Page 33 of Playboy’s Purgatory

“Good,” she throws the words over her shoulder, her voice is breezy, “sanitoriums really aren’t what they used to be.” She adds, muttering, “Damn shame really.”

The moment the door closes behind her, Opal’s first giggle breaks through. “She’s a force,” her words are filled with amusement.

“Yeah, tornado level,” I murmur. My eyes widen when I realize what I said and quickly add, “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“She’d be thrilled,” Opal crows. Then she wiggles her eyebrows and glances at the letter meaningfully. “What else did it say?”

“He’s offered to tattoo me. Any size, design, and wherever?” It comes out more of a question because I’m still a little amazed at the offer.

Maybe I shouldn’t be.

It would be like me saying sorry with baked goods.

“Do you want a tattoo?” Opal’s eyes light up. “Do you have any tattoos?”

“I do have one,” I admit. “But it’s small. I’ve always wanted another one, but it was an expense I couldn’t talk myself into.”

“Then why aren’t you jumping on this?” She looks at me like I’ve lost the plot.

I get why she’s asking. It would seem like a damn good opportunity.

“I don’t want to accept this and then he thinks I have to forgive him or something,” I try to explain. “There’s not even anything to forgive. Like I said, we can just ignore the whole thing and move on. You know, let it go?”

“Lara,” there’s laughter in her voice, “that man is not going to let it go. So, what if you allow him to do this and he still can’t make it up to you?”

“He doesn’t have anything to make up,” my tone is exasperated. “He can just stop being a dickhead, it would be enough,” the words come out mulish.

“Yeah,” she looks at me with something close to pity, “after talking to him, it’s obvious that is not going to be enough for him. Just prepare yourself.”

“Prepare myself?” I sound affronted. And rightly so. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means the man has always been creative and a little out there. I doubt he’ll leave it at a tattoo if you agree. If you don’t agree, he definitely won’t let it be.” Opal is enjoying this way too much.

She’s practically giddy.

“That doesn’t make me feel better about any of this,” I grumble.

“It really wasn’t meant to.” She makes a face at me that tells me she isn’t sorry in the least. “Look,” she tries another angle, “at worst you’ll get a tattoo. At best you’ll get a tattoo and find out that Playboy isn’t as much of an asshole as he previously was to you.”

I doubt it.

But I don’t say that.

Instead, I sigh, “I’ll think about it.”

Opal looks pleased with herself. She also looks ridiculous because she’s still wearing the angel wings. Before I can remind her about them, the door swings open and Vanessa freezes with the door wide open. Her mouth falls open and then she lets out a squeal as she rushes toward Opal.

“Are you Cupid?” Vanessa gushes the question.

“I am,” Opal answers with a decisive nod. She glances at me like I shouldn’t have asked because it was clearly obvious.

It never was.

“I get why you didn’t wear a diaper, but I am a little disappointed,” Vanessa comments while sliding around the counter and hugging me.

My fingers brush through her hair and I soak it up just for a moment. “How was school?” I ask the question automatically while reaching for the bag with her cookie.

She chirps, “It was good. You know how it is.”