5. Nadia
5
NADIA
T he clock over the register reads ten. It’s been a fast and furious morning prepping at the deli. Max took Camryn for a doctor’s appointment, and I’m waiting on him to get back.
I need to leave the moment he arrives. Dalton will get off shift any minute, and I have to arrive at the apartment before he does.
“You got the cups?” Geneva asks, towering over me as I pull stacks from the stock below the soda fountain.
“I’m on it.”
“Thanks.” She heads to the kitchen.
I stand up to refill the cup rack.
Thank goodness Dalton works marathon shifts. When I got home from signing the lease and realized I didn’t have his number, I knew I needed to catch him before he got to the studio for the first time.
I have to tell him about Cattarina the Great, also known as Catzilla.
It will take some doing to explain why I didn’t disclose her existence to the manager. And also cross my fingers that he’s not allergic.
Because Max’s wife Camryn is definitely allergic. Big time. She’s been miserable since I moved in.
Catzilla sheds everywhere, and even though I keep her to my room, her hair has infiltrated every space in their cute house. Poor Camryn isn’t allowed to take most allergy meds while she’s pregnant, so she’s had perpetually teary eyes and a red nose since I arrived a few weeks ago.
I was afraid if I told Dalton about her before signing the lease, he’d back out. I needed to plead her case away from the manager.
She’s a total sweetheart and never causes any trouble or damage.
He’ll love her. I know it.
The door jingles. I turn to see Max stride in.
Thank goodness.
“How’s Max Junior?” I ask.
“He’s a she!” he says.
I stand up. “Max! That’s terrific!” I wrap my arms around his brawny frame. He’s massive thanks to his bodybuilding hobby.
“Yeah, a little girl.” He seems dazed.
“I can’t wait to meet her,” I say. “Did the appointment go well?”
“Sure, perfect. We had a sonogram.” He flicks his phone to show a grainy black-and-white image.
I can’t decipher any of it, but I say, “Beautiful! And Catzilla is out of the house, so she can breathe again!”
Max nods, pocketing his phone. “You sure you’ll be all right living alone?”
I slug his arm, swallowing the lie. Max definitely can’t know I’m rooming with a strange man. “Of course. I’m a big girl.”
Vera comes out from behind the register. “Did I hear you’re having a girl?”
“I am!”
Vera squeals, drawing several employees out of the kitchen. While they congratulate him, I untie my green and white apron and fold it. “Max, I have to run to the apartment. There are still some things to do.”
“Go on. We’ve got this.” He smiles over the handshakes and back slaps of his crew. I hurry to the back to grab my purse and dart out to my car.
I’ll make sure Catzilla is happy and brushed. I’ll clean out her litter box where it’s hiding in a dark space under the bar. We’ll both look adorable and charming, and surely Dalton won’t make a fuss about her.
Maybe he’s a cat lover?
I race the three miles to the new apartment, practicing my speech to the windshield. “Catzilla is the easiest pet imaginable. She can’t meow due to a bronchial infection she had when she was rescued. So she won’t make any noise!”
Of course, she’s also gigantic. Maine Coons are big cats, and Catzilla is a stellar example of the breed. She looks more like a bobcat than a pet.
It will be okay. We’ll be ready to woo Dalton.
But when I pull into our section of the complex, I suck in a breath. Dalton’s red Jeep is already in a slot. He got off early!
Oh, no. No, no!
I kill the car, pausing to rearrange my entire plea. “Dalton, she’s my baby. I know you’ll love her. Give her a chance.”
We should have exchanged numbers. But we couldn’t exactly do that in front of the apartment manager either. He thinks we’re a couple!
What a terrible web of lies we’re already trapped in!
As I walk to the door, I imagine the scenarios inside.
Maybe he’s had a chance to adjust to Catzilla.
Maybe they’re already in love!
It’s also possible he hasn’t seen her yet. Catzilla is extremely skittish with anyone but me, so if someone enters the room, she hides until she’s comfortable.
