Page 27
Niall opened the door, looking more relaxed than Chuck had ever seen him. He’d traded his usual button-down and khakis for worn jeans and a faded university T-shirt. His dark hair was damp, as if he’d stepped out of the shower to answer the doorbell.
“Hey.” Niall stepped back to let Chuck in. “You didn’t get lost on the stairs?”
“All I had to do was climb.” Chuck winked. “Pretty good commute.”
“Right.” Niall looked flustered. “Come in. Thai got here two minutes ago. Didn’t know your preference, so I ordered a spread.”
The inside of the house was neat but lived-in, with bookshelves lining most available wall space. Winnie’s drawings were pinned to a cork board in the hallway, and a collection of mismatched mugs hung from hooks in the kitchen. More a home than a house….
“Cool place.” Chuck set the beer on the kitchen counter.
“Thanks. It’s small, but it works for us.” Niall pulled two plates from a cabinet. “Winnie’s room is up front because she loved the witch-hat turret. She’s been lobbying for a dog, but I keep telling her we don’t have a yard.”
“Every kid wants a dog.”
“Did you have one growing up?”
Chuck nodded, surprised by the pang of nostalgia that hit him. “A mutt named Rusty. He was ancient by the time I was ten, but he followed me everywhere. Slept at the foot of my bed every night.”
“What happened to him?”
“Died while I was at summer camp. My parents didn’t tell me until I got home.” Chuck shrugged. “I was fourteen. Too old to cry about it, supposedly.”
Niall’s expression was sympathetic. “That’s rough. I lost my cat when I was twelve. Cried for days.”
“Sensitive soul,” Chuck teased, but gently.
“Always have been. It’s a curse.” Niall opened the Thai boxes. “Hope this is okay. I forgot to ask, but I figured—”
Chuck came closer and put his hand over Niall’s to steady him before he got too worked up. “This is perfect. I didn’t come for the noodles.”
Niall nodded and gulped.
They settled at the small kitchen table with their beer and their steaming plates, and the conversation flowed easily between them. Niall talked about Winnie’s school projects and the latest drama with the Shakespeare production. Chuck shared stories about the more eccentric clients he’d worked with in Seattle. It was comfortable—familiar in a way that should have been strange given how little time they’d actually spent together.
When they finished eating, Niall pulled out a sketchpad. “I had some thoughts about the treehouse design.”
Chuck raised his eyebrows, impressed. “You draw?”
“Not like you,” Niall admitted with a self-deprecating smile. “But I thought maybe we could incorporate some elements from Winnie’s favorite books. She’s obsessed with this series about a magical garden.”
He pushed the sketchpad across the table. The drawings were rudimentary but charming—he’d shifted the door off-center and drawn shutters over the window, and the rail had leaves. “I know it’s not a real tree, but it would be cool if we could make it feel more alive for her.”
“I love it,” Chuck said. “So the rail is made of ivy?”
Niall’s face lit up. “Yeah. I figure you’ll have the real safety rail, but we can disguise the whole span of it with some leaves and twine and vine-ify the protection to make it seem more like a living tree. Gavin built vines for one of the Paper Bag sets. And possibly a hidden compartment, because obviously? Winnie loves secret spaces.”
“Easy enough. We could build a secret door into one of the benches inside—a shelf or a chest. A place to hide treasure.”
“Exactly. Exactly.”
They spent the next hour refining the design, heads bent close together over the sketchpad. Chuck was acutely aware of Niall’s proximity—the clean sweetness of his shampoo, his fingers tightening on the pencil as he sketched, the occasional brush of their shoulders.
“This is going to blow her mind.” Niall shook his head with wonder as he leaned back to survey their tweaks. “I can’t believe you’re doing this for real.”
“Believe it,” Chuck said. “The frame and the post go in tomorrow. This bastard will be rock solid.”
Niall looked at him, suddenly serious. “Why do all this, Chuck? And don’t say it’s because you’re bored or need something to do.”
