Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
brOODING
Omar
I’m up brooding because Jules should have been home hours ago. She called me this morning—for the first time since she left on Monday morning, without waking me up—to tell me she was extending her trip for two days and wouldn’t be home until Friday.
When my phone rings at 2 a.m., I answer it without checking the caller ID. “Finally.”
“Sorry, I’ve been busy.” It’s my dad. I’m so relieved to hear from him that I forget how annoyed I’ve been that he hadn’t called me back yet, either. “Hmmm, I thought you’d be sleeping,” he muses.
“Does that mean you were hoping I wouldn’t answer?”
“No. I’m just surprised you did. Seriously, this is the first chance I’ve had to call you back because I’ve dealing with your mother’s estate probate and work, and Mimosa, and your sister. But I’ve been itching to talk to you. Thank you for apologizing. I’m sorry, too. For not being more honest with you about your mother.”
“Thank you for saying that.”
“I don’t regret it, though. And I’d do it again. She didn’t love anyone more than she loved alcohol. And I hate that she used your guilt to weasel her way back into your life.”
“No she didn’t—wait. What guilt?”
“Omar, I know you were driving that day.”
I’m stunned. “You knew? Why did you kick her out then?”
“Because she was completely at fault. You were thirteen years old, having to drive yourself home because your mother was too selfish to not get drunk after soccer practice.”
“How did you know?”
“She told me. She wanted to change her plea and tell the truth once she realized she was going to be charged with a felony DUI.”
“She did?”
“Oh yeah. Until she found out she’d be responsible either way, but with a charge of felon child endangerment thrown in. She did the right thing. And so did I when I finally cut her loose.”
I’ve misunderstood so much.
“I’m sorry. I should have said I knew, but I didn’t want to tell you why back then.”
“I thought I ruined your marriage.”
“We did that all by ourselves, son. I should have made her leave before it got to that point. But it is not your fault.”
“Thank you, Dad.”
“That’s my job. And I’m sorry.”
“What was that?” I ask in mock surprise. “Two apologies in one day? Is the world ending?”
“Don’t press your luck. Now tell me when you’re bringing this woman home to meet me. I assume she’s the reason you’re still awake.”
“In a way. She’s out of town, though. But I promise we’ll talk about it when she’s back in a couple of days.”
I promise my father I’ll plan to come home soon and say my goodbyes.
Then I call Jules, but it goes straight to voicemail, and I wish I hadn’t bothered.
The chime of my doorbell wakes me up with a start, and I grunt and feel around the bed for my phone. I peer at the grainy image of the man at my doorstep. He rings again and then knocks loudly.
I climb out of my warm bed, hurry down to the front door, and yank it open.
“If you’re a fucking reporter, you should just leave now.” I bare my teeth at the lanky man.
He takes a huge step back, his eyes go wide, and his face pales. “I’m not a reporter.” He clears his throat and attempts a smile.
I scowl and look him over. “So why are you ringing my doorbell at seven-thirty in the morning?”
“I have a special delivery for a Mr. Omar Solomon.” He’s wearing a bright blue uniform with…I lean in to read the small letters on the front breast pocket and groan.
“ Oh shit. That’s today?” I’ve been so annoyed I totally forgot Jules’ early Christmas present was arriving this morning.
“Yes. If you could just sign here?”
“Fine. Sorry I growled at you.” I sign the clipboard he thrusts at me. “Could we?—”
He holds up a finger and dashes down the walk. “One moment, please,” he calls before he disappears around the small wall that fronts my garden.
I sigh impatiently and lean against the door frame to wait. He reappears, carrying a large, gray carrying crate. “ This is the twelve-week-old kitten you adopted six weeks ago.” He holds it out to me. I just stare at it. I expected Jules to be back to take care of her. I don’t know what to do with a cat. What if I hurt it?
“Sir, are you Mr. Solomon?” He leans back to look at the house number. “Or do I have the wrong address?”
“No, sir, you’re in the right place. Can you bring her back tomorrow?”
His eyes widen slightly, and his smile falters for just a second. He pushes tiny round glasses up his nose. “Unfortunately, her spot at the kennel has already been assigned to a new animal.”
“So is that a no?”
His nose twitches like he’s going to sneeze, and sweat breaks out on his brow. “We do have a return policy. If you change your mind, you can call this number and arrange to have her re-homed.” He pulls a business card out of his pocket and hands it to me.
I’m being ridiculous and giving this man a panic attack. “No, no. I won’t change my mind. It’s fine. I’ll take her now.”
He sags and wipes his forehead. “Excellent. She’s just eaten, so you’ve got a few hours before you need to feed her again.”
