Chapter 30 – cat
CAT
Yellow leaves rustle in the breeze overhead.
It’s a crisp, beautiful fall day, and luckily my light jacket is just the right temperature.
I’ve got a day off from the shelter, since a big group of Girl Guides volunteered to serve lunch.
I’m walking to meet Pippa for lunch at the Copper Cup, and normally, I’d be thrilled.
Now, I can’t stop looking over my shoulder.
I told Nate I didn’t want to press charges against Harry, and I meant it. No matter what he did to me, I don’t want to feel like I’ve ruined someone’s life. Besides Nate had UPS look into Harry’s location, and we know he went to stay with his brother in Winnipeg. He’s not even here to follow me.
Still…it’s hard to shake the feeling. I need a distraction, and thankfully, a text from Nate arrives, giving me exactly what I needed.
Nate
I tried the pistachio croissant from Ariel’s Bakery. Just as good as you said it was.
The text comes with a selfie of Nate, holding up a little bag from my favorite bakery. His gray eyes are warm, but his mouth is barely lifted at the corners into a smile. It makes me laugh.
Cat
You look awfully grumpy for someone who just had the best croissant in the whole city.
Nate
Second best. You haven’t tried Roberta’s yet.
I’ll bring some in on Monday.
I’m grinning so widely, my cheeks hurt. As if I needed another reason to look forward to Monday.
Nate and I have been texting nonstop for days.
It started with me thanking him for the adorable pink champagne glasses he sent me, then turned into a discussion of our favorite foods and drinks.
Soon, we were swapping our favorite restaurants and bakeries.
Nate’s are way more expensive than mine, obviously, but he doesn’t mind being teased about it.
We’ve traded favorite movies and animals (Amélie and red pandas for me, the Lord of the Rings trilogy and puffins for him.) Now, I know so much more about him. He’s much chattier over text than he is in person, and I’m starting to understand that it’s easier for him to open up this way.
Or maybe he’s just too distracted when we’re together in person.
We’ve only seen each other in the office, but every moment together feels electric. He seems to look for opportunities to put his hand on my back to guide me into his office. The heat of his hand through my clothes is enough to make me combust.
And I know I purposefully brush my fingers against his when I give him a coffee or a file folder. I love the way it makes his gray eyes glow with desire. These small touches in plain sight of our coworkers are almost sexier than a full-on makeout session in a supply closet.
Not that I’d say no to that if Nate offered…
Each day my resolve to keep my distance from him weakens, and soon I know it’ll fade entirely if I’m not careful.
I sigh loudly. I can’t stop thinking about him. If this is what addiction feels like, no wonder it’s so hard to get clean.
When I get to the Copper Cup, Pippa’s not there yet, but the place is so full of customers stopping by between shopping trips that I grab the first spare table I can see. It’s against the back wall, under a large abstract painting.
Brinley catches my eye from across the room and waves. She’s busy at a table full of chattering women, so I wave my hand to tell her I’m good to wait.
My eyes are drawn back to the painting, tracing its dark textured lines.
The paint doesn’t look like any I’ve ever seen, all rough and shimmery.
I don’t know why, but there’s something so fairy-tale-esque about it, but in a dark way that reminds me of the original Grimm’s stories.
It’s like the longer I look at it, the more it unfolds.
Shapes turn into open doors, swirling lines turn into labyrinths.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to see in it, but I know I can’t look away.
Pippa slides into the seat across from me, distracting me from my thoughts. Her hazel eyes are shining with excitement. “Guess what!” she exclaims before she’s even taken off her coat.
“You’re pregnant,” I deadpan and she snorts.
“Please. But actually, I do have a new baby.”
She shows me her phone, with a lockscreen of an adorable black cat. “Awwww! It’s so cute! What’s its name?”
“This is Waffle,” Pippa says proudly. She opens the phone and scrolls through even more cat pics.
“She’s a stray who’s been hanging around outside.
I’ve been feeding her tuna and trying to catch her, and I finally wrestled her into a carrier.
