Chapter Eleven
Basil is acting weird, and I don’t know why.
I gnaw at my lip as I sit on the couch, waiting for him to return from the mysterious errand he left for over an hour ago.
We started the day normal enough, getting ready and migrating downstairs, where Baz made breakfast for us while I made progress in my current read – who knew a book about a nightmare man could be so freaking sweet?
After we had breakfast, Baz declared he would “be back,” then refused to answer any questions about where he was going – or let me go with him – only nudging me to the couch, tucking me under a throw blanket, and handing me my book.He kissed my forehead, and then he was off for parts unknown.
I have not gotten any further in my book since he’s been gone. I have, however, successfully bitten off an entire layer of my lips and a good portion of my inner cheek.
Bazzy isn’t talkative by any means, but he never goes anywhere without letting me know where he’ll be, and he’s never not let me join him on an escapade before.
Is he upset with me? Was my weirdness yesterday a little too weird? Does he want space but doesn’t know how to tell me?
I know I can be a little overbearing sometimes. A little too much . A little annoying. A little more than any reasonable person would want to handle or even have to be around all the time. It’s probably a miracle he’s lasted this long.
Another layer of my lips disappears.
They’re bleeding in two different spots by the time he finally walks through the door.
I jump up from the couch, rushing to him as he pauses in the entryway. I open my mouth to interrogate him about where he’s been, but it snaps closed when I notice the pet carrier in his hands.
Did he…
“Is that a puppy?” I ask, curious and maybe a wee bit excited. He shakes his head as the faintest, cutest little meow sounds from the carrier.
Oh. My. Gosh.
“You got the kitten?” I yell, leaping the last of the distance between us. “Bazzy, you stink! I wanted to help with that!”
I make a grab for the kitty prison, but he swoops it up out of the way.
“Hey!” I yell, jumping for it. “Come on! I want to see them before they go live with Stryker and Millie, and I only have visitation rights!”
Baz’s hand lands on my forehead, pushing me back and holding me away. I run in place for several embarrassing moments, trying to get closer before giving up and choosing a new strategy – pouting.
“Baaaaaz,” I whine. “Why can’t I see the marriage kitty?”
My bottom lip juts out as far as I can get it, the raw skin smarting against the stretch.
“You’re not going to show me before taking it to Stryker? What, you don’t love me anymore? You don’t want me to be happy?”
When in doubt, guilt, whine, and pout.
“Baby, give me a second,” he says. I do, mostly because him calling me “baby” has short-circuited my body and brain. I couldn’t disobey even if I wanted to.
Satisfied that I’m listening, he takes his coat off, transferring the kitten from hand to hand as he does. It meows, pulling me out of my “baby” induced stupor, and I reach for it again.
“Wait,” Baz scolds, shaking his head. “So impatient.”
I’d be offended if it weren’t for the trace of amusement coating his words.
“You’d be impatient too if a big, strong man was gatekeeping cuteness from you!”
His head shakes again as he toes off his boots. I watch, foot tapping and mouth blabbing.
“You know I’m not cut out for this type of torture, Bazzy. I beg of you, hurry up . I cannot be expected to stand here for aaaaages while you take all the time in the wor–”
I’m cut off when he moves toward me, bends, hooks an arm around me – the one not holding the cat, thankfully – and throws me over his shoulder.
“Baz!” I wheeze.
He remains silent, moving us around the couch and across the living room. He stops in front of the Christmas tree and sets me down close to him, mere inches separating us. My head dips, and my eyes lock on the carrier in his hand. I reach for it, but it moves away from me. Again.
I stomp my foot.
His hand grabs my chin, forcing my head up to look at him.
“First,” he starts, and I frown.
First? How many things is he going to make me listen to before I can have a dose of little kitty cuteness?
“She’s a girl,” he continues, then his eyes narrow, challenging me. To what, I have no idea.
“Okay…” I say. “She’s a girl. Got it. Can I see her now?”
“Second,” he goes on. I groan. He squeezes my chin, demanding my focus. Begrudgingly, I give it to him.
“She’s not for Stryker.”
I tilt my head in his grip. Not for Stryker?
“But Stryker needs a cat,” I remind him. “So he can have a real marriage with Millie. That’s, like… the whole point?”
I thought I explained it pretty well… and he’s read the book, so…
“Did you not understand?” I ask. “Did we do a miscommunication again?”
“I understood,” he confirms. “But Stryker can get his own marriage kitten. This one’s mine.”
My heart stops beating.
“Yours?” I breathe.
He hums an affirmation.
“Mine, like I hope you’ll be.”
Shaking? I’m not shaking. You’re shaking.
“Heidi,” he starts, then pauses for so long that I’m not sure if he’s planning to continue.
He gazes into my eyes, the lights from the tree reflecting a rainbow of stars down at me. For probably the first time in my life, I am at a loss for words to fill the silence gathering between us.
A soft meow does the job for me.
Baz starts at the sound, eyes darting down to the carrier he still holds.
“Oh! Right.” He lifts the carrier up, unlatching the door and reaching inside to bring out what is absolutely the most adorable creature I have ever beheld.
She’s tiny, just barely taking up the palm of Bazzy’s hand. Her black-and-white head pops up over his fingers to look at me, and it’s all I can do not to scoop her up and eat her.
She has a mustache . A beautiful, adorable, perfect little white mustache resting under her shiny black nose. Yellow-green eyes watch me with curiosity.
I am mesmerized.
Basil clears his throat, regaining my attention. It is almost physically painful to take my eyes off of the tiny ball of fluff in his hands, but I manage, meeting his eyes with wonder.
