“What the fuck?” Tobias’s eyes narrow like he wants to tear me a new one.
Holding my hands up, palms forward, I shake my head. “I never said any of that. For fuck’s sake. Do I strike you as a guy who likes to parade my sex life in front of the world? I didn’t even tell you about the last woman I was dating because I didn’t want to add complexity. That’s how private I am.”
“So, where the hell did the author of the article get it from?” Mark says.
“For all I know, he pulled it out of his ass. Since when do journalists care about being honest in their articles?”
“Never,” Danny grumbles. “They’re always listing me as shorter than I am.”
“Your dimensions are not our issue right now,” Tobias snaps.
“And what the fuck was Kyle doing here?”
I close my eyes and inhale deeply through my nose. “I didn’t invite him, okay? He just showed up at the front door. I didn’t want to let him in, but he told me he had something important to discuss with me, and no one else was here, so I didn’t see what the harm would be.”
Tobias’s jaw ticks, and he lowers his lids. “You let that asshole into our home.”
“I didn’t want to make a scene on the doorstep.” Even as I say the words, they sound ridiculous. Why the fuck should I care about making a scene where a man like Kyle is concerned. “He tried to tell me that Cora was lying. That she was making the whole thing up. He said that they’d danced together at the club, and he’d kissed her, and she’d responded.”
“That isn’t what Cora said,” River growls protectively.
“I know,” I tell him. “I’m not saying that I believed Kyle. I’m just recounting the conversation. When he was done trying to justify himself, I told him that if I ever saw him again, I’d break his jaw. He left five minutes later.”
“Shit,” Mark says, standing and pacing back and forth. “So Cora must have walked in at some point in that short window.”
“It doesn’t look good. I know that. Combined with the article, she must be thinking I’m a terrible person.”
“She thinks we’re all terrible people,” Danny says.
“Much of that thinking is probably based on the fact that we acted like terrible people when she moved in,” Mark says, shooting Danny an accusatory glare.
“We’re past discussing that,” he replies. “She was as guilty. We’ve gone over that.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t erase it.”
“Look,” I say, holding my hands up. “None of this is helping anybody . We need to decide what to do.”
“We go over to Maggie’s right now,” River says. “In fact, I don’t know why we’re standing here when we could be on the road and halfway to telling our girl she needs to come home.”
“You really think that will work?” I ask. “Cora’s not the kind of girl who’s going to sit down and have a conversation with us about this. Not when she feels so hurt. Everything that’s happened has just validated the way she felt about us initially.”
“So we make her,” River barks menacingly.
“We need something subtler,” Mark says, nodding at me. “We need to give her time to calm down, hear what we have to say, and then let her form her own conclusion. If she doesn’t, and we pressure her into accepting what we’re saying, we’re only going to end up back here again in the future.”
“So, what are you proposing?” Tobias asks, rubbing his chin.
“We need to speak her language,” Mark says, staring up at the ceiling as though he’s calling on the Almighty for inspiration. “The pots we made.”
“Do you have to keep bringing up that monstrosity?” Danny scowls. “I’ve buried it in the back of my closet. The only reason I didn’t toss it in the trash was that I knew Cora might want to see it at some point.”
“We need to get them out. Each of us needs to write a letter to Cora. We’ll put the letters in the pots and mail them to Maggie.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yep,” Mark says. “Trust me. Girls love big gestures.”
“I thought that big gestures were diamond rings and trips to Paris.” River rolls his eyes, and Tobias snorts with laughter.
“We’re not in some schmalzy rom-com, dude,” I say. “I think Mark is onto something.”
“And what are we supposed to write in the letter?” Danny asks. “I’m not good with words.”
“Whatever’s in your cold, dead heart,” Mark says.
“It’s not so cold and dead since Cora came into our lives.” Danny stands and makes his way to the door. “Guess I better go and find the ugliest pot ever made so it can win me back the heart of the girl I love. And if this doesn’t work…”
“What?” I ask.
“You’re going to be wearing my pot on your head.”