Chapter Nineteen
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Archie
Building a patio for our soon-to-be cat—a catio, if you will—goes even faster than I thought it might.
It isn’t unlike a chicken coop, which I’ve researched loads of times and even gone so far as to buy materials for, though I can never quite bring myself to actually build a chicken coop.
A chicken shouldn’t be locked up in a cage like some subpar citizen of the animal kingdom.
It should be free to peck and explore as it sees fit, like they do in Asia.
A cat, though… a cat should be contained, particularly when said cat lives in the woods, where it isn’t safe for a little creature to roam. They aren’t strong like chickens are. They need protection.
Which is precisely why I’m glad I bought the best lumber and materials money could buy for my theoretical future chickens’ theoretical future coop.
Our not-so-theoretical future kitten is going to live lavish and protected within the four hardware cloth walls of their fancy new catio.
The space connects to the house via the backdoor and eats up the entirety of the human patio—hatio?
—that was previously taking up the area.
The outdoor table and chairs that used to live here have been dragged to Stryker’s house thanks mostly to Basil, who heard my saws going and decided to check in on me.
Seeing no bloody bits and bobs lying about, he tried to sneak away.
Unfortunately for him, he’s about six-foot-thirty, and I’m not a blind man, so I saw him.
He then had the pleasure of hauling the heavy iron furniture away to make space for me to put up walls while Sarelia organized our pet store purchases inside.
Once the walls and roof were up, I vacuumed all the dust and debris left behind, pressure washed the foundation, then went in search of my darling wife.
I find her not amidst the mountain of pet supplies in the living room, nor in the kitchen with the several skyscrapers of wet food tins, nor in her room, nor in mine, nor anywhere in the top two winding layers of the house.
Worry knotting in my stomach, I make my way downstairs to check the cameras and figure out where she’s gone.
When I hit the bottom of the stairs, however, I find that I cannot check the cameras, because Sarelia is already watching them.
She giggles as she spins in my desk chair, beaming at me across the room. “These cameras are incredible,” she raves. “Do you know that you have a freckle on the back of your ear? I was able to zoom right in on it! It’s shaped like a little heart.” She grins. “So cute!”
I look behind her at the monitors where she’s pulled up feeds from all over the house, outside and in.
A stream showing the back garden where I was working holds the biggest portion of the screens, and I can follow my own path searching for her based on which feeds were brought up next on other sections of screen.
Across the room, Ted cries.
Sarelia glances at him, and her nose wrinkles. “He’s getting kind of loud.”
I hum, unconcerned about Ted’s discomfort. “You were stalking me.”
She returns her attention to me, where it should be. “Well… yes?” Her lower lip disappears between her teeth. “Is that not okay?”
I take deep, calming breaths, and count to twenty.
It does not calm me down.
“We need to go upstairs now,” I say.
Sarelia shrinks in on herself. “I’m sorry,” she replies. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I just thought…” She gestures to the screens. “I thought this was…”
“Sarelia,” I interrupt. “Upstairs.”
“I–” She gulps. “Upstairs. Right. Okay. Can I just… where upstairs? Is there a scolding room?”
Scolding…
“No,” I growl, stalking toward her. “But there are a great many rooms with a great many pieces of very comfortable furniture that are not within twenty feet of a slowly dying man, and I would much prefer to kiss you there. If you like the ambiance down here, though…”
Her eyes widen, and she jumps from the chair, sending it flying into the wall behind her. “No!” she exclaims. “We can go upstairs!”
I’ve reached her now. “Good,” I mutter, then I bend, scoop, and lift. “Hold on tight, love.”
Her arms wrap around my neck as I carry her up the stairs and to the closest room with a couch—the meeting room.
I lay her out on the green sofa and quickly follow her down, landing kisses along whatever skin I can reach as I fall.
“You’re so perfect,” I praise. “Prepping for our marriage kitten. Nosing around my home. Finding your way to Ted and not being disgusted by what I’m doing to him, but by him complaining about it.
