Eighteen #2
We spend the next five minutes arguing about where to put them.
Mia wants them in my room, but I don’t like the idea of being watched while I sleep.
The main living area seems too wide-open for them to adapt to all at once.
We settle on the laundry room, which is actually the coziest room in the house.
I remodeled it first, using it to teach myself drywall installation.
Mia helped me pick out curtains, which will be useful to dim the room if the kittens need rest.
“Plus,” she says, cooing over the kittens from a safe distance, “running the washer and the dryer will acclimate them to the
sounds of the house. Sera was telling me it’s good for babies to get used to a little noise.”
My head is spinning. Somehow it feels like we skipped over dating and went straight to playing house. No offense to the cat
family but I regret running away last night, and all I want is time alone with Mia. “Pretty sure cats are different than humans.”
“Both are mammals.”
“Okay, but...” I trail off, not sure of how to argue with that. “I feel like I’m in way over my head.” My parents vetoed
pets because they said running a business was hard enough without adding animals to the mix. Other than the semiferal barn
cats that had free rein of the property, I have zero experience with pets. “I don’t know how to raise one cat, let alone a
whole litter.”
“We’re not going to raise them, that’s the mama cat’s job,” she says. “We’re just babysitting.” The we part of that sentence cheers me up a little, but I’m still not loving the thought of taking care of pets on top of everything
else going on.
“Okay, but for how long?” I drop my voice to a whisper out of respect for the kittens, who’ve fallen asleep curled next to
their mother. “How soon can we put them up for adoption?” I’m pretty sure that’s one of the answers the vet covered, but I
was so overwhelmed by all the information, I can’t remember.
But Mia took notes, and the way she sticks her tongue in her cheek, avoiding my eyes, is answer enough. “About a month.”
A whole month of caring for four unexpected pets while navigating the trope tests, if we’re even doing those, and figuring out what to do about my dad’s retirement.
Overwhelmed, I sink down to the floor, my back against the washer.
Mia joins me, groaning with the effort, and I wince in secondhand pain, knowing full well how sore her muscles must be.
She leans on my shoulder for support, and the press of her fingertips reminds me of everything that happened between us last night.
By the time she’s settled against the dryer next to me, I’m buzzing with the need to pull her close, in a way I never would’ve
allowed myself to dream of until this summer. But with an entire cat family a few feet away acting as witnesses, thoughts
are about all I can hope for.
Cold air blasts from a floor vent, and I make a mental note to get a few blankets for the kittens. Do they need a bed? A litter
box is top of the list. My head begins to swim from preemptive exhaustion, and I let my eyes fall closed. Mia nudges me.
“Hey, I can help. It shouldn’t be too hard.”
I open my eyes enough to see her concerned face, surrounded by springy curls. “No way. You need to be writing.”
“What if I stayed here?”
I make a solid effort not to read into that. “Stayed over?”
“Just to help keep an eye on them while you’re at work. It might even be good for me to write in new surroundings. Getting
out of my office where I was blocked for so long might be just what I need.”
“During the day, you mean.”
“Of course. I’d never...” She looks down at her hands in her lap. “That would be presumptuous. And you’ll be here to watch
them at night. No reason for me to stay over.”
No need, but I wouldn’t say no reason. “I think we should talk about last night.”
Her brown eyes meet mine, not startled, but wary. “It’s okay. I get it.”
“Get what?”
“It was a mistake.” She looks down at her hands, clasped in her lap. “We were exhausted, and you’d bandaged me. It’s a classic
caretaking scene. Nothing more.”
“Are you trying to say we kissed because I put a Band-Aid on your blisters?”
“Well, it was more of a—” she makes a vague wrapping gesture “—bandage. Very gallant. Romance-novel worthy.”
I’m even more confused now. “And you think I kissed you because that moment was...” I search for the right word, but they
all feel wrong. “Sexy, or something? You were hurt.” Nothing sexy about seeing her in pain.
“Not sexy. Intimate. The kiss was just a result of that unexpected intimacy.” She enunciates each word, as if she’s been rehearsing.
My stomach lurches. “Do you regret it?”
“Don’t you?” She’s not looking at me, and I realize I’ve played this all wrong.
“Not at all.”
Her eyes fly to mine. “You left. I figured that meant it was a mistake.”
“No. Oh, Mia.” I shift toward her, wanting to reach out, but not sure yet. “I was just scared. We promised never to do anything
like that, and I thought I might’ve ruined everything.”
“You didn’t.” She looks over at me with those deep brown eyes. “But I don’t know where to go from here. All I know is I want
to do it again.”
Her confession unlocks everything holding me back and I lean over and kiss her, unable to resist another moment. The touch
of her lips sends tingles up my spine. This is what I’ve been searching for. I don’t have a name for it, but I’ve found it
here, with her. A loud yowl cuts through the pulse thundering in my ears and we break apart.
