Lucy’s brows rose. “Do tell. Was he crooked?”
“He was small. He was a straight-missionary, lay-there-quietly and no-cuddling-after sort of guy.”
Lucy frowned. “Well, that’s just sad. But didn’t you sleep with him before you were married?”
“He wanted to be traditional. I was fine with it. I thought it was sweet.”
“My sex life sounds better than yours,” Lucy offered.
“I thought you weren’t seeing anyone?”
“I’m not,” Lucy said. “Still better.”
Tatum burst out laughing.
“I am sorry, Tatum. I know...” She paused. “I know Spencer hurt you. If he hadn’t, I think you two would already be married.”
“Probably,” she agreed. The few times she’d let herself go there, it had been pretty idyllic. A dream versus a reality. “But that doesn’t mean we’d be happy.”
“Why wouldn’t you be?” Lucy argued. “You were. So was he.”
“If he’d been happy with me, he wouldn’t have dumped me.” She cleared her throat. “Not that I want a relationship right now—I don’t. At all. But later, much, much later, I’m hoping that whole third-time’s-a-charm thing applies to me.”
Lucy hugged her. “Me too, Tatum. Me too.”
At least Spencer hadn’t made it awkward this morning. Okay, waking up to an empty bed was hard, but she hadn’t had to worry about facing conversations or feelings, doubts or worries where Spencer was concerned.
Instead of overanalyzing things—again—she’d sat up and taken a look around what had been her parents’ bedroom. Spencer, or someone, had done some major work in the space. The horrible wallpaper was gone. The shag carpet pulled up to reveal wood floors. It was lovely. As was the master bath.
Which made her wonder what the rest of the house could look like.
“Change of subject, but I’ve been thinking about the whole home-office thing—”
“You have?” Lucy interrupted.
“The house needs some work.” Tatum nodded.
“If you and Spence decide to keep your hands off one another for a day, I’d be happy to come over and help you with the house.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Tatum smiled. “I’ve never really had the chance to make a space my own. I think it could be fun.” And it would increase the house’s resale value.
“Are we talking the whole house? Not just turning your bedroom into a fully functional office space?” Lucy’s smile grew at Tatum’s nod. “I’m so excited.”
Tatum stood in the middle of her bedroom, staring at the lavender walls, the tacked-up pictures and remaining high school memorabilia. She’d started pulling things down and boxing them away but it was depressing as hell. An emotion she was trying to avoid.
“This room makes more sense as an office.” Lucy opened the blinds on the two windows. “Behind this is an exterior door?” She tapped on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf.
Tatum nodded. Her mother had it sealed from the outside, but surely that wouldn’t be too big a fix? She could put in a stone path directly to the office so it was separate from the rest of the house. And the large windows offered a gorgeous view of a greenbelt. In a few months, the fields would be covered with vibrant bluebonnets, touches of red and yellow and pink.
Tatum said, “I can almost see it.”
“That’s the first step, then. Visualization is a solid step toward implementation.” She giggled. “We need to go to the hardware store and look at paint samples too. I think a sleepover might be required. S’mores, wine, architecture magazines. Maybe a movie too?”
“I like it,” Tatum replied. “Just promise me no chick flicks and I’m in.”
Lucy nodded. “How about action flicks with shirtless hot guys?”
“Deal.”