Chapter 27 – cat
CAT
“Careful, the glass is going to overflow!” I gasp.
Pippa ignores me, topping off my wine glass until it’s practically at the rim. “We’re killing this bottle, kitty Cat. And if I don’t pour you a full glass, you’re gonna make me finish it myself.”
“What a tragedy,” I say, rolling my eyes.
Pippa and I aren’t the only girlfriends catching up in the Copper Cup tonight. There are only a few empty tables in the café section, which is lit with small candles and twinkle lights. In the corner, a woman in a peasant blouse strums on her acoustic guitar.
Since the Copper Cup doesn’t have a liquor license, Wine Wednesdays require bringing your own bottle. They turn a profit selling pastries and books instead. Customers tend to fill up their to-be-read piles even more after a few bottles of wine—something Pippa and I have proven many times over.
Our server, a pretty brunette wearing black-rimmed glasses, walks over from the counter a few feet away.
“Two slices of apple crumble pie,” she says, setting our plates down in front of us.
“Thanks, Brinley,” Pippa says. “And oh my god, that book you recommended was so good! I’m getting the rest of the series tonight.”
“I’ll put them back behind the register for you! Let me know if I can get you anything else.”
Brinley waves and moves on to another table.
“I didn’t realize you knew her,” I say.
“Oh, I thought I mentioned! She’s Luke’s sister, actually. We’ve met at parties a few times, but I just figured out that she owned this place. Cool, huh?”
A combination of jealousy and guilt twists in my gut.
Maybe it’s weird, but I’m used to having Pippa all to myself—it makes me wonder whether one day, she might decide I’m too much trouble and replace me.
Rationally, I know that’s stupid. Pippa’s been by me through thick and thin, and she’s never done anything to make me doubt myself.
Still, I resolve to make extra time for her from now on. “I’m sorry I didn’t spend Thanksgiving with you, Pips.”
“Oh, don’t worry. You spent it with my evil stepbrother, which is more than enough punishment.”
“Ryan wasn’t so bad. The stuffing he made on the other hand…”
She gasps. “No. Tell me you didn’t eat his cooking.”
I cringe. “I almost did but James dumped it in the trash before I could.”
“See, I told you Nate wasn’t looking out for you! If he really cared about you, he wouldn’t have let you within a mile of anything Ryan made.”
Even though she’s joking, it still makes my chest twinge. I know I did the right thing breaking up with Nate, but it still hurts to think about.
“You don’t have to worry. I already cut things off with him,” I say.
Her brow furrows in confusion. “Wait, what? You were just spending the holidays with him, and now it’s over?”
“I had to. A reporter caught wind of something happening with us, and if people found out, Nate could lose his job. I’m his assistant—it looks like an abuse of power.”
She takes a sip of wine. “Is that what Nate said?”
“No, but when I broke up with him, I think he was relieved. He didn’t argue with me, anyway.” I can still see his face when I walked into his office. There was no warmth in it, just cool calculation.
“That asshole,” Pippa says fiercely.
Part of me agrees. Yet, I find myself defending him. “You don’t know how much his business means to him. He grew up knowing he would do this job. His whole life was spent preparing for it. He spends so much time in his office, he doesn’t even know where everything is in his own apartment.”
“He sounds like a workaholic to me.” She snorts.
“No argument there. But…I kind of like that about him. He cares so much about protecting people. It’s not just about the money for him. He wants to make people’s lives better. You should have seen him when my apartment got broken into. He was dying to fix everything so I could feel safe.”
She tilts her head. “That doesn’t sound like it’s about work. That sounds like he was worried about you.”
I lower my eyes. I like the idea of Nate worrying about me too much, because it lets me imagine that maybe he still cares.
No. Fantasizing isn’t going to make me move on any faster. I have to face reality.
“The point is UPS is everything to Nate. I don’t want to be part of a scandal that puts his company in danger. I’m his assistant, he’s my boss. That’s all we have room to be.”
“You could still quit,” she points out. “Then you’re not his employee anymore.”
“We still have that history. If someone wrote about it, it’d make him look bad. It’s best.”
