Page 65 of Company Ink

"Can't this wait until Friday?" I spin around and survey my house. Tissues, dirty dishes, and chocolate wrappers are on every surface. "I wasn't expecting company."

"Please, Cassandra," he says in a low tone. "It's important."

Fuck! "Fine, just give me like forty-two seconds!"

"That seems very precise."

I laugh through my anxiety. "I'm a very precise person! Stay there!"

Unwrapping myself from the plush grey blanket, I run into the living room and start tidying up at lightning speed. Loonette the Clown taught me well! I pop into my bedroom and change into a hoodie that isn't covered with stains and crumbs, pull my hair into a top bun, and pat some concealer under my eye. My reflection looks like a burning pile of trash, but it'll have to work.

Twisting the handle, I open the door. "Blake," I say in a calm and even tone. "Please come in."

Blake quirks up an eyebrow, giving my outfit a quick scan. "I must say, I much preferred the blanket-dress."

My face pales. "As I said, I wasn't expecting company," I mutter, leading him into my poorly cleaned living room.

Blake stops in front of the armchair and takes a seat. "Nice apartment," he muses, looking around. "Very...feminine."

He must be commenting on my nine throw pillows. Fuck it, bitches love pillows. Sue us.

"So... uh—why are you here?" I ask, sitting down on the couch, my hand landing on a chocolate wrapper. I shove it into the cushion. Hopefully, I remember to throw it away later. "How did you know where I lived?"

"I have everyone's addresses on file," he says matter-of-factly.

"Oh..." I nod my head. "Is this something you do? Make...house calls?"

"No, Cassie, it's not," Blake chuckles. "But I thought I'd make an exception just this once."

"I see. So... what's up?"

Blake runs a hand through his hair, taking a breath. "Well, when you didn't come in today, I thought it had something to do with our conversation yesterday. I thought that maybe you were avoiding me or something."

Fair assessment seeing as he acted like a complete psycho. "Oh..."

"The thing is—" Blake's eyes scan my face. "I owe you an apology. I—I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"Okay," I say hesitantly, crossing my legs and covering my lap with the blanket.

"You came into my office just as I was getting off the phone with one of our clients. They told me they've decided to put a pause on a project that we've been working on for over six months, and I was angry. I—"

"You yelled atmebecause you were mad atthem?" I ask slowly. "That doesn't seem very fair."

Blake sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're right, it wasn't fair. I acted...very unprofessionally and for that I'm sorry."

He seems genuinely apologetic despite his stiff posture. "You came all the way here just to say you're sorry?"

"Yes, I suppose I did." Blake shifts in his seat, placing his forearms over his knees, his eyes sunken with guilt. "Please don't quit, Cassandra."

"Quit? I'm not going to quit," I say, taken aback by his plea. "Why would I quit?"

Blake frowns. "Because I yelled at you?"

I throw my head back and laugh. "Blake, I'm a pretty emotional person. If I quit every time someone yelled at me, I wouldn't have graduated college or worked at NVP for three years."

"So, you're not upset with me?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm totally upset with you. That was a dick move but at the same time, I did sort of mess up. Kind of balances out."

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