“She made it,” I chimed in, glowing with pride and punch, everything edged in the warm and fuzzies.Maybe I should slow down.Gingerly, I placed my glass on the table.
“Youmadeit?” Cressida asked. “I know plenty of people who would pay big bucks for something like that.”
Touching the delicate black spikes dripping from the chain at her throat, Frankie shrugged. “I haven’t made anything in a while. It’s hard without a regular workshop. I make other things too. Swords, knives. I tried an axe once but couldn’t get the blade quite right. I could really use an apprenticeship with a metalsmith.”
The other women sat forward, eyes bulging, but none more so than Cora. “Dude.You are the coolest person I’ve ever met. Please let me be your prodigy. I’m dying for my own personalized battle axe.”
“That would certainly make headlines,” Cressida said. “‘Heiress decapitates date with monogrammed designer weaponry for mansplaining bitcoin.’”
“Jokes aside,” Daphne said to Frankie, “If you ever wanted to take on any new commissions, I could connect you with some of Nolan’s associates.”
“I’m a little out of practice, but I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you,” Frankie deflected with a kind smile and a glance at me. Making fancy jewelry for rich people wasn’t Frankie’s style. She’d always harbored adream of opening her own shop where she’d use locally sourced materials to make affordable jewelry and weapons for live action role-playing groups and Renaissance fairs.
As we all drank another round of punch while a sappy Hallmark Christmas movie played in the background, I felt more at ease than I ever had. And IlikedCressida. I always had, but with this magical strawberry punch taking the edge off, I could actually see myself being friends with her, as weird as that sounded. I was still tied in knots over everything and I wanted to talk to her about it, but now wasn’t the time.
A phone ringing interrupted my thoughts.
“Anton again?” asked Cora.
Daphne shrugged but then I caught sight of Cressida. Her face had gone bone white, her phone clutched in a shaky grip as she stared at it with wide eyes. Like she didn’t even see it.
“Cress?” Daphne reached over, sliding the phone from her hand. UNKNOWN NUMBER showed on the screen and Cora sprang into action, gripping her sister’s hands in both of hers, ice-blue eyes bright as the hottest flames.
“Cressie, is it him?” Cora asked, her elegant face transforming into a dark look that held the promise of violence. “Tell me.”
Slowly, Cressida nodded.
Who’s him?
“Is this the first time he’s called?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked me where I was.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I said I was right where he left me—with his brother. Then I hung up on his ass.” A little bit of the fire returned to Cressida’s voice, her cheek dimpling as she slowly came out of her catatonic state.
“Good girl,” Cora said. Taking the phone from Daphne, Cora answered it. “Raife Keller, as I live and breathe. Why the fuck you calling? You want to talk to her so bad, you could’ve shown up when she was in the hospital—” Cressida waved her hands in an X-motion, and Cora changed course. “Hey, I’m asking the questions here, asshole. If I ever hear of you calling her again, I’ll let my friends have you. And I know you don’t want them knocking on your door. Fuck you and fuck off. Lose her number.” With a vicious jab, Cora hung up and tossed the phone on the couch.
Daphne and Frankie both looked as wide-eyed as I felt, but a mischievous grin played at Frankie’s lips. “That was badass. Can I get you on retainer for when my ex-boyfriends hit me up?”
Uneasy laughter chittered around the circle, but Cora wasn’t done, gaze fixed on her sister. “If he calls again, youtell me. My guys will take care of it. Promise?”
Her guys? What is she into?
“I’m the big sister. I can take care of myself,” Cressida said, recovering from her shell shock.
“I know.” Cora squeezed her sister’s hands. “But let me help you this time, yeah?”
After a lengthy pause, Cressida nodded. “Yeah. If we’re going to keep talking about him, then I need a shot. Anyone else?”
“We don’t have to talk about who I can only assume is Satan, but I’m definitely in for shots,” Frankie said, bustling to the kitchen to help Cressida arrange the liquor.
After a round of shots, the rest of the evening got back on track, drama forgotten. When it was well into the wee hours of the morning, we drifted off to our rooms. By the time I finished my nightly skin care routine, Frankie was already passed out in my bed. But before I could join her, Cressida called to me from the kitchen.
