Page 164 of The Bad Husband

I’ve done many things these past two years. Graduated. Worked a few jobs. Started a business. Became a consultant. But never moved away from the idea of him.

Never found the time to go out and meet new people.

Never considered dating again.

A small part of me still brims with curiosity about him.

Have any of the things he had predicted become true?

Although we’ve never kept in touch and I haven’t had a sign from him, that part of me has never let go of him.

One of my attorneys informed me a few weeks ago that Damon West might be considered for an early release.

It might happen as soon as this week.

There are only a few days left before Christmas, and I’m becoming more restless with each passing day.

I take a few long breaths, enjoy the smell of winter, and then close the window and return to the kitchen.

I’m usually not that great at baking, but these days I’d do anything to keep myself busy.

A few minutes after eight, I pull out a tray of cupcakes and decorate them with buttercream before I turn on the TV.

The volume is low as I return to the kitchen to finish my work.

Minutes later, I taste one of them and set it down, satisfied with how delicious it is.

Chewing on it, I reach for a bottle of water in the refrigerator when my doorbell rings.

I turn to stone. Then I swallow quickly, move fast around the kitchen island, and sweep my phone off the countertop.

No one has called me or sent me a message to tell me they’d show up at my door.

I move quickly to the window and try to look outside. The man is too close to the door and out of my line of sight.

My heart races as I step out of the apartment, enter the foyer, and check the person through the peephole.

I recognize one of Damon’s men.

It’s the one who guarded my street for the longest. The one who likes my cupcakes.

I open the door.

“Hi,” I say, hugging myself.

He hears gloves, a short winter coat, and boots. His breath instantly becomes white steam.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, noticing the envelope in his hand.

“Everything’s fine. He wanted you to have this.”

I feel the cold twice as hard.

Wanted?

As in the past tense?

As in what the fuck is this?