"Uh, take the first right then left." She kept her head tipped toward the sprawling homes that bordered on mansion size with their manicured lawns. "I've been mulling over what you said earlier."
"Which something?"
"About needing closure." She pointed to the yellow home at the end of the cul-de-sac.
"There. Pull over and stop, please."
Realization cold-cocked him. This was her old neighborhood, her old house. He pulled alongside the curb and slid the Jeep into neutral.
Holy crap, crime paid well. Even in the dark of night with only the stars and a couple of security lights, he could see she'd lived in one helluva place during her time here as Mrs.
Haugen. Two stories, the house was easily four thousand square feet of fairly new construction to go with those columns and wraparound porch.
He would never be able to give a wife anything close to this. Not that he was thinking in those terms about the woman next to him. Sure he wanted to get married someday when the right one came along, but he and Paige had never discussed there being anything beyond next week.
Still, he tried to reconcile his image of the practical woman next to him in that house.
He'd seen enough of her brother's faltering business to know she was more than pulling her weight around there, and he'd never heard her complain.
His mind tripped over a question he hadn't considered before. How badly did Vic need money?
"I forgot about the flowers."
Her amazed whisper closed off other thoughts.
"What about the flowers?"
"Kirstie and I planted flowers just like those." She nodded toward the overflowing bed of marigolds shaded by taller daffodils. "And she and I had picnics under that oak tree by the azalea bush. She had little friends here, too, and they raced bikes along the sidewalks."
"All the things kids should do."
"Memories that have nothing to do with Kurt and his damn money." She sagged back in her seat, her thumb toying with the collar of her shirt.
His shirt.
Lust tightened inside him with an urgency to claim her as his, totally separate from this world. "You and Kirstie are well on your way to making more happy memories in a new place."
"I know. But I needed to see this. I needed to know that I didn't screw everything up, that her years here weren't a total mistake."
"She's a good kid. That doesn't happen overnight."
"A good kid who thinks a case of sunburn must be rubella."
"A good kid who's had a rough year, but is putting everything back together just like her mama. I happen to think both you ladies have done a damn fine job."
"Thank you." Her eyes darted as if taking in everything one last time to record each detail. "And thank you for bringing me here so I could remember all those good things Kirstie and I did together."
"What about her father?" He couldn't resist asking.
"He always said he loved her, like in the letter." Shuddering, she skimmed her hands along her bare arms in spite of the eighty-degree evening. "How awful is it to be relieved I never have to show the hypocrisy to Kirstie?"
"Where does he play into those memories you have of this house?"
Yeah, yeah, he knew he had a selfish reason for wondering. Major "duh" moment. He was less than an hour from being with this woman. She'd said she didn't love the scumbag anymore, but she must have at some time. Had that love stopped in the police station? Or earlier, as Vic had hinted?
It mattered to him right now, a helluva lot.
"He was obsessed with getting ahead with his restaurant so he could give us more. We really didn't see him all that often, and if he made it to preschool plays or gymnastic shows, he came late and spent half the time on his cell phone. I used to think if we had more time together, I could figure out what was wrong with him, me, the way I was feeling about him. Or rather, the way I wasn't feeling anymore."