Page 52 of Undoing

“Oh, uh, thank you, really. I wouldn’t be the greatest company, and I have a lot of thinking to do. But, uh, could I ask a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Our puppy, Mocha, is supposed to be coming home this week, but, uh…”

“You’re not ready?” Eve guessed.

“I don’t wanna half-ass it, ya know? I love that ball of energy, but my focus is on Rebecca, and honestly, I want her to be home when Mocha comes home.” They will both come back to me, Cass vowed. If she kept saying it, maybe she would believe it.

“We can take Mocha in. I can’t promise you that Little Miss Bella won’t claim her as her own, though, and fight you for her.”

Cass chuckled. “I’d probably lose that fight. But, hey, if it’s too much, I can bring her home, Eve.”

“No, no. I have to admit, puppy-sitting sounds fun. And it’ll teach Bella a good lesson about responsibility. If she does well, maybe she’ll get a puppy of her own,” Eve smirked. “And by Bella, I mean Lainey. Ever since you and Rebecca brought Mocha over, Lainey has been hinting. But we’ve agreed we want to make sure Bella is ready, so you’re actually helping us.”

Cass knew Eve was trying to make her feel better about her decision, but she appreciated it. “Thank you. G’wan. Have a wonderful date night with your family.”

Surprising both of them, Eve leaned in and hugged Cass. “Keep showing up,” she whispered in Cass’s ear. “That’s how you won her over the first time.”

“Thanks, Eve.” Cass stepped back, giving Eve her space. “I really do appreciate you coming here to talk to me. And I know you didn’t ask, but I’ll get some canvases to you soon.”

Eve shook her head. “You don’t have to worry about that, Cass. Your prints at the gallery are doing well. And a little advice from one artist to another. Don’t try to paint if your heart isn’t in it. Art is an expression of your emotions, not a fulfillment of an obligation.”

Cass respected the advice as she knew Eve was fully aware of the difference between painting your emotions and trying to paint without purpose.

Willamena stood at the doorway watching Rebecca read. It reminded her so much of when Rebecca was younger. Reading was how Rebecca used to cope with life after her parents died. She used to tell Willamena that escaping into books helped her not be so sad all the time. As Rebecca got older, the books became less frivolous and more academic. But she always found time for a good romance.

“Can I get you anything?”

Rebecca looked up from her book. “No, I’m okay, thank you. Unless you have more books from this author.” She had been surprised, yet quite happy, to find sapphic novels on her aunt’s shelf. Particularly the spicy ones. Since she couldn’t do much else, a bit of light — or hot — reading would be a good distraction.

Willamena glanced at the title and smiled. She just so happened to have every book from Joslyn Cohan because of her niece. “I do. I know how you read, so I’ll bring a couple up for you. On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“You can’t stay up all night reading like you did when you were a teenager. You have to get your…”

“Rest,” Rebecca finished with an exaggerated eye-roll. “Yes, ma’am. Aunt Wills? How old is Cass?”

Oh boy. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just… wondering.” Of course, Rebecca wasn’t going to admit to her aunt that the book she was reading had Rebecca thinking of Cass in many different ways. And positions. So weird. Rebecca had never thought about anyone like this. Not even Samantha. Perhaps, especially not Samantha.

“Right. Does it matter how old she is?”

“That young, hmm? What was I doing with her?” Yeah, Rebecca had done the math. Adding twenty-two years to her age… “I’m old, Aunt Wills.”

“I beg your pardon! If you’re old, what does that make me?”

Rebecca smirked. “Old-er.” She stuck her tongue out at her aunt.

“Oh, that’s mature.” Willamena came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re not blind, my sweet girl. I know you’ve seen the way she looks at you. If she doesn’t care about your age, why should you?”

The way she looks at you. Rebecca felt butterflies in her stomach. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“It’s one of those things you’re just going to have to trust me on, kiddo.”

“Fine,” Rebecca sighed and held up her book, effectively changing the subject. Her aunt was far too stubborn to waste time arguing when Rebecca could be reading. “Have you read this?”

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