Holiday In the Hamptons (From Manhattan with Love 5)

He stepped out of the car, wishing he could just drag her up to the bedroom and not leave for at least a week. But he wouldn’t ever treat her as a distraction. Or a cure.

“I wasn’t expecting you.”

“One thing—” She raised one finger, playing the game that had become routine. “I love doing the unexpected. I thought I’d surprise you. Your turn. And make it a good one. Something really dark and dirty.” She leaned against her car, eyes gleaming with hum

or and invitation until she saw something in his face. Humor quickly melted into concern. “What’s wrong? Did you lose a patient? I heard the Jenkinses’ dog was hit by a car.”

“The dog is going to be fine, although he spent two hours in surgery.” And he’d spent almost as much time reassuring and soothing Lily and Doug Jenkins, who had been distraught at the prospect of losing a much-loved pet.

Maybe it was the pressure that had given him a thumping headache, and not the prospect of selling memories of his father to the highest bidder.

“You’re a bit of a hero, Dr. Carlyle. You should be celebrating.”

He’d never felt less like celebrating. “Not tonight. There’s somewhere I need to be.” And she didn’t need to be part of that.

She eased away from the car and walked across to him. “I’m new to this game, but I’m pretty sure this is the part where you tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I’m meeting Chase at my parents’ house. That friend I told you about who may be interested in buying it? He wants to take a look around.”

“Oh, Seth.” She put her arms around him and hugged him. “I didn’t know you’d made the decision. And I had no idea it would happen this fast.”

Breathing in the scent of her hair and feeling the lean lines of her body pressed against him made him wish he could just take her inside, switch off his phone and block out the world.

“It’s fine.”

She gave a short laugh and eased away so that she could look at him. “I’m the one who is supposed to hide feelings, not you.”

“True. In that case, yes, I admit this sucks.”

“Why not wait a while? What’s the hurry?”

“It’s what my mother wants. I talked to her last night. Seems like I’m the only one who isn’t in a hurry to let it go.” He sighed. “My father loved the place. I know it sounds crazy, but it feels like I’m losing part of him all over again.”

He’d told her about that night his father had died, right through from his mother’s frantic 2 a.m. call to the mad dash to the hospital. And he’d told her about his feelings when he realized he was too late and wasn’t even going to get to say goodbye. Regret chasing regret. Things he wished he’d said, and hadn’t. Time he wished he’d spent, and hadn’t. The realization that control is an illusion. That tragedy picks its victims randomly and without mercy. That a perfect life could change in an instant and that time, once gone, was gone forever.

All useless, wasted, pain-inflicting thoughts.

“Couldn’t you delay things until you’ve had time to get used to the idea?”

“If we’re going to do it, then it’s better to do it sooner rather than later. We need to sell it before it starts to need a ton of upkeep, and if Chase has a potential buyer then I can’t afford to ignore that.”

“In that case I’ll come with you.”

“I don’t want you to do that. It’s not going to be fun.”

“We’re friends. Friends are there for the tough bits as well as the easy bits.” She locked her car and shoved the keys in her pocket. “Let’s go.”

He found that he didn’t want to argue. “With luck, I’m going to have the easiest sale in the history of real estate. Mom won’t have to worry about money again.”

“But you don’t care about the money,” she murmured. “You never did. With you it’s never about the money.”

“I was lucky enough not to have to think about it.”

“Plenty of people don’t have to think about it, but still think about it all the time. It dominates everything, influences all their decisions. Are they doing the right thing? Behaving the right way? Wearing the right clothes? Being seen in the right places, mixing with the right people? You never cared about any of that. And you won’t care that the market is good, or whether Chase has got you a great deal. You do care that you’re selling your family home, somewhere you spent summers and Thanksgiving for more years than you can remember.”

He remembered them. He remembered all of them.

“The place is full of memories. For Mom, that’s hard. But for me—” He hesitated and she nodded.