Chapter 7
The closet looked like a battlefield.
Three shirts lay rejected on the bed, two pairs of pants dangled halfway out of a drawer, and one very confused cat was currently nesting in a pile of rejected sweaters.
"This is ridiculous," I told Tofu, who blinked at me like I'd just announced I was moving us all to a different planet. "It's just a date. A very public, low-pressure date. With... Doctor Daddy."
I flopped backward onto the mattress with a groan, arms spread like I was waiting for divine intervention. "What do I even wear to impress a man who literally spends his life in scrubs and a lab coat, and still manages to look like a Hollywood star?"
Daisy whined softly from the floor, tail thumping. Murphy barked once, sharp, like he was giving me fashion advice.
"Oh, don't start," I muttered at the crazy dog while pulling myself upright. "None of you have ever tried to look sassy and classy and sexy at the same time. It's not easy!"
I rifled through my closet one more time before finally landing on the outfit that felt.
.. right. A slim-fit button-down, dark jeans that hugged in all the right places, my sharpest jacket, and.
.. because I couldn't resist... a fedora.
The hat tipped just so in the mirror made me smirk at my own reflection.
Sweet, sassy, sexy and a smidge ridiculous. Perfect.
"Okay," I told myself, straightening the brim like it was my battle armor. "You're not showing up to this thing as Nervous Jericho. You're going to be hot, confident and sassy. The Jericho who made Doctor Daddy ask you on a date."
My phone buzzed on the dresser with a message notification. My stomach flipped, half-terrified it was Colter canceling and half-hoping it was him begging me to come early.
I stared at it for a long moment, fedora still cocked on my head, heart hammering like I was about to walk into a lion's den instead of a Christmas fundraiser.
Dammit, Jericho, just check your phone.
Oh no.
Oscar.
My stomach dropped even before I opened it, and when I did, my pulse spiked hot with anger.
Oscar: You haven't made plans to fetch your stuff from my place yet. Does that mean you're finally getting rid of your pests?
Pests.
Pests!
That asshole! My babies were not pests. The dogs who curled against me when the nightmares came, and the cats who always seemed to know exactly when I was at my loneliest. They were my family. The family he never wanted to be part of.
I tipped my chin and stared at myself in the mirror, jaw tight.
"Sweet, sexy, sassy, classy." Maybe if I said it often enough it would ring true.
I would not let Oscar ruin my happy vibe. I was going on a date with Doctor Daddy, and that was something worth celebrating.
I scooped the phone off the dresser, jammed it into my pocket, and marched out of the bedroom before I did something rash. Like, throw it through the window.
My babies were waiting. They’d both grown tired of watching me get dressed and wandered to the lounge.
Murphy was sprawled on the couch, tail thumping the moment he saw me.
Daisy was curled against him, ears twitching, those big worried eyes tracking me like she thought I might disappear again.
Finch perched on the back of the armchair, while sweet, grumpy Tofu huffed at me from his spot on the cat tree.
I sank down onto the couch, and instantly had a hundred and twenty pounds of anxious dog draped across my lap.
Was she too big? Sure.
Did she, or I for that matter, care? Not a fucking chance.
I buried my face in Daisy's neck, breathing her in, and letting our cuddle do the work to soothe both our nerves.
"You're not pests," I whispered fiercely against her fur. "You're perfect."
Murphy barked once, as if to second what I'd said, then promptly tried to climb all the way on top of both of us. I groaned at him as Daisy sent a disgruntled look my way.
"Baby, you shouldn't be climbing, remember. You're gonna put your hip out again," I scolded him as I carefully lifted him and put him down in the spot next to me.
I took in my kitties and sighed in contentment. There it was. The center of my world. A ridiculous chaotic pile of fur, slobber and unconditional love.
"Okay, okay," I murmured, pressing kisses to whichever head was closest. "One last cuddle session for luck, then your boy has to go look pretty and hopefully not make a fool of himself in front of Doctor Daddy."
Murphy sneezed in response and I looked down at my shirt, realising I'd have to take a minute to put on a clean shirt.
I laughed, lightness chasing away the last bitter sting of Oscar's text.
I got up as I peeled off the now fur and snot-marked shirt and groaned. "Really, Murph? You couldn't just wish me luck like a normal dog?"
His tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth as he gave me his wonkiest, most adorable doggy grin.
"Good thing you're cute," I muttered at him as I gave him another scratch. Soon I was tugging on a fresh button-down and trying not to notice that I'd now put on the one I'd opted to discard because it was just a bit too Little with the faint pattern of bunnies on it.
Well, I was already running late. It would have to do.
And Colter already knew what I was, and was apparently okay with it.
I returned to the couch to bid the brood goodbye before checking their bowls one last time.
"Alright, team," I said, waving with exaggerated drama and adjusting my fedora like it was a crown. "Hold the fort while I'm gone. No raging house parties, keep your feet off the coffee table if you're not a feline and don't eat the damn toilet paper again, Murph."
With a last fond look at my babies, I grabbed my keys, pocket buzzing again with some notification I wasn't about to check and headed for the door. My heart was pounding, nerves fizzing, but beneath it all was something bright and reckless... and hopeful.
Doctor Daddy was waiting.