“Thank you,” Ava mumbled, her voice not as muffled by bedsheets.
With a nod, Regan grabbed some clothes off the floor, went into the bathroom, and shut the door, leaving Ava wallowing on her bed, with no desire to move.
She felt like a wrung-out dishcloth, damp and shapeless, and she lay there, doing nothing but breathing.
And thinking.
Because that was the curse of the person whose brain never stopped, wasn’t it? Of course Regan would have everybody’s number so they could text. Ava had nobody’s number, and that had been by choice.But now she kind of wished she had at least one. Maybe Vienna’s? She seemed serious and professional, on the same page as Ava, right? And she probably still had Regan’s number in her phone from way back, unless she’d changed it.
With Regan still in the bathroom, Ava sat up and grabbed her phone. She scrolled through her contacts and there it was: Regan Callahan. And now she was curious. With a sigh, she typed out a text.
Hey, thanks for being nice to me on an epically shitty day.She followed it up with a smiling emoji. No hearts or funny faces. Just something simple. She hit send before she could talk herself out of it. She reached to set her phone on the nightstand when it buzzed in her hand.
Welcome.And the same smiling emoji.
Same number, apparently. Ava smiled and set the phone down, then pulled out her laptop just as the bathroom door opened. Regan’s face was pink and freshly scrubbed, and Ava could smell the mint of her toothpaste. She was wearing thin boxer shorts and a tank top, her nipples making it clear that there was no bra because these were her pajamas. Ava forced her eyes back to her laptop screen and tried hard to ignore the sense memory from seeing Regan’s bare breasts not once but twice.
After clearing her throat, she spoke. “Hey, what haven’t we done yet? I’m looking some stuff up so I’m ready for the rest of the week.”
“Good question,” Regan said as she tossed the clothes she’d been wearing onto the floor next to her still-open suitcase. “Let’s see.” She gazed off into the middle of the room and counted on her fingers. “We did scones.”
“Twice,” Ava pointed out.
“Twice. Right. And I still suck at them.”
“Same,” Ava said with a snort.
“We did sweet bread.”
“Not to be confused with sweetbreads.”
Regan grimaced. “Valid. We did soufflé.”
“Which I rocked.”
“You did. That was dreamy. And we did layer cake. Which we rocked.”
“True story.”
Regan squinted, then added, “And macarons.”
With a sigh, Ava said, “I wish we’d do those again. I struggled.”
“Same.”
“That leaves a lot.” Ava typed into her laptop. “There are a million cookies. We’ve done no chocolate.”
“Danishes. Muffins. Bagels.”
Ava glanced up. “Have you made bagels?”
“I have. They’re complicated, but delicious when you get ’em right.”
Ava nodded and typed some more. “Streusel. Custard. Tarts. Holy crap, there’s a ton left. I have no idea where to even start.”
“I have an idea,” Regan said as she padded in her bare feet to stand next to Ava’s bed. “What if we just watch some episodes ofWhisk Me Away?That would at least give us a refresher on Liza herself, what she likes and doesn’t, her favorite stuff. That could help.” Then she shrugged, as if trying to say it was no big deal whether Ava thought it was a good idea or a shitty one.
“I think that sounds like a fantastic idea.” And it did. Ava felt a renewed sense of energy. “Let me get comfy like you and we’ll sit and watch?”
