Chapter 20
James
Ihead down the street toward the apartment with only one thought on my mind: I’ve spent all day trying to work with the two guys who messed up the software, and now it’s late, and I just want to get home to Sadie.
We manhandled two large cases of books and clothes back from her mom’s place yesterday, down the stairs and onto the subway, and through most of it I was really regretting not hiring a van.
I wasn’t shocked at where Sadie grew up; I’m more impressed by how she’s pulled herself up by her bootstraps.
The flashing glimpses of her life: school, her stepdad, that walk from the station to her home.
It makes my skin crawl that she did that in the dark on her own.
But my blood turned hot when her mom mentioned her stepdad touching her, and when I quizzed Sadie about it on the way back, she said that he’d touched her just one time and that was why she had to move out.
She said she wasn’t pressing charges because she was scared he’d take it out on her mom.
Then she chewed on a nail and stared down the train and sank in on herself, so I stopped pushing, even though my whole body felt like it was on fire.
Sadie’s mom was sweet. When we left, she hugged me and thanked me for taking on someone who struggled all through school when she was growing up.
She said that few businesses were prepared to do that these days, and she and Sadie were very grateful for it.
I told her that her daughter was an excellent programmer.
I don’t think she quite understands that Sadie could get a job anywhere.
When I walk through the door, Sadie is standing at the stove, frowning. When I peer over her shoulder, she’s made the recipe I showed her the first night in the apartment, and I give her a tired grin. Mr. Karen is sitting on the countertop watching the pan like a hawk.
“That cat is a liability,” I say.
His tail twitches and catches on the burner, and Sadie squeaks, leaning over to flick it out of the way, but Mr. Karen shoots about six feet in the air, streaking off the counter and landing on the floor with a thump, furiously licking at his fur.
I squat down to check whether he’s done himself any damage.
“I think he skipped kitten school,” Sadie says, and I grin as I peer up at her. This is the third time he’s burned his tail on the stove.
“Instead of just being generally stupid, you mean? I can see why he was at the shelter for so long.”
She leans down and puts her hand over his kitty ears and makes a face at me. “Don’t hurt his feelings.”
“Oh, and saying he missed kitten school isn’t hurting his feelings?”
There is no doubt that Mr. Karen isn’t the brightest crayon in the box.
It’s not just the tail burning. He has questionable spatial awareness and no sense of what can support his weight.
The other day, he tried to jump onto a lampshade that wouldn’t hold him.
He’s scorched his paw on a pan he tapped.
Don’t ask me why we’re letting him sit on the countertop, except that if he’s not up here when we’re cooking, he paces about yowling like some danger is going to land on him from whatever is happening above his head.
We learned in the first couple of days that he’d shut up if he could keep an eye on what we were doing, as if he didn’t like surprises.
I have an alarming amount of sympathy for this mindset.
At first, I thought he might have a problem with his eyesight, but he had no trouble chasing the laser pen I ordered from .
He likes sitting on high surfaces: the countertop in the kitchen, the tops of cupboards, and, in the bathroom, the sink, where he likes to watch me shave.
We’ve also quickly realized he’ll do anything for a cat treat.
They must put some powerful stuff in those things.
Sadie taps the wooden spoon on the edge of the pan. “What do you think?”
I take the spoon out of her hand, and my fingers brush hers, but when I look down at her, she doesn’t meet my eyes. I lift a spoonful of the mixture and pop it into my mouth.
“That’s excellent,” I say.
Her lips curl up into a half smile. “Can you keep an eye on it while I have a bath?”
“Sure thing,” I say, and she does look at me now, so I say quietly, “I’m so sorry about your books, Sadie.”
I’ve said it a few times since we got back.
I have a lot of old books stored at my parents’ house.
God knows how I’d feel if they disappeared.
My heart aches for her. Her shoulders make an almost imperceptible movement, and she gazes down at Mr. Karen.
