CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Washington, D.C., three days later …
Daniel, a bottle of Spanish red wine tucked under his arm, took a deep breath and rang what used to be his doorbell. Now it Veronica’s doorbell. She had gotten the house in a suburb of D.C. as part of the divorce settlement. He could have used his keys—he had kept a spare set that for nostalgic reasons that he had never told Veronica about—but he decided that wouldn’t get the evening off to a good start.
Veronica answered within a couple of seconds, showing she had been waiting near the door. Daniel blinked. She looked great. She wore a red satin dress (satin had always driven him crazy) and an emerald necklace he had given her for their fifth anniversary.
She smiled. It was the first real smile she had given him in a long time.