Mama Cat is glaring at us, tail twitching with animosity.
“She’s probably starving,” Mia says.
“Or feral.”
She laughs, which earns her a glare from Mama Cat. We’ve yet to name the kittens, but I have a feeling the mom’s nickname will stick. Letting go of my hand, Mia eases herself up off the floor.
I’m distracted by the way the fabric of her shorts clings to her legs as she stands but then it dawns on me that she’s standing
so slowly because she’s sore, and I scramble up to offer a hand. “Where are we going?”
“To get supplies.” She grins mischievously. “Looks like we’re pet parents.”
By the time we buy supplies and swing by Mia’s house for her laptop, it’s lunchtime, and I promised the crew I’d be back on-site
in the afternoon. We check in on the cats and set up their room, then I make us sandwiches while she spreads out her stuff
at the kitchen island. My phone lights up with a text and I dart a nervous glance her way when I see who it is, but she’s
busy setting her stuff up.
Joe: Sera told me her cousin is single and coming to the baby shower. Interested?
Gavin: Baby showers aren’t for hookups.
Joe: You don’t do hookups. I’m just talking about a conversation. Sera could give her your number.
Gavin: You’re doing this on purpose.
Joe: Obviously. Have you talked to Mia yet?
“Who are you texting?” Mia asks, and I slam my finger on the screen shutoff button.
“Just Joe.” I wish I could tell him what’s really going on, and that I don’t need the nudge. But what is going on?
“What did you tell him after he called during our date?” Mia’s flipping through a book on cat care that she insisted on picking up, showing every indication of being distracted, but I know better. “I thought he might sense something fishy, but Sera never brought it up.”
Probably because Joe didn’t want to tell his wife he suspects his best friend of being in love with her best friend. “He didn’t
guess it was you.”
But he wanted me to ask you out , I don’t add. Too early to talk about what we’ll tell our friends, even though I’m ready to be honest with her and them and
everyone about how I feel about her.
She seems to accept this, or maybe is too preoccupied to push the issue, and opens her laptop. I finish making lunch and set
a plate next to her, but she’s typing, fully absorbed in her work, and doesn’t notice. I can’t help pausing to admire her.
Her posture is relaxed, but her brow is furrowed, lips moving, like she’s thinking aloud, under her breath.
“You’re low-key a genius.” The thought makes its way into words. “You know that, right?”
She looks up and blinks at me from behind her glasses. “For suggesting we stop at a bookstore before the pet shop?”
I shake my head. “No, that was a waste of time,” I say, just to get a rise out of her, and she scowls adorably. She wanted
to get pet care books, but I lobbied for looking things up on the internet. The stack of books by her laptop shows who won
that argument. I bought the latest in an espionage thriller series I love, so I guess we both got a win.
“But you create stories for a living. Actual books. More than one. More than ten. That’s wild, Mia. Sometimes I forget for
a minute how amazing you are. And then you’re sitting here in my kitchen and I’m like, damn. What did I do to deserve this
woman in my life?”
“You make things grow, for one thing.” She smiles over at me.
“Not that you have to do anything to earn my friendship,” she says, and part of me latches on to that word and fantasizes about hurling it out the window, but she’s still talking, and I refocus.
“You plant living things and nurture them. You might think it’s easy, or simple or whatever, but I know better.
I’ve single-handedly been responsible for the demise of enough plants that they probably pass down myths about me to their grandchildren.
I’m an urban legend to them, whereas you’re like the plant god. ”
I can’t help laughing. “I dunno. I’ve pruned enough branches to be a vengeful deity. And what about Frank? You’ve helped him
grow.”
“Frank’s an anomaly. But I’m glad he’s still around. Glad I met you that night.” Her grin turns mischievous. “Even if it was
the start of your descent into a life of crime.”
“Rescuing your book was worth it.”
“Just a manuscript.”
“Back then. Now it’s going to be a novel and a show.”
“Maybe. Hollywood is never a sure thing, and I still have to finish the thing.” She turns back to her laptop, and I take that
as my cue to finish tending to the cats. Setting up a litter box and dealing with the disgusting slop of canned cat food wasn’t
in my plans, today or ever, but watching the mama cat take small, precise bites of food while her kittens are curled up in
the fleecy bed is kind of worth it.
When I return to the kitchen, Mia doesn’t look up. The sandwich is untouched, but I know she’ll be grateful for it later.
Not wanting to disturb her focus, I let myself out. For the first time since I moved in, I won’t be coming home to an empty
house, and the fact that it’s Mia who I’ll be coming home to makes it all the sweeter. It also makes my decision to stay or
take over for my dad even more complicated.