Pilfering in my computer until you found cameras, then watching me.
” I groan against her throat. “My princess. My love. Made for me.” I kiss her jaw, then her lips.
“I love you,” I say with my words.
I love you, I say with my hands.
I love you, I say with my body.
I love you, I say with my soul.
“I love you, too,” she pants back, clinging to me so ferociously that if I had ever doubted it, I’d know myself to be wrong.
“One hour,” I mumble, threading my hands through her long, soft hair. “One hour, and then we have to decorate the catio.”
She moans what could be an agreement or could be a plea for me to shut up and keep kissing. Either way, I oblige.
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Three hours later, Sarelia and I sit disheveled on the catio floor putting together cat trees by the light of a single lantern hanging in the middle of the ceiling, out of cat-reach.
Beneath us rests a large jute rug covered in several smaller, less abrasive rugs in various shades of blue and yellow—colors we discovered in our research that cats are best able to see.
Scratching posts line most of the wooden frames of the room, and tiny hammocks hang in the corners.
Along the house wall, I’ve attached a network of shelves for our cat to climb and explore.
Two cat-proof chairs sit unassembled in boxes against the door, waiting for us to be done with the trees.
Once put together, we will have only to discard boxes and packing materials, and then our job today will be done—just in time for dinner, which Sarelia does not yet know will be specially-made bentos from Rosie.
Today has been a long, exhausting, exhilarating, splendid affair.
“I hope she likes it,” Sarelia says after tightening the last bolt on the bright blue tree she’s been putting together. She tips the tree upright, then slides it to the corner that’s been waiting for it. “And us.”
“She?” I ask, placing my tree opposite hers in the space. “You want a girl?”
She nods, cheeks blossoming sweet rose. “I do. If we find a boy we like, I won’t be upset, but I’ve been thinking of her as a girl.”
I grab the boxes holding our chairs and move them to our work space in the middle.
“I don’t have a preference,” I reply. “So long as they enjoy a little mischief. Heidi and Basil’s cat tears up their toilet paper regularly and has learned how to open their cabinets to get her treats out to gorge herself.
” I grin. “That’s the sort of cat I’d like. Intelligent and troublesome.”
Sarelia laughs. “I hope that we get one that likes to cuddle, at least sometimes. One of my neighbors growing up had a cat that you wouldn’t have even known existed if it weren’t for the food disappearing twice a day and the litter box needing to be cleaned.
His owner said he liked it that way. They co-habitated fine.
” She grimaces. “I would hate that. I want a little friend who wants me back.”
I smile gently, digging chair pieces out of a box. “You want to found family the cat.”
She shrugs. “We are found family-ing the cat by the mere process of adopting it. What I want is for the cat to found family us back.”
I pass her the directions to the chair, and she recites the first step to me. As I follow, I say, “She’ll love us. And if she doesn’t, we can resort to what Stryker did to make his crotchety cat love him.”
“What did he do?” she asks, brows raised.
I picture the huge Garfield-like cat in my mind and snort. “He bribed him with copious amounts of wet food and treats, giving him cat diabetes.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “I think we’ll keep that as a last resort.”
“Probably for the best,” I agree.
We finish putting together the chairs in peaceful silence after that, only speaking when it’s time for Sarelia to give me the next instruction.
When they’re done, we set the round, yellow chairs in the center of the rug facing the yard, then we gather up all of the boxes and packing materials scattered around the room.
I pause by the door to the house, admiring our work. “You did amazing.”
Sarelia blushes. “You did all the hard stuff. I just… bought things.”
“A lot of things,” I agree. “And before you bought all of those things, you did hours of research, made a list of only the very best things a kitten could ever want or need, then made sure that I was okay with the budget required to buy those things, going so far as to offer to pay for them yourself, despite the fact that you know I am a millionaire. All of that being the ‘easy’ stuff, I’m sure. ”
A divot appears in her cheek. “Correct,” she says. “All of that, easy. Sawing stuff and putting up walls? Not easy. I’m glad we’re in agreement.”
