Chapter Fifty-One Grant
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Grant
IN SILENCE, WE WATCH Hannah walk to her porch, turn to wave, and disappear inside the kind of suburban cookie-cutter home I would never have pictured for her.
Once she’s in, I look at Rae. “Where to next?”
“Um. Got to backtrack. I’ll get my car.”
“You seem tired, Rae. Let me take you home. Please.”
“You’re right,” she says, literally yawning to prove my point. “I’m in Byrd Park.”
“Wow. Swank.”
“Meh. You’ll see.”
“Not so swank?” I set off toward the ritzy Richmond neighborhood.
“It’s smaaah.” The word turns into another yawn, which in turn makes me yawn, and we both laugh, and then the silence is this soft, golden glow around us, part awkward and part easy.
“Pepe’s gonna be so mad I was out late.”
I go instantly taut. “Who?”
“My cat.”
Muscles loosen. “Ah, the angry Frenchman.”
“What?”
“You mentioned a Halloween costume. The first time we met.”
A giggle bursts out of her. “Oh, right. Forgot I told you about that.”
“You end up picking one?”
“No.” She throws me a look. “Been a little busy.”
After a few minutes, she guides me down a dark street. “This is it.” She points at a big Victorian, possibly painted blue, although it’s hard to tell in the dark.
“Nice.”
“Not really. I live in back.”
“Back?”
“Want to come see it?”
I really do. I want to fall into her world, arms wide open.
Which is precisely why I say, “Better not.”
Then a car drives slowly by, and no part of me is okay with her heading into that dark yard on her own. “I’ll walk you, though.”
“I’m fine.” She opens the door and turns back to say, “Good night,” before setting off across the grass.
I can’t let her leave like this.
“Wait. Hold up.”
She doesn’t stop walking. I hit the lock button and run after her.
“What? I’m fine,” she stage-whispers, hurrying even faster. “I do this all the time.”
“Walk in the total dark to get home?”
“Not usually at two in the morning, but yes.”
She ignores my muttered Jesus and plows on. There’s a path, I think, under the unmown grass, which is wet and damn cold.
Her poor feet must be frozen in those pointy shoes. I can’t stand the idea.
“You need lights back here.”
“Tell that to my landlord.” She tromps straight back to a small, cinder-block cube. Possibly a garage. It starts to rain, and it is cold.
“You live here?”
“Yes. Anyway. Thank you for taking me home. And for my sister. And for…” It’s sprinkling heavily. “You can go, Grant. Don’t stay out in the rain.”
“I’ll wait.”
She shoves her key in her lock and pushes the door open. It’s pitch-black inside.
“Might as well come in for a minute.”
I step through the door and look around while she turns on lamps of all colors, shapes, and sizes, lighting up what is literally the smallest place I’ve ever seen.
There’s room for one person to walk between living room furniture, kitchen counter, bed, and a little workbench, covered in tiny objects.
“This is a garage.”
“It’s my home.”
“It is a shoebox.”
“If you came here to insult me, you can—”
“No. No, sorry. It’s…” I take in details I hadn’t initially noticed—paintings on the walls and swaths of cloth covering the ceiling. Bright, chaotic colors everywhere, and at my feet, a fluffy white cat. “It’s cozy.”
She fills an electric kettle and sets it on to boil. “Close the door, please.”
Does she mean with me inside or out? Where do I want to be? In or out?
The cat rubs and rubs against my legs.
“He’ll make a run for it if you don’t close it.”
I reach out and shut the door before wandering over to look at her tiny creations. “These are amazing. What did your sister call them?”
“Book nooks.”
“What do you do with them?”
“Make them. And I guess now I’m starting to sell them.”
“Really? This is so cool. What’s this one?”
“It’s a workshop.”
“Like your workbench.”
“I call it my Barbie Dream Workshop. All the shelving. All the space.”
“This is so… you.”
“Thank you.”
“Dream workshop, huh?”
“In an ideal world.”
“What about this one?”
“That’s the set of Into the Woods.”
“Ah.”
“You even know what that is?”
“A musical?”
“Good guess.”
“You’re into musicals.”