The vet says she doesn’t have a microchip, so she’s mine. ”
“She’s adorable, but does your apartment let you have pets?”
Pippa makes a shushing noise. “No, but she’s quiet. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”
Brinley moves next to our table and hands us menus. “Hey! Sorry for the wait, we’re super busy.”
“No worries, we’re glad business is booming,” Pippa says. “I’ll do a chai latte, please.”
“And for you?” Brinley smiles at me.
Whoops. I should have looked at the menu instead of staring at the painting for so long. “Tea sounds good. Do you have any recommendations?”
“You can never go wrong with peppermint,” she says. “And I’ve got some fresh shortbread that tastes great with it.”
“Sounds great, thanks.” I shoot her a genuine smile. I feel bad that I was so short with her the first time we met. She didn’t really say anything that bad, and it’s not her fault I was feeling defensive.
When Brinley walks away, Pippa raises her brows at me. “Since when do you not know exactly what you want to order? You’re always opening the menu the second you sit down.”
“I’ve been a little distracted.”
“By Nate?”
I can feel my face heating. “I really like him. We’ve been texting all the time—he even texts me good morning every day.”
Pippa gives me a knowing look. “That sounds like a relationship.”
“I don’t know about a relationship. We’re supposed to be cooling things off, not learning each others’ bucket lists.”
“Awe, that’s sort of cute. I didn’t think he had any aspirations outside of world domination.”
I snort. “The things is…I might actually be falling for him.”
Pippa squeaks, pressing her lips closed to hold the sound in but it does nothing to hide the shock on her face as she puts prayer hands in front of her lips. “Like, the big L word, falling?”
I bite my lip and she squeals again. “Are we happy about this?”
“I think so.”
“Then I’m happy for you, kitty Cat. But I’ll still fuck him up if he hurts you.”
I laugh. “That was never in doubt.”
Pippa’s phone pings, and she glances down at it. Her smile vanishes, and she looks back at it in horror.
I frown. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” she says quickly. “Just turned on my notifications for a stupid blog. Nothing you’d care about.”
She won’t meet my eyes, and she’s clearly skimming through the text onscreen. Pippa’s always been a terrible liar, but this is one of her worst attempts.
“Show me, Pippa,” I demand, my teeth gritted.
She sighs. “I guess you’ll see it eventually.”
She hands me her phone, and I instantly wish I were just looking at more pictures of Waffle.
Instead, it’s a blog post from the Toronto Tea with Nate’s official headshot from the UPS website on one side and an old picture of me that I don’t recognize. It must have been cropped from a friend’s social media post. The headline reads, “UPS Billionaire Promotes Assistant to New Girlfriend.”
My stomach turns. This is everything I was afraid would happen. I take a deep breath and steel myself to keep reading.
Nepo baby CEO Nathaniel Walsh let his eyes wander over to the secretarial pool, starting a relationship with his direct report, Caitlin Daniels. Rumors have been circulating about the pair for weeks, with one employee telling us their relationship may have begun before she was hired.
The employees we’ve spoken to describe Daniels as competent, professional, and friendly. Walsh, on the other hand, has been characterized as cold, controlling, ruthless, and obsessed with the bottom line. In other words, completely capable of manipulating Daniels to ignore her own best interests.
“The power dynamics in this kind of situation are extreme,” says Nancy Rothman, a psychologist specializing in abusive relationships.
“Everyone in Nathaniel Walsh’s circle will be expected to give him whatever he wants.
Any lower-level employee would know that her job depends on pleasing him, and she might feel she has no choice if he makes advances on her. ”
We’ve been told that Walsh brought Daniels on a so-called business trip to New York City, where she stayed in his suite, though her presence wasn’t required.
Reportedly, the deal that was supposed to be signed on the trip fell through after inappropriate comments were made about Daniels during a meeting.
What was said and who said it remains unknown.
Walsh and Daniels have been seen together outside of the office, and he’s reportedly introduced her to his infamous friends—poker champion Ryan Archer, Sequel CEO James Keller, restaurateur Beau Bishop, and Twisted Devil owner Luke Windsor.
