Chapter 17 #2
I meet Miles’s confused expression with one of my own. “You have babies?” he asks.
Greg looks up. “Oh! Not the human kind.” He laughs. “I just adopted two kittens.” He turns the phone around to reveal what looks like a nanny cam video of two cats in a small crib.
Daphne’s “awwww” is so long I want to smack her on the back to make sure she didn’t glitch. She reaches into her bag and pulls
out her phone. Miles, who apparently doesn’t care one bit about any of this, pops a roll into his mouth and quietly chews.
He nods and looks at me. “Whoa. That’s really good.”
“These are my babies,” Daphne says, showing a photo of her with three cats, all wrapped up around her neck like a living scarf.
Greg takes the phone and zooms in on the cats—or Daphne’s ample cleavage, I can’t be sure. “You’re a cat person too?” He hands
the phone back to her.
“Always have been!”
“They’re amazing, right?”
“I know!”
Miles and I share a look.
“Are you a cat person?” Daphne asks, looking at Miles.
“No,” he says. “I am thinking about getting a dog, though.”
“I want a dog too,” I say. “A yellow Lab maybe? They’re supposed to be such a good breed.”
Miles nods. “They are. I used to have a Lab. That’s a good pick.”
I have no idea why, but this simple exchange makes my pulse quicken.
Daphne rolls her eyes. “You two are crazy. Cats are way better.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” Greg says.
I pick up my sushi roll and take a bite. I have no idea what to expect—this is pretty far out of my comfort zone. As I put
all the ingredients together, I found myself watching Miles for which flavors would be best. The end result is a roll that’s
nearly identical to the one he’s eating.
He picks up the soy sauce and pours a little onto my plate. “Trust me.”
I take a bite, letting the flavors fill my mouth—fresh vegetables and rice and spicy tuna—and I pause for a second to enjoy it.
Miles raises his eyebrows. “Good, right?”
“So good.” My mouth is a little full when I say this, and I have to cover it to keep the food inside.
The corner of his mouth turns up in a faint smile as he takes another bite.
Daphne has angled her body—and her boobs—toward Greg. “What made you want to adopt?” She presses a hand to her chest. “There
are so many cats out there that need a good, loving home.”
“Honestly?” He inches toward her. “I saw this video on TikTok,” Greg says. “It was one of those gut-wrenching stories about
this little cat named Boots that had been found on the side of the road. Someone had just dumped her there—”
“How did they know her name was Boots if she’d been dumped there?” I ask, genuinely curious.
Miles snorts, but neither Greg nor Daphne seem to hear me.
Daphne gasps. “No. Way.” Her hand is back on her heart. “Did the video show Boots hiding in a cage until another cat went
in and got her?”
“Yes!” Greg practically shouts this.
“You aren’t going to believe this—” Daphne is clicking around on her phone.
“What?” Greg hasn’t touched his food. “You saw it too?”
She turns her phone around. “Was it this one?”
“Wait. Wait. Yes! That was it! That’s the cat!”
“This is so crazy!” Daphne clicks a few more buttons, then turns the phone around, a pouty look on her face. “That’s Boots.
She’s my cat!”
Miles catches my eye, then slowly reaches over to take a piece of Daphne’s sushi roll. I widen my eyes and shake my head no, but then he scrunches his nose and nods slowly at me. I stifle a laugh and try to look nonchalant as he lifts a piece from her plate and slowly eats it.
Neither Greg nor Daphne notice.
“I can’t believe Boots’s story actually convinced you to save two cats, Greg.” She studies him meaningfully. “That’s amazing. You are a hero.”
“Just call him ‘Feline Fury,’” Miles quips.
I almost choke on my sushi.
Daphne frowns over at him, clearly unamused, and I have to look away.
“It was a hard decision,” Greg says seriously. “But your video really painted a picture of how desperate the situation is.
Dire, really. I couldn’t not help.”
She reaches across the table and grabs Greg’s hand, leaning toward him, cavernous cleavage on full display.
He freezes, and I watch something silent pass between them.
“You know what”—Daphne pulls her hand back—“I need to run to the restroom.” She widens her eyes at Greg for a quick second,
and then she rushes off.
Miles picks up his soda and takes a drink, watching with an amused expression as Greg fumbles to put his phone back in his
pocket.
“Oh, wow, I have to take this—” Greg pulls his phone back out and stands. “I’ll be right back.”
He rushes off, and I look at Miles. “His phone didn’t even ring.”
Miles chuckles.
“Did we just get ditched?” I ask.
He looks past me, out the front window, and nods toward it, making me look.
I follow his gaze and see Greg, arm draped around Daphne, hurrying away from the restaurant.
I look at Miles. “Unbelievable.”
He shrugs and eats the last of his sushi. “Man, these are good.”
“Aren’t you annoyed?” I ask.
“Annoyed? Why?”
“Well . . . because . . .” I struggle to find a reason. It’s not like I was looking for a life partner. “They’re supposed
to like us, not each other.”
“Nah, I’m happy for them,” he says. “They seem like a good fit.”
He’s not wrong.
I’m not a cat person.
“Is this how it works for you?” I ask.
“How what works?”
“Dating with no strings, or expectations, or interest,” I say, like I’m moving pieces of a puzzle around on a table to see
what will snap in place.
Miles stops chewing, seemingly considering the question, then shrugs. “Yeah, I guess this is how it works.”
“You don’t feel rejected?”
“Rejected? Number one, she’s not my type. Number two, I’m not that deep, Claire,” he says.
“I don’t think that’s true,” I say.
His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh?”
“Nope.”
He leans forward, and my whole body is caught by his gaze.
I clear my throat. “I think you go out with these women—random people you’re not really interested in—so you aren’t stuck
at home, feeling lonely or whatever, but you do it to make sure there’s no chance you’ll ever get hurt again.”
He leans back, folding his arms. “Is that your professional opinion?”
I pop another bite of sushi into my mouth and nod. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re wrong.” He picks up his glass and takes a drink, eyes locked onto mine.
I shake my head, refusing to be the first one to look away.
He reaches for Daphne’s plate and sets it on top of his empty one. “What makes you think I’ve been hurt?”
“Haven’t you?”
He shifts, deflecting with humor. “I’m a guy, Claire. We push our feelings way down, and we don’t ever talk about them.”
“Oh, well, that’s healthy,” I quip.
He shrugs, like, Eh, it works for me.
He holds up another piece to me, offering. I tilt my head, sigh, and take it.
He then takes the last piece off of Daphne’s plate and raises it like a toast.
“To cat people.” He nods at the food in my hand with a loose grin.
At that, I smile, and we tap the last of the rolls together in a mock clink and eat at the same time.
Two things are true for me in this moment.
First, this is the best date I’ve been on so far, and it has nothing to do with my actual date.
Second, I want to know his story.
No matter how deep he’s buried it.