She pulled a file from the briefcase slung over her shoulder.
“Thanks.” He took it from her. “I would have had a courier pick them up.”
She shrugged, her glance swinging to Nick, then back. “I wanted to stop by. No one’s seen much of you lately. You burrow into your office at work, then you hole up here the rest of the time. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Irritation grated through Dylan. “I’m fine. You needn’t have troubled yourself.”
“Well…” She shifted and tried an uneasy smile. “We won’t keep you. We have to run anyway. We’re meeting Nick’s parents for dinner.”
She twisted a large diamond on her ring finger. Inexplicably the knot in Dylan’s stomach tightened at the sight of the ring. Evelyn laughed a nervous little laugh, holding up her hand. “Isn’t it beautiful? Nick surprised me with it last week.”
Dylan nodded, unable to utter anything intelligible. He should wish them well, but the words stuck in his throat. He’d never cared for Evelyn in that way, so why was her good fortune so hard to swallow?
Beaming, Nick pulled her to his side. “I’m pushing for a September wedding.”
Pink tinged Evelyn’s cheeks. “He’s so impatient, but we’re going to try.”
“Ah, well…” Dylan let the words trail off. What was he supposed to say— That he wished them all the happiness he’d lost the night Kathy had slammed her car into that power pole?
Nick released his fiancée. “We’re going to be late. It was nice meeting you, Dylan.”
“Good luck,” was the best Dylan could offer as he again shook the man’s hand.
“Take care of yourself. I worry about you.” Rising on her tiptoes, Evelyn placed a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t be such a stranger, okay. You’ll come to the wedding?”
He shrugged. “I’m not much for ceremonies.”
Disappointment flickered in her blue eyes. “Well…let me know if you need anything else.”
He nodded, then shut the door firmly behind them. What he needed was peace and quiet. What he needed was not to be reminded of all the happiness he had no hope of ever retrieving.
“SO, EVELYN HAS HOOKED HERSELF a husband.” Steven Benson’s green eyes glowed in the dim light of Dylan’s study late that Saturday evening. “That throws a monkey wrench in your parents’ plan. I’m surprised your mother hasn’t called to agonize over it.”
Dylan grimaced. His mother never missed a chance to play the drama queen. He lifted a bottle and two glasses from a nearby shelf. He wasn’t a regular drinker, but tonight seemed to call for it.
He handed Steven one of the filled glasses. “She’s storing it up, waiting for the perfect opportunity to let loose. The more people to witness how I’ve failed her and take pity on her, the better.”
“What made them think you’d ever go for Evelyn?” Steven shrugged. “She’s all right, just not right for you. She’s more like them. Surface.”
Surface. The word described Dylan’s parents to a T. Appearances were all they cared about. Image was everything. With her highbrow bloodline and Ivy League education, Evelyn would indeed add luster to the family reputation. Unlike Kathy, who’d made it to Harvard not through her family connections or bank balance but on the full scholarship she’d worked so hard to earn.
He gripped his glass, stilling the urge to slam it into the wall. His parents had never accepted her. They’d upset her, driven her away that night.
“You look like you’re ready to break something. Don’t tell me you’re unhappy about Evelyn.”
“It’s not Evelyn. I don’t know. Seeing the two of them mooning at each other…”
Steven’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah. Sometimes it’s tough to take.”
The fax machine in the corner rang, then kicked on. Dylan sat brooding while several pages printed. He pushed his chair back, then reached for what appeared to be a contract. Gritting his teeth, he scanned the pages.
“She’s met my asking price.” He glared at the contract and took a long swallow of Scotch whiskey, welcoming the numbness the liquor instilled.
Steven refilled his own glass. “You’ve got an offer?”
Dylan nodded. “This woman came by the other day. Said she was ready to make an offer. When I didn’t hear back, I thought she’d changed her mind.”
“Even at your asking price, she’s still getting a deal. It’s worth every penny.” He leaned forward, his cropped red hair spiking upward, his gaze intent on Dylan. “It’s not too late. You can back out of this. I know I’ve been pushing for you to get back into the swing of things, but I wasn’t suggesting such a drastic change.”
Dylan hesitated for a moment. Was he making a mistake? Why was it so hard to let go? His gaze scanned the paneled walls. “No, there’s no going back. This is the only room I spend any time in.”
“But, Dylan, this house…it means so much to you. I know that better than anyone. Imagine what you could do if you dedicated yourself. You’re a natural. It’s a masterpiece, a sign of real creative genius. To just let it go…”
Dylan waved his hand in dismissal. “I’m an attorney, haven’t you heard? We don’t create. We tear things down, argument by argument. Besides, I’ve finally earned the old man’s grudging respect.”
A scowl marred Steven’s otherwise pleasant features. “It would do the old bastard good to have his plans go awry.”
“He’s my father. I’m the only one who can call him a bastard.”
“Ha! They were calling him that way before you were born.”
“Either way.” Dylan gestured at the room. “This house was a phase. I only managed it with your help. You’re the real architect. Besides, I’m good at what I do now.”
“But are you happy?”
“I buried all my happiness two years ago.”
Steven smacked his glass down on the desk. “Yes, it’s been two years. When are you going to snap out of it?”
Dylan narrowed his eyes on his friend. He picked up the contract. With a furious scrawl he signed his name across the bottom. “There. I’ve sold the damn house. How’s that for snapping out of it?”
Silence hung over the room.
Steven slumped back in his chair. “I do want to see you moving on. I just hate to see you sell this place.”
“It’s done. She wants to set the closing in a month’s time. So be it.”
“Not even a counteroffer? You should have asked for more.”
He shrugged. “I’ll pay closing. Let the witch have the
