He had a deep-seated, very large, cushiony, black L-shaped sectional, a flat screen TV and a shelving unit that held a top-of-the-line stereo with speakers built into the house giving surround sound even on the upper levels and out on the decks. There was also a stone hearth fireplace. Further, there were four unusual but awesome stools at the lip end of the counter of the massive, square island. Like the rest of the house, there were no rugs and tons of room to add more furniture. The fireplace would look great with some cool candleholders around it. The cream cabinets and black granite countertops in the kitchen would look fabulous with cream KitchenAid standing appliances (Ty only had a blender which was cream so that was why I knew cream would look good and then, of course, there was the coffeemaker, both, seeing as he liked “nice shit” and his friends undoubtedly knew that, were KitchenAid).

There was a lot you could do with his house. A new wife, a real one, would be in throes of ecstasy if she was carried over the threshold to this place.

On that not so happy thought, I washed my face, brushed my teeth and headed down to the kitchen.

No coffee in the coffeemaker. No note on the island. Ty just gone.

I made coffee and I used his strawberries, bananas and yogurt, cutting up the fruit and covering it with yogurt in the bowl. I poured myself a cup of joe and wandered out to the front deck that also had no furniture.

I set my coffee down on the railing after taking a sip then shoveled fruit and yogurt in my mouth while staring at the sun shining bright on Carnal, the green pine-covered hills beyond, the purple mountains beyond that.

I let the warm, morning sun shine down on me and I decided how to start my life.

Ty’s furniture was way better than mine, mine was cheap and I’d had it for nine years so it wasn’t in the best of shape. But my bed was newer, decent and would fit in one of the rooms on the middle floor. I’d need a bed when this was done. And he had plenty of room, my shit could be stored in his other room. And I’d bought my new computer only three months before. We’d get rid of his and he could get a new one when this was done and I went away.

I’d call Ella, tell her what to get rid of and what to send. I’d buy new of what I needed when my real life started. She said she was gently nudging Honey to move into my place and take over the lease and Honey was surprisingly considering this. Then again, Ella was not immune to motherly emotional manipulation, so not immune, she’d become a master at it and therefore she was coaxing Honey to cut the apron strings she’d latched onto by using helping me out as incentive. And Honey was sweet; she’d want to help me out. This meant Honey could use my furniture if she wanted to until she got set up.

I also needed a job. Ty might be able to cover me but I wasn’t going to let him. He lived his life, did his business, I’d do mine.

So I needed a paper.

People would expect his new wife would make his house a home. And I was his new wife. And I thought his decks needed flowers and furniture. So I’d see to that. If I had to live here for however long, I was going to enjoy the view and not do it standing at the railing.

I also had a town to discover. Maggie’s groceries were running out. I needed to do an inventory, toilet paper, cleaning supplies, laundry stuff (the washer and dryer being in a kickass utility room in the garage). He had friends and they’d probably wonder where I was. I couldn’t stay up here forever. That wouldn’t be doing my job.

I needed to break the seal, go into Carnal, see and be seen.

And thinking on laundry, I needed to do some. For me. For Ty.

Another thing to add to the list.

My plans set, I finished my bowl of breakfast, set it on the railing and stood there, sipping my coffee, staring at the view, having eaten and still feeling hollow.

I finished my coffee and still wasn’t full up.

And I knew I could eat a bathtub full of fruit and yogurt and not feel full.

This was because I was not the kind of girl who ever got to feel full. I knew that. I just had to learn to stop forgetting it.

I grabbed my bowl and went into the house to find my phone and call Ella.

I had things to do.

I had a life to fake starting.

* * * * *

Ty

Ty Walker hit the button on the garage door opener, the door slid open and he saw the Charger parked there. He’d taken an opener with him that day knowing Max would be bringing him the Viper. He’d put one in Lexie’s car and obviously she’d found it.

The Viper growled into the garage, the sound of the vehicle reverberating in the closed space. He shut her down, opened his door and folded out.

It wasn’t late. He’d planned to see to some business after work but he often still had a tail. They were sticking close. They hadn’t approached, made their intentions clear, they weren’t watching all the time but they were watching. It was too soon to try and shake them when they were. They’d know he was doing it. They’d be more alert.

He didn’t need that.

Still, when they weren’t, he’d made his connection, he’d handed over a f**kload of cash and he hoped like f**k Dewey would be hard at work. Not because of the cash, in normal circumstances Dewey would bolt with the cash, disappear for half a year doing whatever the f**k and whatever the f**k would undoubtedly include sitting a game or five dozen of them and he’d come back broke.

No, he hoped Dew would be hard at work because he knew Walker would find him if he bolted and when he did, Walker wouldn’t be happy. Dewey knew to avoid that.

But more, Dewey was a friend, had been since junior high and Walker hoped to God Dewey would fight the urge and do right by Walker.

So it was just after six. After work, he’d gone to the gym to work out.

And now he was home.

And so was Lexie.

He started to the door that led to the utility room and the interior stairs. By the door the garbage bins were standing side by side, the top of one having slid partially off. On his way to the door, automatically, he grabbed the handle to secure it but he caught a glance at something familiar inside the bin through the small opening left by the lid. It was familiar enough to capture his attention. He pulled the lid entirely off to see what it was and stopped dead.

Big bags filled with party trash on bottom. Lexie’s wedding bouquet on top.

It was looking tired, petals falling off, blooms drooping but she’d carefully carried that thing to the Charger when they left Vegas and made sure the stems were in water the minute she could when they were in Moab. When they got to Carnal, he’d lost track of it. She could have brought it in the house but he didn’t remember seeing it.