Patchworked Hearts {SAMPLE}

Chapter 15

Katrina, Helen decided, would probably never even get to be an eighth as understanding as Patterson was.

If she'd placed that opinion on someone else, she might feel a bit guilty afterwards, but—as awful as it sounded, even in her head—Katrina was well-deserving of the thought.

"Katrina," the word was encased by a weary sigh, "please, this isn't a big deal—"

"Helen." Oh, God spare me; here we go. "Losing an earring that is made of cubic zirconia isn't a big deal. Eating calamari that hasn't been cooked enough, spitting it out, and then telling the chef to fix it isn't a big deal. This is a big deal." The woman across from Helen waved her arms about, as if telling Helen to look around at an obvious problem that couldn't be missed.

Helen closed her eyes and scratched at her nose to keep from pinching it with frustration. "Alright," she breathed, opening her eyes and gazing at Katrina tiredly, "what would you like to happen here?"

Katrina, a woman who resembled a model with her olive skin, tall, lean figure, always-styled brown hair, and dark cocoa eyes, set her hands on her hips, her plump lips jutting out in a pout. "I would like you to own an apartment that actually looks decent," she replied, her tone purely matter-of-fact.

Helen actually liked the brown and cream theme of her living room, but of course Katrina wouldn't care about that sort of minor detail.

"I think I have other issues that trump the décor of my living room."

"Yes, yes," Katrina waved her off, turning instead to scrutinize the distressed cream bookshelf that held Helen's TV. "Dead sister, no family or friends, cat lady, whatever. Look at this, Helen; how old is this?"

But Helen wasn't paying any attention to Katrina's critiques—not after that low blow.

Swallowing thickly when she felt her heart speed up, Helen shuffled on her feet anxiously, wishing more than anything that Addy still lived with her. On all of Katrina's previous visits, Addy had been present and (unlike Helen) had no problem putting Katrina in her place.

Well, with her gone, Helen's inner bitch spoke up, you're going to have to take care of it yourself.

Right.

"Katrina, I don't appreciate your comments," Helen started, only for her courage to diminish when Katrina whirled to face her with feigned sadness on her features.

"I'm so sorry," goodness, but the woman's voice dripped with falseness. "I let my mouth run away from me again, Helen. Your apartment definitely needs some sprucing up," yes, the look of distaste on Katrina's face said as much, "but I realize you have other issues you have yet to get past."

Okay, still a blow, but not as bad as before.

Gulping down an "Addy Response" ("At least I'm not running around trying to get STDs in exchange for money!"), Helen nodded jerkily. "That's right," the word was choked out between gritted teeth. "Thanks for understanding. It's late, and I have to get to bed; the couch is all set up." She gestured vaguely at the couch behind them, and then stumbled towards her bedroom, where Ginger was already curled up on the bed.

Dropping down next to her cat and rubbing her hands over her face, Helen released a long stream of exhausted air. Katrina had only arrived an hour ago, and Helen was past ready for her cousin to leave.

Ginger, she knew, wanted the woman out of the apartment just as badly (if not more). Katrina had stepped inside the apartment, spotted Ginger, and said, "Her fur would look excellent as a scarf."