Mary knew him well. Better than he liked, probably. She knew so much about him. From the way his hand only gave about 24 hours notice before it started acting up to his guilty pleasure favorite movies. She didn't want to pry, but she knew those eyes. Haunted, some would say. But that was all right. Long ago she'd known she couldn't compete with the ghost of Sherlock Holmes. So she didn't try. Instead she'd accepted him as a sometimes unwelcome and sometimes not third wheel in her relationship. It was support John needed, not criticism.
"I know I didn't need to, John. I wanted to. It isn't much, just something I thought you might need." Without asking, she poured him a cup of tea from the kettle on the stove and prepared it exactly as he took it. Cream, no sugar. "I'm sorry I don't have cake. I do have some of the cookies I made for Bo left, if you'd be up for birthday cookies instead?"
She leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping her own tea and watching him. He'd never know how beautiful he was to her. Or how badly it broke her heart that he still mostly looked at her and saw a stranger. But she'd fix it. Given a bit of time, he'd see her as her and not the strange woman who'd somehow come into his life.