Chapter 2

She surveyed the results in the floor-length mirror on the back of her door. Not too bad for a forty-three-year-old divorcee with a college-age son. Sweet, funny, gorgeous Steven would never know what hit him.

She just hoped he spoke more than a dozen words to her this time. The last time she’d had to take a package across the hall, he’d taken it, mumbled something about a deadline, and left her standing there.

Sydney knocked twice on the door, waited thirty seconds, gnawed on her bottom lip, and knocked again. She supposed it was possible that he wasn’t home. Possible, but unlikely. Everybody on their floor always asked Steven to water their plants and feed their cats when they went on vacation because everybody knew Steven never went anywhere. But maybe he had developed some sort of social life while nobody was looking?

Oh, God. Maybe he had a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?