He swallowed, his voice buried by heavy emotions. “Today must be really hard for you.” Hoping he wasn’t overstepping, he placed a gentle hand between her shoulders, trying to lend some sort of comfort.
Her head lowered as she sniffed. “They cancelled the parade.”
Was that a thing? Most adults couldn’t care less if the parade took place. “I think it’s just postponed. They’re having it in April.”
“That’s too late. It was supposed to be today.”
He didn’t understand the significance of the parade but understood it meant something to her. “The Irish dancers are performing here at four. They’re usually on a float in the parade.”
She laughed with little humor. “Thanks, but I can’t go back down there.”
“I understand. There’s a back door.” He pointed to the door that led to the exterior steps of the apartment.
“Thank God.”
She chugged the whiskey in her glass and stood with reinforced courage, as if the sight of an exit—or the whiskey—strengthened her. Watching her collect herself was like watching a mask slide into place.
He stood as well. “You don’t have to rush out of here. If you need more time or want more Tully…” He held out the bottle, knowing he sounded desperate, but this was the most she’d talked to him, and she was upset. “I can give you a ride home.”
She shook her head. “Thanks, but you’ve already done enough.”
Was it riding in cars as well as driving? Probably. He was an idiot. He shouldn’t have offered to take her home. He always said the wrong thing whenever he was around a beautiful woman.
She’s a widow, you selfish prick. Have some respect.
An awkward silence cocooned them as the space seemed to shrink around them. The air smelled like paint thinner and Kelly’s art supplies.
He tried to distract himself, but all he could think was how young and delicate she looked. Too young to be a widow. He frowned at the dark smudges under her eyes, noting that her hair seemed extra wavy today.
“Your hair’s pretty like that.” He winced at his stupid comment. Just once he’d like to have a quarter of the smoothness his cousins did with women. “Sorry. That was a dumb thing to say. You’re pretty every day. But today you look … different.”
Please stop talking.
“I probably look like a raccoon from crying.” She wiped at the black smudges under her eyes. “I never wear makeup anymore. I don’t know why I put it on today.”
“You don’t need it.”
She blinked up at him with big eyes. “Thanks. That’s sweet.”
God, she was beautiful. A short little thing. The top of her head barely passed his chest. And now he was staring.
She wrung her hands and took a step back. “I should go.”
He didn’t want her to leave, but he had to get back downstairs. His family was probably waiting for him and wondering where the hell he went to get the napkins. “Yeah. I gotta get back to work.”
“Thanks for rescuing me.”
He smiled. “Any time. The mayor actually keeps a giant spotlight on hand for emergencies just like this. Sort of like the bat signal but it’s a shamrock. If another situation arises…” He gave up while he was ahead.
She snorted and it was the cutest sound he’d ever heard.
Maybe he wasn’t botching this. “So, if you’re ever in a pinch, just flash a light—”
Her face paled. “About the other night…”
So close. He was actually growing accustomed to the taste of his foot lodged in his mouth. “You don’t need to explain—”
“I sort of do. You thought something was wrong, and you came to check on me.”
“I shouldn’t have intruded. It’s none of my business what you were doing.” Or why the lights flickered on and off at strange hours of the night.
She chewed on her lip and glanced away, her freckled cheeks turning a dusky shade of rose. “If the lights are out, I can pretend he’s there.”
And there went his heart. Jesus. Of all the excuses he imagined for her little light show, he hadn’t imagined anything quite so damn heartbreaking.
“I don’t know what to say to that,” he rasped.
She shrugged. “I’m probably ten different kinds of crazy at this point, but I thought you should know, because you’ll probably see my lights flickering again. I try not to, but…” She shrugged again. “Sometimes I…”
He leaned in, waiting for her to finish the sentence.
“Never mind.” She drew in a wobbly breath. He wished she’d let him drive her home. She still seemed shaken.
Today was probably an incredibly difficult day for her. He found it fascinating that she’d push herself to go out. “You can talk to me, Maggie. If you need someone to vent to… I’d never judge you.”
She scoffed. “Everyone judges me. I’m that poor O’Malley widow.”
It probably felt that way to her, but she’d have to actually exist for people to form an opinion. After Nash passed away, she sort of went off the grid. “So, show them you’re more than that.”