“Of course.”
Twenty minutes later, we pulled up outside a small brick house in a quiet neighborhood.
Karen unbuckled her seat belt but didn’t open the door.
“Thank you.”
“For the ride?”
“For not trying to fix me.”
“I wouldn’t know how.”
“That’s why.”
She reached for the door.
Then stopped.
“Alex.”
“Yeah?”
She leaned over.
My pulse jumped.
For half a second, I had no idea what she was going to do.
Then she kissed my cheek.
Softly.
Nothing more.
“Good night.”
She stepped out.
I sat there like an idiot for at least thirty seconds after the door closed behind her.
Then I drove home.
I told myself that was the end of it.
It wasn’t.
Not even close.
Three weeks passed.
Michael moved into a furnished apartment downtown.
Karen stayed with her sister for four days, then returned to the Mercer house after her attorney advised her not to abandon the marital property.