Already, there are hundreds of likes and comments on the post. The top ones only make me feel more nauseous.
Welp, we knew all billionaires were predators. Textbook harassment.
Does she have anyone looking out for her? The power imbalance here is insane.
He’s obviously a controlling piece of trash. He’s probably been grooming her for a long time.
Poor girl, she has no idea that he’s taking advantage of her.
I frown. “These commenters are nuts. They’re acting like Nate manipulated me into dating him, and I’m some helpless girl who didn’t know better. He’s not like that at all.”
“He’s not?” Pippa repeats uneasily. I glare at her.
“He’s not. Everything that’s happened between us was because I wanted it to. I would quit before I’d let someone bully me into a relationship, and you know that.”
She puts her hands up. “Fine. You’re right. Sorry, it’s just hard to turn off the protective friend mode when suddenly, your business is all over the internet.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. Because I doubt the Toronto Tea is the only place writing about us. I google my own name—which I’ve never done before. The results are horrifying.
As bad as the Toronto Tea post was, these are worse. Headlines call me a golddigger and an opportunist, even saying I manipulated Nate. I feel untethered from reality. A few weeks ago, nobody cared who I was. Suddenly, I’m all over the news, famous for all the wrong reasons.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Pippa springs out of her seat and wraps her arms around me. “You didn’t do anything wrong. If you say Nate didn’t either, then I believe you. These people don’t know you, and they don’t get to judge you.”
“You’re right. I don’t know why I even care,” I mutter against her shoulder.
“Anyone would feel weird if a bunch of strangers were posting about them, kitty Cat. You’re totally normal, and handling this way better than I would, for the record.”
Just then, Brinley comes over with our drinks and a plate of cookies. She frowns when she sees us hugging. “Everything okay?”
“It will be,” Pippa says, giving me a final squeeze. “Especially now that there’s shortbread, huh?”
I shoot her a silent thank you. Brinley seems nice enough, but I don’t feel like explaining the whole blog situation to her right now.
My phone vibrates on the table, and I see Nate’s name on top. My stomach dips—first with excited anticipation, then with fear. I doubt he’s calling to ask me about my favorite donuts. He must have seen the blog post.
“I’m gonna take this outside,” I tell Pippa, showing her Nate’s caller ID. “Don’t need anyone listening in.”
“Go,” she says, taking one of my cookies and nibbling on it.
Outside, it’s still crisp and sunny. Two kids soar by, racing each other on their bicycles. An older woman in a green wool coat walks her beautiful Golden Retriever, who sniffs a pile of leaves. It feels wrong to be so upset on a day like today.
I pick up the phone. “Hi, Nate.”
“Hi, Kitten.” Hearing the name, I smile despite myself. “I wanted to check your schedule for the next few days.”
“I’m working at Terrace tonight and for brunch tomorrow, and work with you during the week, obviously. Why?”
“Could you get someone to cover your Terrace shifts from tomorrow till Wednesday? I’ve got a meeting in Paris, and I need you there with me.”
“Paris?” I squeak.
I can hear the smile in his voice. “I thought you’d be excited. I know my preferences about where I stay in Paris so I’ll handle booking everything myself. So, can you make it?”
But…I’m not excited. I’m being offered my dream trip, so I should be screaming for joy right now. The blog post has just left a bad taste in my mouth. I hate that the Toronto Tea badmouthed Nate, and everyone else wrote judgmental stuff about me.
Would Nate even invite me on this trip if he knew? Will he still want me there if I tell him?
“Of course, I’d love to go, Nate. Trading my shifts won’t be a problem. But maybe you should check the Toronto Tea before you buy my ticket.”
The other end of the line is silent, and I pray I haven’t ruined the trip, or this nascent thing building between Nate and me.
“I’ll read it, but don’t worry about anything they say,” he says eventually. “I’ll handle it. Once we’re in Paris, it won’t matter.”