Alpha Male Romance(41)

That's what I had to remember. As much good as this trip was doing for me, it wasn't about me. This was about X, and making sure that he was okay. Father O'Toole hadn't gone into any specifics about X's mental state, but the actions the priest had described worried me. His urgency also told me more than his words.

I didn't go to the ticket counter, but rather to the rental car I'd arranged to have waiting for me. Father O'Toole had offered to come pick me up, but I'd declined, saying I'd rather get the lay of the land, so to speak. I didn't mind driving, and it would give me a chance to clear my head from the flight. It'd been three hours, but the time difference meant that I'd arrived here four hours later than I'd left, making it early afternoon here. At least an hour wasn't much in the way of jet-lag.

The directions Father O'Toole had given me were good, so I had no trouble finding my way to Rittenhouse Square. What he hadn't told me, however, was the sort of neighborhood it was in. When the priest told me that there was a trust to pay for my expenses and a house where I'd have an entire floor, I'd assumed it was some cramped fixer-upper the church had given him for X, and I'd be staying in an attic. I hadn't really thought of it being a bad neighborhood, but I definitely hadn't expected anything like this.

Three story, red brick. Not exactly colonial, I didn't think, but definitely somewhere close to that time period. How in the world had a priest gotten his hands on this place? For the first time, I considered the possibility that the trust he'd mentioned had nothing to do with his parish.

I parked in front of the house, unsure where he'd want the car, then took a deep breath and checked my reflection in the mirror. Despite the make-up I'd applied before leaving, the shadows under my eyes were still visible. I adjusted the clip holding my hair back and hoped I was presentable enough. I didn't want to fuss over my appearance and make it look like I was trying to look good for X. Business presentable. That's what I wanted.

I exhaled slowly, then got out of the car. It was quieter here than I'd imagined it would be. I thought all big cities sounded the same. San Antonio was certainly full of noise, though I had to admit that I rarely ventured outside the small area that included work and home. I couldn't speak for all of Philadelphia, but this part was definitely much nicer than I'd anticipated.

I walked up the short front sidewalk, up the stairs, and knocked on the door. A minute passed and it opened. Father O'Toole beamed at me, and I couldn't help but smile back. I had a vague memory of my Grandpa Prinz smiling at me like that.

“Welcome, my dear. Come in.” He stepped to the side and swept out his arm. As I walked past, he asked, “No luggage?”

“I have a couple bags,” I said. “They're in the car. I figured I'd take a look around before bringing them in.”

The father nodded. “I understand. You won't want to bring any additional things until you're certain you're staying.”

“That's right.” I felt bad for saying it, but I had to make sure he understood, up front, that it wasn't guaranteed. I knew all too well what false hope could do.

“Let me show you around,” the priest said. His smile looked tighter now, but no less genuine. “On the first floor, we have the living room.” He gestured to our right. “The dining room.” To our left.

When he started to walk, I followed, the knots in my stomach tightening more with each step. X was here, but he hadn't come down to meet me. I didn't know what that meant. Had the father not told him I was coming? Or did X not want me here? I wasn't sure which scenario to hope for.

“Here's the kitchen.” Father O'Toole paused in the middle of it. “Since the chef is gone, I appreciate some help keeping the kitchen stocked with decent meals. None of them have to be elaborate, and I don't expect you to cook to X's tastes. If you want to spend one day making meals for the next five or six days, that's fine. I just don't want X eating any of those pre-packaged things.”

I nodded. He'd mentioned the cooking before. I didn't mind. I actually enjoyed it, but rarely had time to do more than zap something in the microwave. The kitchen wasn't elaborate, but everything in here was top of the line. Definitely a job perk.

“There's a door to the basement,” he continued. “It's pretty much just used for storage right now, but it's clean and well-lit. There's a walk-in pantry and a supply closet over there.” He started back the way we'd come in and went through the living room this time. “The first-floor bathroom is through there.” He pointed. “Then the library slash office.” He gestured to another door. “It's not huge, but it has a decent collection. There's a pull-out couch in there that I've been using the past few nights.”