was somebody’s type. Or she had been. Her hair was still bushy—it kind of went with the eyebrows—but her face was pale and bland. Her eyes were wide as she watched him, arms hugging her torso, her hands disappearing into the sleeves of a gray hoodie she wore with baggy pants. She always wore a gray hoodie and baggy pants.
Depressed. The thought came to him and he wondered why he hadn’t seen it before. She spent hours in her office dungeon staring at a computer screen. It was enough to make anybody depressed.
“You need to get out more,” he told her.
She blinked and visibly relaxed.
What? Had she thought he was going to hit her or something? When had he ever threatened her? Sure, he’d been mad earlier, but that was mostly frustration and he was over it. Or as much as he would ever be over it.
“I know,” she said. “And I’ve already promised you that next time, I’ll find—”
“I meant, for you. You look like a mole.”
Another blink. “I get out. What do you call running with you every morning?”
“We’re running together?”
He raised his eyebrows and she held up her hands. “Okay, we leave at the same time. Give me a break. I’m still increasing my endurance.”
“You need light, Mole Girl. It’s dark outside then.”
“That’s because it’s December.”
And that was another thing. “Is it?” Ty looked all around. “Where?”
“What do you mean, where?”
“I couldn’t help noticing the lack of holiday spirit around here.”
When she gazed at him warily, he gestured with the bottle. “Over there is a two-story bay window with nothing in front of it.”
“I like the uncluttered look.”
“You can be uncluttered for the other eleven months of the year, but that spot is begging for a tree. Where’s your tree?”
“Still growing, I guess.”
“Same as last year?”
“Trees take a long time to grow.”
Yeah, she was depressed all right. He should have noticed before now. “Why don’t you decorate?”
“Because then I’d have to undecorate.” She spoke with exaggerated patience.
“Well, yeah.”
She stared at him, one of those I’m-dealing-with-a-crazy-person stares. “What kind of look is that?” he asked her. “It’s a reasonable question.”
“We both went home for Christmas last year,” she reminded him. “Putting up a tree would have been a waste of time.”
“We’re not going anywhere this year. Our parents are doing that Christmas and New Year’s cruise.”
“So?”
Ty opened his mouth, but when he couldn’t think of anything to say, he took another sip of beer.
Marlie’s face suddenly cleared. “I get it. You and Axelle want to decorate for Christmas.” She flapped a long sleeve at him. “Please. Go ahead. Knock yourselves out.”
Ty hadn’t thought of it, but a decorating date wasn’t a bad idea. Hot cocoa with a shot of Kahlua, sugar cookies, the air conditioning set on low so there could be a fire in the fireplace, jazzy Christmas music playing, maybe those cinnamony candles burning, all the good feelings associated with the holidays… Ty was so caught up in the idea, he almost didn’t notice that Marlie had turned away and was headed upstairs to her bedroom.
“Hey.”
She stopped and looked down at him, no curiosity in her eyes. Not much of anything, actually. But then, he hadn’t spent a lot of time looking at Marlie Waters. When they were younger, he’d never paid attention because he was usually irritated.
For the first time, he considered that she was probably equally annoyed to have been dumped on him during their summer trips. Kind of like the way he’d been dumped on her the past few months.
There was a thought he hadn’t expected. This was her house after all; although it was so easy living here he tended to forget. Their moms had cooked up this scheme when he’d been transferred to Houston. At first, Ty had only contacted Marlie to be able to say he had, but once he’d seen all this empty space and she seemed okay with him staying here…but had she been? Okay with it? Had her mom pressured her? Was having him living here making her depressed?
As he looked up at her, he tried to remember if her expression had always been carefully blank and he was only noticing now because of the new vantage point, or if he should get her into therapy ASAP and find some place else to live.
She was waiting for him to say something.
“I appreciate you letting me stay here. I know it’s been a lot longer than we thought it was going to be.” He watched for a reaction, a clue to her thoughts.
“It’s not a problem.”
Nothing. “Yeah, but you can’t buy your own furniture when I’ve got mine taking up all the room.” He nodded toward the living area. His stuff looked great in there, but it was guy stuff—an overscale chocolate-brown sofa, a massive coffee table he liked to put his feet on, and the flat screen TV mounted on the wall. You could barely see Marlie’s glass dining table and she’d moved her loveseat downstairs to her office. “If you want me to put it in storage, say the word.”
“It’s fine,” she said with a hint of emotion. “Furniture shopping isn’t in the budget, which is why if you weren’t paying rent, I’d have to find someone else.” She took a step and then added, “But don’t feel obligated to stay here if it’s not working for you.”
She seemed sincere. “I want to stay here,” Ty assured her. “It’s a great location. Better than my house, assuming it ever gets finished.”
“That’s why I picked this place.” She gazed into the distance. “How could I pass up a revitalized neighborhood in the heart of the city with a chance to build a brand-new home just the way I wanted?” Marlie looked around. “And now I have my dream house. I chose every fixture, the colors, the floors, the crown molding, the upgraded granite counter tops, the marble around the fireplace, the appliances, the vanities and tile and the rain head in the shower.” Marlie’s voice grew louder. “I looked at over a thousand door pulls to find just the right ones.”
“And they’re perfect.” He’d never noticed them. Who paid attention to hardware?
She gripped the banister. “You see this maple? I chose this.” She slowly caressed it.
“Gorgeous.” Why hadn’t he let her walk upstairs?
Marlie nodded dreamily. “The builder thought I wouldn’t notice when he substituted oak, but I did and I made him redo our railings.” She blinked and froze. “My railings,” she corrected in a quieter voice. “My. Railings.”
Oh, no. The broken engagement. No, no, no. Not going there. They’d never discussed it and there was no need to bring it up. If he did, he was in for tears and sobbing and wailing and who knows what hysteria.
Marlie’s face had gone even paler and she seemed to shrink.
Say good-night he told himself. Escape now.
She white-knuckled her precious maple banister.
Ty groaned inwardly. What the heck, the night was already shot. He might as well man up and let her sob on his shoulder for a few minutes. “Marlie, my mom told me you’d been engaged, but she didn’t know what happened.”
“That’s because my mother doesn’t know what happened, so she couldn’t