Maybe she’s been under the bed the whole time.
I draw in a steadying breath, then unlock the door.
It’s dark inside, the blackout curtains drawn and the lights out. My rectangle of sunlight hits the floor in front of the sofa, and … what is that?
A head. Dalton’s head is on the floor.
I rush inside. Is he okay?
He lies on his side on the beige carpet, his head resting on one arm. He’s not in scrubs this time but baggy shorts and a blue T-shirt.
I drop to my knees next to him. “Dalton?” I shake his shoulder.
For a moment, he doesn’t respond, and my heart lurches. “Dalton?” I say more urgently.
He rubs his eyes. “What’s going on?”
Now I’m mad. I slug his shoulder. “What are you doing on the floor? I thought you were unconscious!”
“I was. What time is it?”
“Ten-fifteen. I thought I would beat you home.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be working at the deli?”
I stand up so that I tower over him. “I came to talk to you.”
“About that?” He thumbs behind him, and in the shadowy gloom of the bed, I spot Catzilla on the pillow. She’s pretending to be asleep, but I know better.
The jig is up. I close the front door and turn on the light.
Now Catzilla lifts her head. She opens her mouth, but of course there’s no sound. It’s a little eerie when she does that, but I’m used to it.
“Is that a Transformers bedspread?” I ask, turning back to Dalton.
He yawns. “Yes. And your cat, or whatever that thing is, took it from me. Have I only been asleep for thirty minutes?”
“I thought you wouldn’t be here until eleven at the earliest.”
“They turned us loose.” He rubs his head, making his hair stand up. “I only have twelve hours off, though. I need to go back to sleep.”
“On the Transformers bedspread?”
“Optimus Prime makes a good bedfellow.” He lifts himself up onto the sofa. “I guess I could have tried to make this work.” He lies down, his head on the armrest. He doesn’t come close to fitting, his knees drawn up so his feet don’t hang off. “Nope, that sucks.” He sits up again.
I lift Catzilla off the bed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Cattarina the Great ahead of time. I planned to tell you on the way to the car, but then you got caught up in a conversation with Evan.”
“Cattarina? That’s what you call her?”
“Catzilla for short.”
“What is she?”
“A Maine Coon. She’s big, I know, but she’s very sweet and she can’t meow. She’s very neat?—”
He waves me off. “It’s fine.”
“Fine? Really?” Could it be that easy?
“Sure.”
I carry Cattarina over to the sofa and sit down. “Cat, this is Dalton. Don’t be scared. He’s very nice.”
Cattarina is not convinced. She hunches down like she might leap off my lap at any moment.
I hold her firmly. “He’s okay, Cattarina.”
Slowly, she settles on my lap, her gold eyes fixed on Dalton.
He reaches out to pet her, but she springs unexpectedly from my lap, clears half the studio in the process, and skitters beneath the bed.
That didn’t go well.
“She’ll mostly hide,” I say. “She’s no trouble.”
“It’s fine. Look, I’m going to steal the bed while the stealing’s good.” He heads across the room to collapse on the Transformers. “I have another long shift tonight and tomorrow, then twenty-four off. We can talk then.”
“Should we share contact information? That way I’ll know your schedule and when not to wake you.”
He reaches for his phone on the floor beside the bed. He unlocks it and tosses it across the room.
That’s risky. I’m not athletic in the least. I fumble to catch it, but miss, of course. It bounces on the soft carpet.
I type my number into it and send myself a message so I get his.
By the time I’ve done that, he’s asleep again. He was exhausted.
I tiptoe over to set the phone on the floor by the bed.
At least he knows about the kitty now.
I straighten, looking down on Dalton’s form spread across the bed. He’s muscular and tan, his hair flopping on his forehead.
I get the crazy urge to fix it, but I resist.
Roommates aren’t for touching, even if they are cool with your secret oversized cat.
But the fact that I even thought about reaching for him is already worrisome.