Chapter 23
While I rouse with a feeling of dread, there is a serene cat on the end of the comforter—one who is warming my feet—and there is also the smell of something lemony and familiar in the air.
As much as I don’t want to hop out of bed and disturb this brave cat, it’s clear that Dave is making eggs Benny, so I slip out from under the duvet, somehow without disturbing my Whiska.
After I toss on a robe, I scoot to the kitchen and ask tentatively, “You doing okay?”
Dave nods and reassures me with a genuine smile. “I am.” He sets out two plates. “I’d never talked about that day. Not with anyone. But it feels good to have gotten it out.” He serves me my beloved Benedict, along with a coffee, and then gives me a kiss. “Thank you.”
I inhale my favorite meal and also hold up my phone to record this. I mean, I have to.
Then I message Megan Madonna with my gratitude for how she is a total goddess and send her a big year-end bonus.
I also Zelle Mark some holiday money and text him with some new ideas I have. Ones he must be a part of.
Me: Get ready for a new career!
To my surprise, he writes back almost immediately.
Mark: Diana! Aww, thank you. So sweet of you to send that money. FYI, I’ve been working and got a voucher for housing. The painting gig is really cool. But your new ideas? Yeah, consider me hired.
My smiles and happiness are feeling foreign but so good, and I clap my hand on to the counter and wait for Dave’s hand to meet mine. “Hey, I’ve got a few errands to run, but can we get a Christmas tree later today? I’m sure there must be a cute place nearby.”
“There is,” he confirms.
“Back soon,” I promise.
After some research, I made a request to review a restaurant south of where I am.
I’ve backed off of doing so much recently, this restaurant is small, owned by a couple on the coast of Maine, and they’re just struggling to get noticed.
It’s a mix of cuisines, but I truly would order every dish.
Once I looked at their menu, I couldn’t say no.
Especially because I saw pictures of their staff.
I messaged with the chef/owner, Terrance, who was sweetly overwhelmed and surprised that I wanted to visit their little place, but I assured him that I was all in.
When I arrive, there are people grabbing boxes from a delivery truck, so I sit and wait and play on my phone until things calm.
Then I hear someone call out, “Billy!”
I startle and watch a young guy unload iced trays as he chats with other people on the dock. He is handsome and athletic. His brown hair blowing across his face as he works. What’s nice to see—and what’s clear, simply by the way he carries himself—is that he’s happy.
Still, I have to take a breath before I approach this young man. The person I was hoping to find.
Little Blue.
Little Blue is not a child anymore, and I smile as he steps forward, both of us a bit hesitant.
While I know who he is, he also knows who I am.
“Diana?” he confirms.
“Yes. Billy, right?” It takes a beat before I can say more.
“You got our invite to try my family’s restaurant.” He takes a beat. “But I also know you’re here for more. And I’m glad. I’ve seen your posts.” Billy gives me a look, a smile. “And who you’ve tagged.”
“It’s why you messaged me, yes?”
“For sure.” Little Blue smiles widely and then waves a hand to usher me inside. “But truthfully, the food here is really damn good.”
Thankfully, he is telling the truth because I almost cannot eat fast enough. Megan Madonna is going to have to deal with a slew of incoming videos.
Then Billy sits down at the table with me, and after an hour and his insight, I leave, but only with his tight hug.
When I’m back at my Airbnb—the one I’m hoping we’re moving on from—I find that Dave has not only packed up his stuff, but he’s also already packed my clothes and cosmetics.
“I’ll leave the cat to you, but I’ll lift his million-dollar litter box into the car when you’re ready.”
“I’m so ready.”
“Ready for a tree and me?” he asks goofily.
“Ready for both. Load ’em up!”
My pissy cat is pretty tolerant when I pick him up, stroke his head, set him into his carrier, and bring him in the car. Only a small squeal, so pretty much a victory.
“Think he’s okay for a tree stop?” Dave asks as he drives us to the main road.
“He’ll have to be. Whiska Hargitay has got to toughen up sometime.”
We land in a seriously magical field, and while I was hoping to make a quick choice, it’s about twenty minutes of me swirling around this assortment of trees.
“How high can we go? How wide?” I ask. “I don’t remember your living room, but, like, the bigger, the better, obviously.
” I spin around. “Sorry. Any size is fine, of course. I just haven’t had a tree in years.
Not on my own.” I stroll among the trees, touching my hands to the branches.
“Not since I lived with my parents. And those trees were sort of depressing. Obligatory trees with obligatory and shitty decorations.”
Dave meets me in the snow. “It’d be nice to have a beautiful tree for once, right?”
“It would. If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all. And there is room for a stupidly big tree. It’s maybe part of both of our Super Bowls.”
So, we only leave when a ginormous beast is wrapped up and strapped to the top of his car, along with a weighty stand.
It’s not an easy task to pull this monster into the house, but we manage and set it to standing. While it looks a bit awkward now, I feel sure that it’ll settle once it’s been out of the cold for a bit.
Hoping that’s the same for Whiska …
Dave guides me to a guest room and helps me set up all of his beds, and litter, and food stuff. “This is a guest room fit for a king. Not sure Top Cat needs a full bed with a handmade Afghan blanket or a chaise lounge, but I’ll bet he’ll take it.”
This cat tolerates me taking him from his case in the trunk, and he doesn’t even snarl when I carry him from the car to the bedroom. In fact, when I put him on the bed, he starts digging his paws over and over into the blanket.
Dave grabs my waist in some kind of excitement. “He’s making biscuits!”
“He’s what?”
“See how Whiska is kneading?” Dave beams. “That’s what it’s called. Making biscuits.”
My Top Cat looks up at us as he does indeed dig his paws into the blanket, then spins around to kick off with his back paws.
“He seems happy.”
It’s a suggestion that I’m not sure of, so I can only shrug.
Dave tightens his hold in affirmation. “He is happy.”
“Getting there maybe.”
Dave nuzzles his lips against my neck. “I’m glad you suggested we move here. Back to my house. I think the idea felt scary for us both. Shifting away from the familiar. From what we’d settled into.”
He’s right. But I think we are ready for this. “You’ve gotten me through so much. This is nothing in comparison.”
His tongue is super-hot and loving as he pulls my top down my shoulder and inches over my skin. “And even more, you asked for something you wanted. A big tree.”
I giggle as I spin him my way and grab his shirt. “You ready to help unload my truck full of ornaments? I had a very busy day …”