“Are you…” I scoff, unable to finish that sentence from the shock and disgust pulsing through my body. “He’s left hispregnantgirlfriend? And he thinks that that will be appealing to me?”
“I mean, it’s unlikely he was sober when he told Kim this,” Nora points out.
“Oh, no doubt,” I say and shake my head as I drink more tea. “I’ll call him. I need to tell him to stop talking like that. Immediately. I wonder…”
“Yes?” Nora prompts when I trail off in thought.
“Could you also try and find out Melissa’s phone number? Perhaps it’s time she and I had a proper conversation.”
“I can do that,” she nods, and I feel something settle inside me. I don’t know why I didn’t think to reach out to Melissa directly before. What was I afraid of?
“Just a reminder, Patricia will be over later today to finalise the tour wardrobe,” Nora is saying as she taps the tip of her pen against her lips. She’s not an unattractive woman–warm olive skin, dark wavy hair and long lashes framing hazel eyes–but I find it hard to translate that into something else. I’ve found it hard to think about anybody in those terms, but Pia. Those rushed moments in my carlast weekend. Her gasps and moans. Her weight on my body. The way I didn’t wash my hands that night, licking my fingers like a cat for traces of her when I went to bed…
“One other thing.” Nora’s voice snaps me out of my memories.
“Yes?” I sit up straighter, adjusting my robe, hoping that my hard nipples aren’t too obvious.
“Did you want me to make that appointment with your lawyer? You told me to wait last week, to revisit it today, and so I was wondering where you’re at with that now?”
I take another sip of tea, checking in with myself. “Yes,” I say. “Make the appointment. And Nora?”
“Yes, Miss Cassie.” She’s writing in her Filofax, and I know the appointment will be made within the next ten minutes.
“I wonder if you could look up if there are any … doctors or therapists, I suppose, who specialise in dyslexia here in LA. Or anywhere. In any of the cities on the tour–that could work.”
“Very well. I will get a list to you by the end of the day.”
“Wonderful, thank you.” There’s a churning in my stomach that threatens to climb up my chest. I could call it anxiety, but perhaps it’s something else. Something like hope or optimism. In that moment, all I want to do is tell Pia about how brave I feel. And thank her. But that would be ridiculous.
“Oh, and these came for you,” Cassie says from somewhere behind me in the living room, which is separated from the kitchen by an archway in the same terracotta tile as the floor. Spanish Mission Revival was the term used to describe the style of my house, my littlecasita, as Nora calls it, and I love how different it is from the stuffy Victorian semi-detached house I grew up in. I love the white walls and the big windows and all the flowers that seem to bloom year-round. Speaking of flowers, when I turn towards Nora, I see her returning, carrying a large vase of baby pink single-stem roses.
“Oh, really? Who are they from?” I take the vase, but it’s heavy, so I place it on the table while I inhale the soft scent.
“I don’t know,” Nora says, her eyes back on her Filofax. “I didn’t open the envelope. Should I have?”
“No, no,” I say, retrieving it and opening it myself. “I will try and read it. They’re probably from Haven so…”
The words blur as I study the card. It’s impossible to read coherently at first, but the last letter tells me everything.
P.
They’re from Pia.
I read the note a few more times, and finally it makes sense, especially when I see the doodled roses decorating the text.
Roses for an English rose.
Congratulations on another boring number one. P
I know I’m sitting there staring at the white card like a gormless statue, mouth open and eyes unblinking. But I can’t tear my gaze away from it. I’m half-scared that if I do, it will disappear.
“Are you okay?” Nora asks from my side. I press the card to my chest, hiding Pia’s words.
“Yes, yes, from the label, like I said.”
“Would you like me to put them back in the lounge on my way to the office?”
“No, no need,” I say, and I smell the roses once more. “I’d like to keep them here with me a moment longer.”