Chapter 21 Winston
WINSTON
The ocean roars in the distance, gulls cry overhead, and the sand beneath my paws is warm. Humans gather in rows of white chairs, all fussing and smiling as if they’ve never seen two people tie themselves together before.
But here we are: Holly in a flowing gown that shimmers in the Malibu sun, and Scott in a suit that makes him look halfway respectable. She glows. He beams. They’re getting married, and somehow, I guess I approve.
Duchess and I lead the procession down the aisle as the bridal march plays, tails high, kittens tumbling after us with matching ribbons on their collars. The crowd gasps and coos like we’re the real stars of the show—which, of course, we are.
I glance over at Scott as he slips the ring onto Holly’s finger, his voice steady as he vows forever. My Holly deserves this happiness. And though I’d never admit it aloud, the brute has proven himself worthy.
Still, I get the last laugh. Because when the applause dies down and the reception ends and we head back home, who’s the one still scooping litter boxes for five cats now? Not me.
A new scoreboard reads clear as day in my head: Cats 5, Scott and Holly, 2.