“I’m sorry, Cat. Ugh, and you didn’t even get to find out what it was like to sleep with him.” Pippa sighs. My face heats, and I know I’m blushing tomato red. Her mouth drops open. “No. You did sleep with him?”
I nod. “On Thanksgiving night.”
“You bad girl! I hope he lived up to expectations.”
“More than that.” I sigh. “I mean, the sex was unbelievable, but he just made me feel…adored. Does that make sense?”
My phone dings, and Pippa gasps when she sees Nate’s name on the caller ID.
“See? He’s obsessed with you!”
I swipe the text open and show it to her.
Nate
I can’t track down the Edmonton fourth quarter projections. Can you resend them?
“See? He’s my boss,” I say dryly.
Brinley slides up to the table and puts our check down. “Whenever you’re ready,” she says with a smile.
Pippa's hazel eyes brighten. “Hey, Brinley, you know Nate Walsh, right?”
She cocks her head. “Yeah, he’s friends with my brother. Why?”
“My friend Cat here works for him, and I think he’s got a crush on her.”
“He does not have a crush on me!” I kick Pippa under the table. “I’m his assistant.”
“His assistant he spent Thanksgiving with. That’s crush territory. What’s your read on him, Brinley? Did he ever hit on you?”
She snorts. “No way. All those guys basically pretend I don’t exist. I’m just Luke’s little sister, and my brother still acts like I’m some snotty eight-year-old shooting spitballs at him.”
“Shoot some at my brother if you see him,” Pippa says.
“I’ll try,” Brinley says, smiling. “Look, this might be out of line to say, so tell me to shut up if you want. I barely know Nate, but I don’t trust a guy who hits on women who work for him. I’d tread carefully if I were you.”
Pippa grins, happy to have someone on her side. I, on the other hand, bristle. This woman just admitted she doesn’t even know Nate, but she’s ready to trash talk him already. Words bubble up in my head, and I’m ready to tell her where to get off with her totally unfounded advice.
The only thing that stops me is Pippa. Brinley’s her friend, and I don’t want to embarrass her. Besides, I love Wine Wednesdays. I shouldn’t piss off the person who hosts them.
“Okay,” I say tightly. I’m sure the annoyance is clear in my voice.
Brinley shifts from one foot to the other. “Sorry. Just my opinion. I’m sure you know more than me.”
“It’s fine.” I grab my wallet and pull out some cash. “Here, I got it. The pie was great, by the way.”
Brinley leaves our table, and Pippa gives me a pleading look. “I think you’ll really like her, once you know her better. She’s opinionated, but a total girls girl, you know. I always see her looking out for everyone who leaves this place Wednesday nights—just like you would.”
I access the work drive from my phone. Finding the documents Nate needs is easy, but for some reason, I can’t seem to access them. I probably have to be logged into the admin system. I type out a text to him.
Cat
I’m out with a friend right now, but I’ll send it from my laptop when I get home.
His answer comes so quickly, it’s like he’s been staring at his phone, waiting.
Nate
Do you need a ride home? I can send my driver.
Of course. Just because we’re not dating anymore, that doesn’t mean his obsession with security vanished overnight.
Cat
I’m good, don’t worry!
Dots dance across the screen for a moment before Nate’s response arrives.
Nate
You made a deal, Cat. If you’re out late, I make sure you’re driven home.
Cat
Actually, our deal was I get rides home when I’m working late, Mr. Paranoid.
Not at work.
Nate
I don’t want you walking alone. It’s not safe.
I can picture him frowning down at the phone, annoyed. Even though I normally wouldn’t spend the money on a ride, some part of me doesn’t want to disappoint him.
Cat
Fine. I’ll Uber.
Nate
Share your ride details with me.
Cat
Seriously??????
Nate
Seriously.
You should always share your ride details with someone.
I roll my eyes. If I thought he was paranoid before, this is a whole new level. But I know how stubborn Nate is, and I’m just not in the mood to argue with him tonight.
Cat
Fine.
I shove my phone in my purse, determined not to think about Nate until I leave and call a car.
