“Be good to Pitt and Clooney,” she calls from the bathroom.
As if on cue, the other cat gets closer and nudges my hand.
“Okay, beast,” I mumble and scratch his head. He doesn’t seem content with that, and lazily jumps down and saunters away.
I hear water flush, a faucet run, and then some buzzing noise. Is she shaving? Brushing her teeth? I smirk and stand up, because my body is filled with excess energy I need to shake.
Pitt groans and follows his brother.
Cora’s living room is small, but it doesn’t feel crammed. A pile of journals on a dresser reminds me of the sunflower one in my inner pocket.
I don’t think she would appreciate my reading it, or even knowing I opened it, so I decide to add it to the other ones.
“Don’t touch those.” Cora’s voice startles me.
I drop the notebook and pick a random photo frame beside the journals before I whip around. “Is thisyour…” I glance at the picture of young Cora with a man. “Your father?”
Thank God it’s not a picture of her cats. It would solve the question about their number, but make me scramble for a way to finish my question. And I’ve felt weirdly inadequate enough times tonight already.
She comes around the sofa and peeks at the picture.
“Yes, that’s me and my dad.” Her breath is minty… Shedidbrush her teeth. It feels like a win.
The chances are it has nothing to do with me, but I’m not going to entertain that. She’s planning to keep that mouth of hers close to me. And I don’t mind.
“How is he doing?” I put the picture back beside the others. A few more with her dad and some with her friends. There are no cat pictures, so the mystery continues.
“He’s fine. It was a misunderstanding. He deleted an app icon from his home screen.” She shrugs and points toward the sofa, moving us away from the dresser.
I can’t be sure, but there is an urgency in her seemingly subtle attempt to relocate us. Like the dresser contains secrets she needs to protect.
I plop back onto the sofa. “It must have freaked him out. It’s easy for our generation, growing upswiping and scrolling, but for him… there must be a learning curve.”
Cora’s eyes crinkle in another soft smile. She is back in the armchair. Too far from me. “Wow, I didn’t expect this.”
“What?”
“Understanding instead of mocking the situation.”
“I like to keep things light, but that doesn’t mean I’m a cynical asshole.”
That enigmatic smile lingers. It has a direct line to my insides, warming up my chest and steering things south of there.
“So just an asshole.” She tries hard not to smile fully, but she’s failing miserably. It’s nice to see her like this—like she put aside the weight she usually carries on her shoulders.
“Hey, that was uncalled for.”
She giggles. “Okay, Xander, I apologize. And thank you for thinking of me on my birthday, under strange circumstances that make me want to call the police, but… I still appreciate you coming.”
“Though it seems you were not alone after all.” My eyes beckon to the coffee table.
“Saar, Celeste, and Lily came. We couldn’t go out because of the tabloids’ hunt for Lily, but a low-key night was perfect.”
“Is that how you always celebrate? With close ones only?”
She tips her head to the side. “Who else would I celebrate with?”
“I don’t know. My birthday parties at home used to involve hundreds of guests, most of whom I didn’t know.”