“Heidi,” he starts again. “You must know that you mean the world to me. You are the most precious being in my life. I could not begin my days without you, and I refuse to end any more not in your presence. I lie awake at night thinking of the distance between us – a distance much too far for me to bear any longer. I have contented myself for years with the bits of you that you have been willing to give to me. I have fought with myself often, telling myself to not be selfish, to respect you, that you would let me know if you wanted more, but now, my ability to be selfless has met its limit.”
He reaches for my hand, lifting it and placing the kitten gently in my grasp.
“Accept her as a token of my love for you – a love of friendship and a love so much deeper than mere friendship could ever cover. I am deeply in love with you, Heidi – my Heidi. So sweet. So lovely.”
He lifts a finger to my cheekbone, tracing the path of it down to my jaw.
“Please, tell me that you love me too. If there is even the possibility that you could come to love me in the way that I do you, tell me now, so that we can end the torture that every night apart from you brings. Marry me, Heidi. The kitten – she’s yours. Yours to name. Yours to keep. A representation of my heart.”
He drops to a knee before me, pleading eyes staring up into my own.
“I am yours. Whatever you choose, Dee, whether it’s yes or whether it’s no, I need you to know that no matter what, I am yours. Always.”
My chest vibrates with the beating of my heart. The soft fur of my kitten pricks my skin. I open my mouth. Close it. Open. Close.
What does one say to all of that?
What does one say when they’ve just been given everything they have ever wanted?
“Her name is Frank, and she’s sleeping in the bed with us.”
Baz bursts up from the floor, and Frank is crushed between us when he wraps his arms around me, enveloping us in a hug so crushing, I worry she won’t survive it.
“Frank!” I squeal. Baz lets us go immediately, moving his hands to my face.
“That’s a yes?” he asks. His eyes glisten with wetness gathering on his lashes. My nose stings.
“That’s a yes.” My words come out watery. “Of course it’s a yes.”
I take in a shuddery breath.
“I love you, Basil. I never thought– I never imagined you would ever love me back. Not in the same way. I thought we’d just go on forever being best friends. And I would have, you know? I would have done anything to stay close by your side forever. I’m– I can’t tell you– I’m just– I’m speechless, Bazzy. Me . Speechless .”
I shake my head, bewildered, and my laugh is wet. I sniff, making a loud supremely unattractive sound.
Baz’s face closes in on mine, and I squawk.
“No!” I yell. “No kisses when I’m crying! Let me wash my face!”
I rip free from his hands and run upstairs, tucking Frank close to my side as I bound up the steps.
Our first one hundred percent kiss is not going to have any percent chance of crying yuckiness interfering. Not if I have anything to say about it.
Baz’s footsteps pound behind me, following my path up the stairs.
“I’m serious!” I cry out. “One second!”
I make it to the bathroom door just as he crests the stairs. I squeal and slam it shut, twisting the lock right as he reaches it. The door shakes as he slams into it.
“Heidi!” he calls through the door. “You have thirty seconds! Then I’m coming in.”
The lock jiggles, and I figure that Baz’s thirty seconds is not the same as my thirty seconds.
I move quickly, setting Frank in the bathtub where she can’t cause any trouble, and turn to the sink.
I barely have time to douse my face in cold water before I’m being grabbed from behind and spun.
Lips are on mine – one hundred percent! – and I’m backed up against the sink. Baz’s large body presses over me – into me.
My eyes fall shut. His hands find their way into my hair while mine land on his strong, broad shoulders, then wind around his neck.
His lips are firm against mine, then soft. Pressing in, pulling back. Chasing and retreating. Over and over and over again until I can’t breathe or think or–
He pulls back, and I groan, following him, begging for his lips to come back to mine.
“Breathe, baby,” he rumbles, accent thick.
I groan again. I don’t want to breathe. I want to kiss.
He chuckles, then pecks my nose. I tilt my head up.
Not there, silly boy, here .
He does not oblige.
“Breathe,” he repeats. I try to open my eyes to glare at him but find that my eyelids don’t quite agree with that course of action. They refuse to do more than lazily sprawl over my eyeballs, giving me naught but slits to see through.
I suppose, in the absence of a good glare, I could try doing what Bazzy says. Maybe if I obey, he will give me a treat.
More kisses in mind, I inhale. Exhale. Do it again.
See me, Baz? I am breathing. I deserve much goodness, yes?
Through my lower lids, I watch him take his own breaths, hot chocolate eyes locked on my lips. I smile.
Yes, yes. Look at my lips. Don’t you want to kiss them?
I lean forward, and my heart races when he does too. His arms encircle me, closing the space he’d created between us. Our faces inch closer. My air becomes his air, my breaths his breaths. His lips ghost against mine, and then–
“Meow!”
I jerk back, my head whipping to check on Frank. That was not a good meow.
I find her tangled in the shower curtain, her tiny mustached face peeking out from a cut she appears to have fashioned for herself in the fabric.
“Frank!” I exclaim, untangling myself from Baz. “Oh, you poor thing! Here, Mommy will help you!”
We spend several minutes working her free. It takes Baz retrieving a knife and cutting through the curtain to finally liberate her completely, but soon enough, she is safely cocooned in my arms.
“I’ve got you,” I coo. “You’re safe now, sweet babe. Nothing will hurt you.”
Baz’s finger reaches in to give her a head scratch. She closes her eyes, purring at the touch. I understand the urge; I, too, could purr at Baz’s touch.
“Sleepover time,” he murmurs in my ear. I grin.
Sleepover time.
This night and every night, forever and ever.
Merry Christmas to me.