Free Little Secrets by Megan Hart Page A

crimson-upholstered fainting couch with carved wooden legs and accents of gold thread, she knew she had to have it. She’d never wanted anything so much at first glance, not ever.
    Well. Maybe once before, but that had been a man and not a piece of furniture.
    This was the first time an inanimate object had moved her to such instant, almost-feral desire. She touched it with reverent fingers, testing the upholstery. It was old, not in the best shape. It didn’t even look comfortable, really, unless maybe you were a Victorian lady used to corsets and sitting stiffly upright. It was definitely not the sort of couch you were supposed to loll upon.
    â€œI want it,” she said.
    Sean turned from where he’d been looking at a display of old Looney Tunes glasses in a locked cabinet. “Hey, look. Like the ones we found in the house. Jesus, they’re like five bucks apiece. My mom had the whole set of these. I bet we could get them from her.”
    â€œGood luck with that.” Sean’s mom had lots of things tucked away in her cupboards, on shelves, stored in boxes. She wasn’t apt to give anything up, though she was fond of making lists about who was going to get what when she inevitably passed away. Which, according to his mother, could be at any moment.
    Ignoring the sign that said Please Do NOT Sit , Ginny lowered herself onto the couch, testing the firmness. The legs didn’t wobble. A puff of dust came out, tickling her nose. She looked at him. “I want it.”
    Sean’s mouth pursed. “That? Why?”
    â€œIt’s perfect,” Ginny said simply. There was no other answer. This couch was perfect, she wanted it. It didn’t matter the cost or how they were supposed to get it home.
    Sean scratched his head and cupped the back of his neck with a hand while he gave her a squint-eyed look. “Where would you put it?”
    â€œThe library.” Already she could imagine just how she’d angle it in front of the bookshelves. The pendent lamp from the living room, an end table, a warm and cozy throw. She stroked a hand over the upholstery. “It’ll be my Christmas present.”
    Her husband held out a hand to help her up. He pulled her into his arms, held her close and nuzzled her nose before kissing her lightly. “It’s old. Since when do you like old furniture?”
    â€œNewsflash,” she said. “We live in an old house now. The kind that antiques look good in. And it’s good for the environment. You know. Reduce, reuse, recycle and all that.”
    Sean looked dubious. “Okay. If you really want it.”
    â€œI do. I want it. It’s so gorgeous, and it will be perfect in the library.” She ran a hand over the fabric again.
    * * * * *
    â€œI thought you were going to use it as a studio,” he said in the car after they’d made arrangements for the couch to be delivered.
    Ginny’d been staring out the window, thinking about telling him she wanted to stop someplace for an early dinner even though she’d just blown their budget, and something in his tone of voice kept her looking through the glass instead of at his face. “I never said that.”
    â€œI thought, when we looked at the house, you said what great light that room had, how it would make a great place to paint.”
    â€œI don’t remember saying that.”
    â€œI do,” Sean said.
    Ginny looked at him. “It’s not like I couldn’t paint in a library, if I wanted to. What difference does it make what we call it? It’s got all those bookshelves, it seems like a library. There’s room for a desk in there for you, if you want to make it an office, which is what I thought you wanted it to be.”
    â€œNo. The little room is going to be the office.”
    She distinctly remembered him calling the room with the bookshelves the office. She supposed it was too late to convince him to take her out for dinner too,