She stuffed the piece of pipe and paper needles into a box. It didn't fit, no matter how much she shoved.
"I'm taking this hideous tree to the dump tomorrow," she said. "Unless you have a sentimental attachment to it."
He stared at her for a long moment, chewing and then swallowing his bite of stew. "Unless I have a…" He shook his head, his smile a shade bitter. "I've always hated that tree."
That was that, then.
He set his plate on the coffee table and reclined against the couch again, still upright but allowing his head to fall back on the cushions. As if just the act of eating had exhausted him.
"Do you have a real tree at Christmas?" she asked. “Back in Houston?”
"Hmm? No."
She tossed the strand of lights she'd pulled from the tree on top of the box. They were at least ten years old, half the lights out, just like she'd guessed from the beginning.
"I know they make a mess, but I love real trees," she said. "I guess an artificial tree can be nice, too, though."
He pulled the top blanket across his lap. "I don't usually decorate for the holiday. Too busy with work." He paused. "And no one to decorate for."
"That's really sad." She and her roommate had found a tiny potted evergreen for sale outside a hardware store near campus and had overloaded their dorm room with paper stars and lights hung along the ceiling.
"My guess is you're one of those guys who breaks off a relationship before the holiday gets too close. That way, you can save your money and not waste it on girlfriend gifts."
He laughed, his eyes widening. "I seem like that kind of guy?"
"No." She shoved the two big boxes of fake tree toward the front door. Hound Dog got up and moved, rounding the boxes cautiously. "You seem like the kind of guy a smart woman wouldn't let get away."
He considered her for a long moment, eyes at half-mast. "Tell that to my ex girlfriend," he mumbled.
Ex. Some part of her couldn't help but wonder if it had been serious.
Not that it was her business.
"You also seem like someone who knows better than to keep holding on to some old grudge. You should make up with Iris and Jilly." When she'd called Iris earlier, the other woman had been genuinely concerned about Cord.
Now his eyes slid closed. Tired, or didn't want to admit she was right?
"It's not my grudge," he said quietly.
With a groan, he pushed himself off the sofa. "I'm going to sleep in my own bed."
"I don't…"Know if that's a great idea.Think you should climb to the second floor. Want to be alone.
He didn't wait for her permission, just headed for the stairs, his steps slow and feet dragging.