Once Pippa’s back, we take our time browsing through the books.
We end up buying a book apiece—a Sally Rooney book for me, and for Pippa, a buzzy, smutty werewolf romance, and something she said was basically Dramione fanfic, whatever that is.
She reads anything and everything, bringing it all into her writing.
Just looking at her Tbr list gives me a headache.
By the time we walk outside and request our rides home, I’ve succeeded in not thinking about Nate…that much.
Pippa’s car arrives first, and she squeezes me tight. “Love you, kitty Cat. Text me when you’re home safe, okay?”
“You too.”
She climbs in her car, and I wave as it drives away. I really have to make sure I don’t miss any more Wine Wednesdays, even if it means giving up a shift. Being around Pippa is good for me—it reminds me to take care of myself, and gives me a chance to relax and have fun.
I check my Uber, but the app says it’s six minutes away. It’s said the same thing for the past few minutes, but maybe the car got stuck in traffic or something.
Then, the app updates: Ride canceled. Ugh.
I request another ride, but the app doesn’t assign me a driver. It just keeps saying “requesting your ride” over and over. I wonder if there was a major traffic accident keeping the drivers busy, or I’m just getting unlucky.
I sigh, and my breath turns into a white cloud.
It’s chillier than I thought it would be, and I haven’t bought myself a warmer coat yet.
I bounce from foot to foot, moving to keep my temperature up.
My hands would be warmer if I put them in my pockets, but I don’t want to miss it if Uber finally sends me a car.
When I hit fifteen minutes of waiting outside, I’ve had enough—I could have walked to my apartment by now. I hit cancel and shove my icy hands deep in my jacket pockets.
Much better.
As I walk toward my apartment, I wish I could put on my headphones and listen to music or a podcast or something. It’s boring having nothing to listen to, but if I’m going to ignore Nate’s request and walk home, I can at least do it as safely as possible.
I’m stopped at a crosswalk when I get a weird feeling at the back of my neck—the kind you get when someone’s watching you. I look back over my shoulder, trying to be subtle about it. There’s a guy about a half a block behind me wearing a hoodie that puts his face in shadow.
Danger, danger, my internal alarm system blares.
I ignore it. It’s cold—if I had a hood on my jacket, I’d be wearing it too. Still, I speed up my pace a bit when the walk signal comes on.
For four blocks, the guy stays behind me. I keep waiting for him to turn into a shop or cross the street, but he doesn’t. With every block, he gets a few feet closer to me. His legs are longer than mine—if he wanted to catch me, it would be all too easy.
Or maybe he just wants to hurry home where it’s warm, just like I do.
As much as I want to rationalize it away, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s up with this guy. This late on a Wednesday, the streets are practically empty. There’s nobody to stop him if he tries anything.
But in a few blocks, we’ll hit Allan Gardens. I can either go around the park, or cut through. If he really is following me, this could be my chance to shake him.
I bite my lip, considering. Nate would probably have a stroke if he knew I was considering taking the dark shortcut, but I know the paths well.
Probably better than the guy behind me. If I hurry, I can get through the trees, around the conservatory, and out the other side in no time.
If the guy does follow me, it’s dark—it’ll be easier to lose him there than out on the streets.
Fuck it. Abruptly, I turn right into the entrance. I speed walk, knowing that if I run, I might just provoke him to chase me.
I move quickly down the dark path, occasionally glancing behind me. It’s too dark for me to see if he’s still following me, so I don’t run. Not yet.
Soon, I’m out of the trees and within sight of the conservatory. When I reach the granite wall, I let out a sigh of relief. If he did chase me this far, I’m pretty sure I lost him.
“Well, well. Looks like I found a kitty Cat,” a dark voice says.
I whirl around and meet a familiar pair of blue eyes, glowing with ire. It doesn’t look like being fired has agreed with Harry. His facial hair is patchy and ungroomed, and dark shadows bloom under his eyes.
He shoves me hard against the wall, knocking the wind out of me. His hands close around my arms, squeezing so hard that I cry out in pain. That just makes him laugh.
“I think it’s time we had a little talk,” he says.