20. Dalton
20
DALTON
I wake up to a tickle on my cheek.
Must be one of the cats.
It’s dim, but I can tell from the light leaking below the blackout curtains that it’s morning. I’ll have to go to work soon.
I reach out to figure out which cat is in my face, but I touch a face instead.
Nadia?
I reach behind me to adjust the curtain enough that a crack of light comes through.
Yeah, it’s her. The cats are in between us, surrounded by the circle made by Nadia’s body and mine.
The cats are all asleep. Cattarina, who was against my belly last I checked, has moved up against Nadia. Mama Cat is curled against me.
The four kittens are in the middle.
When did Nadia get in bed?
And how am I going to get out?
I lie there a while longer, taking in the situation. It’s nice. The whole mixed-up family, all together in one bed.
I remember our conversation over apple pie, before the cats arrived. Both of us felt a spark. She wanted to know what it meant.
It’s grown. I can feel it. Can she feel it, too? It’s a glow, maybe even a flame.
And she’s right here in bed with me.
Of course, so are the cats.
She must have been too tired to blow up the mattress. I peer beyond her to the floor. No, it’s there, her blue ruffled comforter on top.
Huh. Now I’m really curious.
My side of the bed is against the wall, the window directly above. I can wriggle to the end of it, where there is a small amount of space before you get to the dresser.
But the moment I start moving downward, I realize I’m trapped beneath the sheet. The cats are lying on it, and so is Nadia.
I glance at the clock. An hour until my shift starts. Not much time to dally.
I reach behind me to find the edge of the sheet. I need to pull it off me, get my legs out, and then I can scoot down the bed.
But the minute I tug on it, Mama Cat stirs. And once she moves, the kittens squirm toward her. I can’t let them nurse long. We need to supplement until Mama is better.
I lift the first kitten to take her away to feed her and try to inch my way off the bed using my elbows.
But now more kittens are up, and the mewling begins.
Too late.
Nadia stirs. “Hey,” she says.
I pause in my reverse Army crawl off the bed. “Hey.”
“Sorry if I crowded you,” she says. “The kittens kept squirming off the bed and almost falling. I moved them all to the crate after I fed them, but Cattarina brought them back up here. It was a losing battle.” She yawns into her hand.
“Yeah, I gave up, too. So you came up here to keep them from falling off?”
She nods. “I wasn’t getting any sleep on the air mattress, worried about them.”
“I’m glad you came up here.”
Her gaze meets mine. We lock for a second, the intimacy of the moment like a ribbon winding around us.
Yeah, something is definitely happening.
“Dalton?”
Is she going to admit it, too?
My throat is thick as I say, “Yeah?”
“Do you think we’ll have to keep sleeping like this?” She scrunches her nose like it’s not a good idea.
Disappointment washes over me. “Maybe we could roll up a blanket to keep them from wriggling off.”
But her frown deepens. Did I read this wrong? Does she want to be in the bed with all of us?
“If we have to do it like this, it’s fine by me,” she says.
So she does.
Our gazes clash again. Something’s happening here. The air is charged. I’m too far away to lean in, trapped by the sheet and besides, there’s a whole litter between us.
But she watches me, and it happens again, her gaze dropping to my lips.
This is going to happen.
I’m going to make it happen.
She breaks the spell by pushing the sheet away. “I’m going to take off today since we’ll both be gone. Mondays are slow anyway. Is this a twelve or twenty-hour shift for you?”
It’s like the moment never happened.
“Twelve,” I say.
“So we’ll both be back here tonight.”
“Sounds like it.” What is she suggesting?
“I guess we’ll all sleep together again.”
My throat tightens. Nadia and me. In the bed. On purpose.
“I don’t think it will be too long that we have to fight this,” she says. “The kittens will get strong enough to climb down without getting hurt.”
“They will.”
She slides backward off the bed. “I’ll get started feeding them.”
I watch her walk through the semi-dark to the kitchen to warm the formula. She moves with grace, even at this early hour, her legs pale beneath pajama shorts. The top hugs her chest, and my body starts reacting.
Down, boy.
Good thing we have a whole bevy of felines in between us. Because in this cozy half-dark room after sleeping in the same bed, she is too temptingly close to resist.
Fitz and Harrington wait for me when I arrive in the locker room. Fitz wears a surgery cap over her springy curls, and I’m immediately jealous. She got a plum job to start off, clearly.
Harrington tugs off his Mr. Rogers-styled cardigan and holds it in front of his chest.
“What?” I ask as I open my locker.
“We need an update about the roommate,” Fitz says. “Now that you’re co-parenting.”
“How’s all the pussy action?” Harrington asks, but with no swagger, and a giggle at the end that makes him seem like a teen boy.
I drag my lanyard with my ID over my head. “Kittens are healthy. Mama cat is stable.”
Fitz leans against my locker. “You know what we mean. Is it getting cozy now that you have a whole family?” Her grin is so wide that dimples are revealed. She reminds me of Geena Davis in Thelma and Louise , my mom’s favorite movie.
“It’s different,” I say, slamming my locker and heading for coffee before I have to check in.
Fitz follows me and Harrington hurriedly shoves his cardigan in his locker so he can catch up.
“What do you mean, different?” Fitz asks as we dodge a rolling gurney pushed by two orderlies.
“She slept on the bed last night,” I say.
“With you?” Fitz’s mouth forms an “O” of surprise.
“And all the cats.” We reach the coffee cart, and I pay for a drip with a shot of espresso. The woman knows my usual order and hands me the cup.
The others wait, already holding their first round of caffeine. It’s how we start all our morning shifts.
“So no love connection,” Harrington says.
I turn and head for the ER. “Nope. So what’s with the surgical gear?” I ask Fitz.
This gets her going. As we walk the halls, she regales us with every detail of how our attending is allowing her to assist on a surgery for a case she had last shift.
“Lucky,” Harrington says as we approach Booker, who is waiting to give us assignments.
Fitz peels off to head for surgery.
“And I guess we’re covering for her,” Harrington says.
“Some people have all the fun,” I say, ready for Booker’s scowl and the first cases of the day.
“Your fun happens at home,” Harrington says.
Booker turns to us. “You’re late. Harrington, to orthopedics.” She glares at me a moment, peering at my face. “Murphy, wipe that smile off your face. There’s a man with swollen testicles with your name on it.”
“On it.” But even as I head to the curtained ER, none of them can really bring me down.
I am smiling.
And I’m definitely looking forward to tonight.