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I text Greg. Leaving in ten. Need me to bring anything?
His response makes me smile. Just your beautiful self.
I gather my things. Then I go from room to room, turning off the lights. I’m halfway down the rounded staircase when the front door chimes. “Hello,” I call to a man standing in the foyer. His eyes are at floor level; he doesn’t immediately see me.
When he looks up, surprise flickers across his expression. His gaze fixes on me, and he smiles. It is a friendly smile, but it’s shrouded in something else, something not exactly happy. “I was just closing up,” I say, making my way down the stairs. “But you could always make an appointment.”
“It’s okay.” He shakes the flyer in his hand. “I won’t be long. Actually,” he says, looking up at me with shielded eyes, “I think I’ve seen enough.”
The way he looks at me makes me uneasy. I grip the banister. My knees suddenly feel wobbly, and I don’t trust that I won’t trip down the remaining stairs. He is tall, even from my vantage point. “What’s something like this cost, anyway?” he asks.
He has a rough voice and a muscular build, thick, wavy blond hair, and shiny white teeth. He doesn’t make it easy to gauge his age. “The asking price is two point four.”
“Two point four, huh?” He makes a clucking sound with his tongue and scans the room. He’s dressed well and sports a tan like he golfs a lot or has just returned from vacation. Whichever the case, he’s seen his day in the sun. “And would you say it’s worth that?”
“I don’t need to. The comps say so.”
“Mind if I look around?” he asks, taking a step toward the kitchen. “I’ll be quick.”
“Um—” I check the time on my phone. My palms are so clammy it nearly slips from my hand. I take the remaining steps slowly.
As I follow him into the formal dining room, he pivots on his heel, startling me. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”
There’s a familiarity about him, but I can’t place his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t.”
“You’re not sorry yet,” he says. “But you will be.”
My head cocks, and then he laughs as though the joke is on me. “That’s funny.” He plucks my card from the stack on the granite countertop and studies it for several long beats before looking up. “Because I know exactly who you are.”
Raw panic edges up my spine. A sense of dread twists in my gut. It’s silly, I realize. I grip my phone so hard my palm hurts. He doesn’t look like a creep, but there’s something not quite right about him either. “I’m sorry,” I repeat, scooping up my things. I scoot around and past him, making a beeline for the door. He steps backward in quick strides, placing himself in front of me. Not enough to block me in completely, but enough so I understand he hasn’t finished what he wants to say.
“You’ve really matured.”
For a second, my mind flits to what could be. To who he could be. But no, I don’t think so.
He holds his hands up as I push past him. This time he fully blocks the exit. “It’s not so fun, being caged in, is it?”
“I have to go,” I tell him, wielding my phone like a weapon, knowing if what he has come for is to harm me, it won’t do me any good at this point. “My husband is waiting.”
He looks toward the front of the house. “Outside?”
I press my lips together and nod.
“Oh, Amy,” he hisses. “Amy. Amy. Amy. Now that couldn’t possibly be true, could it? Greg is across town at the soccer fields.”
My hand reaches for the doorknob and makes contact.
“Dreadful game,” he smirks. “Don’t worry. You didn’t miss much.”
“Who are you?”
Placing one fist against the doorframe, he leans in, glaring down at me. He wears the same eerie smile. “Pity you’ve forgotten. But then, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
I twist the knob and pull at the door. It opens an inch before he puts his palm on it, holding it in place. “My face should be more memorable. Considering you held my fate—” He glances at the
phone in my hand. “You held it right there, in your hands. It meant nothing, though, did it?”
“I—”
