Chapter 23Roberto stood in the courtyard of his old home—the red-brick condo building in Evanston.
The night air was humid, heavy. Smells of soil and a sweet floral scent reached him. Even the ocean-like smell of Lake Michigan danced on his senses on this quiet night. Fireflies winked in the air, golden, magical. Crickets chirped.
He sat down on the concrete bench under the old Maple tree and looked up. Flickering blue light emanated from the French doors of their old place. Cara must be watching a movie.
Is she alone?
Has someone already taken my place?
He felt a bit of a fool, here on this sticky night, watching windows from below like a stalker.
But damn it, he missed her. He missed the way she laughed. The way she always straightened the knot in his tie before he departed for the