I stick my tongue out at her, and her eyes dip to it. She blinks one, two, three times, before her gaze lifts to mine. The very tip of her tongue sticks out between her lips, then returns to its home inside her mouth.
My head leans toward her, almost compulsively. “You’re very endearing,” I murmur.
“We can’t make out right now,” she crushes. “We have to get this trash off the catio—especially the plastic bags. We can’t risk a suffocation incident because we were too busy giving in to our base carnal urges to think responsibly.”
“If you think what we’ve done so far constitutes me giving in to my base carnal urges, then I am greatly looking forward to the day you allow me to show you what urges I truly possess.”
She stops breathing.
“Goals one to forty-one are the tip of the iceberg, my princess. I wish to take you to lands you have not thought to fantasize about.”
Her breathing restarts in shallow gasps. “I do not think I’m ready for that,” she whispers.
“I know you aren’t,” I reply. “And I’m not pushing you to be. My intentions are only to be transparent about where I am and how I feel.”
“Where are you?” she asks instantly. “And how do you feel? In very clear, very plain language.”
In very clear, very plain language, I answer, “I would like to bed you as a man would bed his wife. I would like to show you in every way how worthy you are to be savored. I grew up in a household that did not prioritize physical touch as a means of showing love, and I find that in my adulthood I crave it quite desperately—with you. And only with you. I am happy to continue as we are for as long as you wish, and I mean that sincerely. I love the space we’re in, where I’m forbidden things that I would dearly enjoy.
It will make the enjoyment all the better, and I don’t wish to rush out of this stage in our relationship.
I value you. Not just your body, but everything about you.
I do not experience less because you keep it safely yours for now.
I’m…” I pause, searching for the emotion slithering into the farthest parts of my body and making a home.
“I’m content,” I decide. “And happy. Joyous. Emotions I have never played with to this extent dance around my heart, and I’m glad for it. ”
I set my boxes down, then grab hers, neatly stacking them together before returning to gather her in my arms. “I love you, Sarelia, and I wish to show you that love.”
“I told you we couldn’t make out right now,” she breathes, blinking against a sheen of wetness gathering in her eyes.
I kiss her cheek, smiling. “I will not misbehave,” I promise.
She sniffles. “You’ve already misbehaved quite beautifully by making me into a liar. Because how could a girl possibly hear everything she’s ever wanted to hear from the mouth of the only man she’s ever wanted to hear it from and not kiss him?”
A tear falls from her eyes to meet my lips, a salty recognition of the depths of emotion she’s feeling.
“Where are you?” I ask, misbehaving perhaps a slight bit more. “And how do you feel?”
She turns her head so that our lips brush with every uttered word as she answers.
“I am so happy here with you that each second it continues I wonder if this will be the moment that I wake up and the dream ends forever. I’ve never felt so seen—so known.
Because you watched me, yes, but also because you’re intelligent enough to see further, into the broken parts of me that I didn’t understand myself.
And then you’ve loved me anyway.” Her breath shudders against mine.
“You care for me so well, Archie, and it’s barely been a few days.
I can’t begin to imagine the joy that a lifetime with you would bring, but I want it with every cell in my body.
I want you, forever, always, and completely.
And I appreciate that you are the type of man to let me have you at whatever pace I can manage.
” She pauses, hazel eyes gleaming as she gathers her courage before finishing, “I love you, my knight.”
My hand flexes against her waist, fingers digging into her. “We’re on the same page, then,” I murmur. “You and I, together, in love, and taking on forever.”
She smiles against my mouth. “You and I. Together, in love, and taking on forever,” she agrees.
Then, she kisses me.
And I misbehave quite thoroughly by kissing her back.