her son play. The dribble of balls on the court, the squeak of shoes on the floor, the shouts of the kids as they barked instructions, set up an offensive, pressed in to score… Pain crimped his chest as he remembered those days.
Those lost, golden days.
“How about something like this?” Lauren nudged her laptop screen in his direction.
He glanced at the brick accents, portico, private gated entrance, and nodded. He had to start someplace. He had promises to keep, ones that weren’t easy.
But the best things in life never were.
* * *
“All right, lights out.” Mariah poked her head into Jake’s room. “It’s past your bedtime.”
“Just one more page,” he argued, head bent over his paperback, his dark hair tumbling across his forehead. Their aging dog, Hobart, snored lightly at the foot of the bed as the teenager kept reading, absorbed in his story.
Just yesterday he’d been was a little guy flipping through picture books and, yes, wanting to read just one more page. How did time pass so quickly?
“It’s thirty minutes after your bedtime, kiddo.” She padded across the carpet. “There will be time tomorrow to read.”
“The game was pretty good tonight, right?” His attention remained fixed on the book.
“Right. Your team did great. The captain, not so much.”
“Hey, I wasn’t that bad.” Jake laughed absently, reading away. “Tomorrow’s not a school day.”
“No, but rules are rules. Give it up.” She held out her hand and the closed book landed there, accompanied by a sigh. “Get some sleep, kid.”
She set the paperback on the nightstand next to a familiar looking volume. Her high school yearbook. That was curious. “Were you going through this again?”
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