He lifts the crate and hands me a duffle bag that was slung over his shoulder. “There’s enough food for today in the bag, and instruction for feeding and litter box management inside. There’s also a litter box, litter, a bowl for water, and food. I hope it’s love at first sight.” And with a tip of his bright blue cap, he hurries down the walk again.
“I doubt it,” I grumble.
There’s a small mewl from the crate at my feet, and I stoop down to pick it up.
I shut the door with my foot and carry it into the kitchen, set it down on the counter, and open the little gate in the front.
As soon as I see the tiny midnight black kitten staring up at me, I know I’m a cat person. She’s beautiful. I reach in and pull the tiny animal out of the carrier, struck by how light and small it is. There’s a note inside, and I hold the kitten to my chest with one hand and pick up the bag with my other.
It purrs, and tiny claws prick my chest when I start up the stairs to the living room. As I sit on my couch, I place the warm ball of fur on my shoulder and recreate the painting on her iPad. I snap a picture and send it to Jules with no message.
Her message comes right away. “OMG, I’ll call you in five.”
My phone rings less than two minutes later, and when I see her name on my screen, a knot I hadn’t even known was there eases. “Hey, Beat.”
“Hey, Break,” she responds in her normal, sweet way. “Whose cat did you steal to take that picture?”
“She’s yours. I adopted her before your trip was on the calendar, and they brought her to me today.”
“What! Are you serious?”
I pull the phone away from my ear at her scream and laugh when it starts asking me to accept her video call. I accept the request for video and then put the phone down on the couch.
“Why am I looking at the ceiling?” she cries.
“Hold on a second.” I position the cat so the heart on her belly is visible and turn the camera around so she’s in full view. “Voilà!”
Her mouth falls open, and she slaps a hand across it to muffle her squeal.
There’s childlike excitement on her face I’ve never seen before. “So you like her. She’s yours.”
“You are joking ! She’s mine?”
“Well, ours since I live here, too.” I turn the phone over again. “Look at that little heart on her stomach.”
“Ugh,” she groans. “That’s too much, my heart is going to explode. I can’t wait to snuggle her. What are we going to name her?”
“I don’t know. We’ll think on it when you get home.”
Her expression softens. “Thank you. I love you so much.”
The tenderness in her eyes makes me feel like the luckiest man on the planet. “I love you, too. And I fucking miss you.”
“Oh baby. I miss you, too. And I have good news. We got through the documents faster than we expected. I’m coming home tonight.”
“Great. What time?”
“I’ll text by noon to tell you the train time. But it’ll be the evening.”
“That’s great. I’ll make dinner.”
“I can’t wait to get home and eat your amazing dinner and smell you and sleep in our bed.” She closes her eyes and smiles. “Just the thought of it makes me happy.”
“Well, when you get home, I’ll make you even happier.”
“I’ll call you by noon. I can’t wait to talk.”
“Me, too. Text me your train time.”
I feel lighter than I have in days. We’re all right. The distance I perceived was my imagination. I reach down and scoop the kitten up and take a good look at her. She blinks at me, and her tiny pink tongue darts out as if to taste the air. She makes a tiny little yowl that turns into a yawn. It’s contagious, and I yawn, too.
“What am I going to call you?”
She looks at me and yawns again. And then she curls her tiny body around my hand.
My phone rings, and when I see Reece’s name on the screen, I answer.
“How’s my favorite asshole?” he says when I answer.
“Wondering why you called to ask that instead of texting.”
“Because it’s so much more fun to argue with you in real time.”
“I mean, isn’t it like 2 a.m. your time? Why are you awake?”
“I’m packing. I’ll be in London tomorrow. I’m only there for the night, and it’s last minute, but how about dinner? I want to meet the woman that’s turned you into Lord Byron.”
And the hits just keep coming.
“I’ll book a table at Anabel’s for 8 p.m. They gave me a free trial membership.”
“So you’re really thinking about staying?”
“For now, yes. But when Jules is done with all her training, I think she might be persuaded to move.”
“Long game, then?”
“Something like that.” I don’t want to get into a conversation about what my plans are when it comes to Jules or my future here. Not before I have a chance to talk to her properly, and that hasn’t presented itself in over a week. “What brings you here for the night?”
“I’m meeting Lucia in Cannes, she and her mother have been there for a week. The movie was just chosen as an official selection.”
I clap at the mention of his wife, an acclaimed writer. “Lucia Vega Carras, international superstar. Give her my congrats.”
“Will do. I’ll be at our place.”
“I thought you sold it.”
“Changed my mind, but I’ll tell you more at dinner.”
“Cool. Anabel’s is off Berkley Square. So you can walk over.”
“Great. I’ll text when I land.”
I wink at my reflection in the mirror on my way up the stairs. “You lucky son of a bitch.”