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“Can’t,” Cora said. “I’m at work until seven and then I’m going to some theater thing with some friends. A play, I think. You should come.”
I shifted my position on the couch and looked out the narrow windows. Nathan was out there somewhere, and I didn’t want to run the risk of bumping into him without the guys around to protect me.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said.
“That’s okay,” Cora said. “I didn’t know if it would be your thing. How’s everything in the Haus of Hotness?”
I wanted to protect Adrian’s privacy, but I didn’t see the harm in answering the question if I gave her as little information as possible.
“Well, they walk around without wearing shirts a lot...”
Cora squealed so loudly I had to pull the phone away from my ear.
“Are their bodies as hot as I think they are?”
I stared at the ceiling and pictured the three of them at the breakfast table. That morning, Jackson had dropped a blob of maple syrup on his chest and I had to stop myself from lunging forward to wipe it off with my finger.
Using Cora as a distraction wasn’t working well at all.
“Yep, but not for long if they keep eating takeaway,” I said. And then added, “That reminds me, do you have any recipes I could use?”
My offer to make dinner was a genuine one, and I felt good about it until I went back to my bedroom and remembered that Nathanhatedeverything I’d cooked. Since then, every time Xavier had asked me for a shopping list, I’d avoided giving him one.
“I don’t know,” Cora said. “What about lasagne? It seems foolproof.”
“Maybe.” I’d made one for Nathan once. He’d taken one bite, declared it to be rubbish, and threw the plate across the room. It had shattered on the wall, leaving red stains that I could never fully get out.
“My mom makes the best one I’ve ever tried,” Cora said. “I’ll ask her for the recipe and send it to you.”
I remembered that lasagne from my childhood, when a group of us went to Cora’s house for a sleepover. It was one of the best things I’d ever tasted, and I felt honored that Cora wanted to share the recipe with me.
“Okay, thanks,” I said. “I appreciate it.”
The noise around Cora grew louder.
“I’ve gotta go,” she said, and I heard her breathing heavily, like she was climbing stairs. “My break was over five minutes ago, I’m gonna get my ass kicked.”
“No worries,” I said. “See you later.”
I felt lost for a few minutes after I hung up the phone. Even though I hadn’t lived with her for long, I missed Cora terribly, and the apartment felt even more lonely than it had before I’d called her.
Maybe the guys could use some help downstairs?
I ventured down and found Adrian and Jackson tattooing clients, and Xavier on a stool behind the front counter, talking on the phone. When he hung up, I asked, “Is there anything I could help you with?”
He shook his head.
“The afternoon’s all yours. Why don’t you relax?”
I didn’t want to sound like I was ungrateful, but I couldn’t look at one more art book without going cross-eyed.
“There’s nothing to do upstairs,” I said. I’d already put the dishwasher on and washed a load of clothes, and now that I wasn’t feeling so miserable about my break-up, I didn’t want to sit around doing nothing anymore.
Xavier tapped the diary with the end of his pencil and frowned thoughtfully.
“Why don’t you call these people to confirm their appointments?” He turned the page towards me. “It’s simple — introduce yourself, say you’re from Tattoo Workz studios, and ask if they’re coming to their appointment. If they say yes, put a tick next to their name. If they say no, strike out their booking with a line. If they don’t answer, leave a message and ask them to get back to us, and don’t mark their name at all.”
I nodded.