She snorts. “Into them is minimizing the way my family relates to Broadway shows. But yes.”
“You sing?”
“Never, if I can help it.”
Smiling, I bend and pet the animal. It’s so soft.
It bumps my hand when I start to back away, so I scratch it behind the ear, and then its front paws cling to my legs, so I bend and pick it up.
I stroke the cat’s chin, and it pushes back.
Moving on to the ears, I marvel at the deep, calming vibrations from its body.
I look up from the warm, furry armful, faced with an irritable Rae, hair down now, arms akimbo.
“Are you kidding me?”
Both Pepe and I stare at her. “You want me to go?”
“No!” Sighing, she folds her arms and looks us over. “It’s just… This never happens.”
“Sorry. Should I put him down or…?”
“Not now, you can’t. You’d better sit.”
I look around and opt to sink into the big armchair.
Pepe snuggles deep, filling the cracks of my lap like warm liquid.
“He’s never done that with anyone but me. He hates all people.”
“Really.” A deep scratch behind the ear makes the cat’s green eyes disappear under heavy lids. “Huh.”
“Do you even like cats?”
“No.” He squirms and rolls and finally settles with his face in the palm of my hand. “I don’t know, actually.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
I watch, mesmerized, as she pulls her dress up and off, hangs it carefully on a hanger, and puts that on a hook by the door.
The place is cluttered but really neat. Everything seems to have a spot.
Pepe pushes his face harder into my hand, and I rub the side of his neck. “Never had a cat.”
“Any pets?”
“No. I moved too much.” And I really don’t want to talk about it. “Can I get up?”
“With a cat in your lap? Never.”
I look down at the creature who has literally taken over my entire body. “I can just… push him off.”
“Against the rules.”
“What rules?”
“Cat rules.”
“Cat rules?”
“Yep. Cat rules are not the same as human rules. For example: cat on lap? Can’t move. You are out of play for the foreseeable future.”
“That’s ridiculous. What if you have a job to go to?”
“Call in sick.”
I snort. “What are other cat rules?”
“Are you allergic?”
I shake my head.
“A cat will always go to the allergic person in the room. Cat rule.”
“What else?” I ask, my voice as light as I can make it while watching this beautiful woman wipe makeup from her face, each swipe revealing glowing skin, covered in more freckles than I’d even guessed at. “More ridiculous rules?”
She yawns and the sound sends a shower of sparks down my spine, and I’ve got no idea why that would happen. There’s nothing sexy about a yawn. Except with Rae… there kind of is.
“Hey, I’m not the one who makes the rules.” She walks over to the boiling kettle, grabs a teapot, and fills it. “I just enforce them.”
“Tell me about tonight.”
“You mean the Paint and Sip Orgasmathon.”
I grin. “Yes. I want details.”
“Give me a sec, and I’ll tell you all about it.” She disappears again into the bathroom.
I shut my heavy eyes for just a few seconds and settle deeper into the very comfortable armchair, hands sinking into soft, warm fur. I smile at how cute Rae is. Laugh at how she manages to twirl between her bed and her kitchen in such a small space. Feels so good here. With her…
Something wakes me up with a start.
Oh shit. My neck hurts. What the hell?
Groggy, I look around, taking in unfamiliar shapes.
A pair of tiny bright slits reflects the dim light coming in from the only window in the place.
Cat.
Chair.
Smells like chocolate and spice and… Rae.
Slowly, quietly, I push myself up to standing, stiff in all the worst places.
Over on the bed, there’s a shape that has to be Rae. The cat is somewhere around her head region. I shove back the urge to go over and make sure he’s not cutting off her air supply. He lives here, for fuck’s sake. She’d push him if she had to.
As quietly as I can, I check my pocket for keys and sidle over to the door.
It’s got a handle lock, which is good, since I can shut it on my way out, but really not okay for a woman living alone in a glorified shed.
Every cell in my body wants to stay. To slide into the bed beside her. Or just sit here until the sun’s fully up, guarding her while she sleeps.
Which is exactly why I have to go.
I cannot for one second explain, however, why I stop at a gas station on the way home and buy cat food for the Devil Cat that’s been shitting in my shoes.
Except that Rae made me do it.