Indulge Me

“No. So. This morning, I go to Marjory Houston’s house to take back one of her husband’s paintings.”

“The hideous one from your dad’s study?”

“Yup. Only it’s not Marjory Houston at the house.”

“No, she’s at Royal Oaks.”

“Instead it’s…Well, it’s…”

“Tyler Houston lives there now.”

“Right. Him.”

“And?”

“Him, Molly. Him.”

Molly’s gasp came over the line loud and clear, followed by a giggle. “Oh. My. God. You seduced Tyler Houston?”

“Apparently.”

Molly of course only saw the humor in this disaster and helped herself to a good long belly laugh at Darcy’s expense.

“You didn’t recognize him?”

“Why would I? I only saw him a few times that I can remember, and that was over ten years ago. He’s at least five years older than me, and let’s face it, sort of invisible next to his brother.”

“But you can see him now, I take it.”

“He grew up.” She pictured him coming into her room naked except for the towel and then naked without the towel and couldn’t help a dreamy smile. If only he’d stayed Garrett. But even now, knowing he was Tyler didn’t change that last night was perfect.

“So what now? When are you going to see him next?”

“I’m not.” She started pacing again. “Obviously.”

“What? Why?”

“Because it was only an accident that he turned out to be a real person. While he was a fantasy, the entire experience was amazing.”

“Oh, give me a—”

“I’m serious.” She directed her pacing to the ugly brown couch by the front window and sprawled on it. “And I want more.”

“You just said you weren’t going to see him.”

“No. With someone else. A different fantasy. Last night was amazing, Molly. I felt so free and powerful. And sexy, like movie-star sexy. The most amazing high I’ve ever had. I want that again.”

“Okay, now you’re scaring me.”

“No. I’m telling you, it was incredible.”

“Yeah, I hear heroin gives a pretty good high, too. Doesn’t make it a good idea.”

“Honestly.” Darcy gave a boring beige throw pillow a good solid punch. “Do all people start parenting everyone they know after they have kids?”

“Only when they need it.”

“Molly…”

“You know, the more I think about it, you and Tyler could make a really good couple. He’s smart, funny, really sharp. He’ll be teaching at UWM next fall. Bruce admires him, and you know Bruce, he doesn’t suffer fools.”

“I know that about Bruce.”

“So why not? Is he interested? I mean, obviously he was last night. What guy wouldn’t be with your, er, charming offer on the table. But this morning?”

Darcy scrunched up her mouth. He had looked at her sort of eagerly now that she thought about it. He had invited her in for coffee. Her insides started to warm and soften. His eyes were such a gorgeous color. Sometimes blue, sometimes green, often both. They made her—

Wait, what was she thinking? “Whether or not he’s interested is beside the point. I’m not interested.”

“Why not? He’s a hell of a catch.”

“I’m leaving town in a few weeks. Why would I want to start something? The only thing I have room for is fun.”

“Right.” Molly made a characteristic scoffing sound and Darcy could picture her disapproving face as if she was in the room next to her. “So. Then, uh, tell me, what’s your next big fun?”

“Well…” She tipped her head to one side, wondering why Molly had asked the question so oddly. Maybe because she didn’t really want to know? But Darcy did. What other fantasy could she fulfill? Another of her favorites popped into her head as if it had been waiting impatiently for its turn. “Next I’m going to dress in a sexy, black-leather-mini outfit, stiletto heels, killer makeup and strut into a bar baring my bad-assed attitude for all the world to see.”

Molly made a choking sound. “I need antacids just listening to this.”

“Aw, c’mon. Haven’t you always wanted to be a hot confident babe-ola just for a little while?”

“No, for God’s sake, and you know why? Because I have a brain, that’s why. Fantasies are called fantasies for a reason, and that reason is this. Because. They’re. Not. Real.”

Darcy frowned. Not that she expected sensible, practical, anti-glamour Molly, who met Bruce in high school and never looked back, to jump up and down at her idea, but she sounded stretched extra thin and had the day before, too. “Hey, girl. Something’s bothering you. What is it?”

“No. Nothing is bothering me.”

Darcy let the silence hang. “Moll…”

Molly sighed. “Bruce.”

“Bruce…what?”

“He’s…started going to some personal trainer.” Her sentence accelerated like a sports car. “So what, suddenly he hates the fact that he’s getting old and fat when he’s been a work in progress for years and years?”

“Bruce is working out?” She tried to picture beefy jolly Bruce breaking a sweat over anything but a Packers game on TV. “Bruce?”

“He met this woman through his work, selling her the usual physical therapy equipment. She offers to train him, which she does on the side. He accepts. She’s young, stunning, looks like Angelina Jolie. I haven’t seen her, this is his description. He talks about her all the time, how great she is, how strong she is, how smart she is…”