“Thank you. I’m mad about it, but I’ll find replacements.
I don’t know why I didn’t move my stuff sooner.
I should have expected that Jake would do something, given the asshole he is.
It’s nothing compared to what my mom’s dealing with, what you’re having to deal with, what with Jane and the business . ..”
She trails off. Jane’s messages no longer bother me as much as they did.
“I think books are pretty important, especially childhood ones,” I say, and she grimaces. I tilt my head. “Go and have your bath.”
She nods, and Mr. Karen follows her as she disappears into the bathroom.
I watch her go, throat tight. Thank you, Sadie, I say to myself quietly in my head.
Thank you for everything you’re doing for me.
I want to return the favor so badly. After a minute or two, the water starts running, and I gaze out over Des’s furniture as warmth percolates through me.
I don’t think Sadie realizes how resilient she is.
She’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And, by God, it’s amazing having her in my corner.
About five minutes later, I’m just getting comfortable on the couch with a glass of wine when there’s a loud shriek, and I shoot to my feet.
“Sadie?”
Silence. I trot to the bathroom door and stare at it, hand raised against the wood.
“Sadie?”
“Arrgghhh.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes! Yes! I’m fine. Apart from the fact that Mr. Karen is in the bath with me.”
“Are you naked?” My voice sounds hollow, but obviously she’s fucking naked, James.
There’s a long pause.
“Sorry, of course you are. Um … Did he fall in? Can you get him out?”
“He didn’t fall in,” she says. “He got in with me.”
She’s naked in the bath with Mr. Karen? “Cover his kitty eyes.”
She snorts. “I don’t look that bad.”
I’m sure she doesn’t. My mind skitters around the idea of Sadie with no clothes on, but then she says, “He’s kind of … swimming?”
Swimming? Definitely a cat of very little brain.
“Hang on!” she adds.
There’s a lot of splashing and then Sadie opens the door wrapped in a towel, her shoulders completely bare, and I stare at her hair tied up in a scrunchie and her long, elegant neck and …
“Look!” she says, gesturing behind her.
When I follow the line of her arm, Mr. Karen’s head is above the water and he’s ... paddling? He’s happy as a clam.
“What’s he doing?” I whisper.
“He is so fucking weird,” she whispers back. “He just got in with me. He didn’t fall in and try to scrabble out. It was like he looked at me in there and thought: That looks like fun. He got in to swim.”
We both move over to the bath and watch him as his legs go back and forth and he moves around.
“Are cats big swimmers? I thought they hated water.”
She shakes her head. “I have no idea, to be honest.”
“Well, he can’t stay in there; he could drown. Let’s get him out. Can you find another towel?”
“Hang on a sec.” She disappears into her bedroom and returns in a robe, carrying a clean towel.
Is she naked under that thing? Fuck, James, why are you thinking about stuff like that? Sadie’s a friend. A friend who isn’t attached to Jane, and that’s one of the most valuable things you could have right now.
“Okay, put it on the floor, and I’ll get him out,” I say.
I roll up my sleeves and take off my watch, but when I slide my hand around him and start lifting, he growls. When I lift farther, he paddles his legs like crazy.
“Shit. What is he doing?” I place him back in the water.
Mr. K flicks his ears like he’s disgusted with both of us and carries on swimming. This cat has attitude for days—no wonder he’s in the shelter.
“What do we do now?” Sadie whispers.
I want to laugh. We’re two idiots whispering over a pet in a bath. “I have no idea.”
“Surely, he’ll get tired soon,” she says, pursing her lips as she stares at him. “I can sit in here and read my book and keep an eye on him for a bit.”
“I’ll come and sit with you,” I say. Now why did I say that? But a problem shared is a problem halved, right? Just like yesterday, when we went to collect her stuff.
Sadie goes to retrieve her book, and I check on the food, putting it on a low simmer. I drag a chair in from the dining table, and she sits on it. Then I find something to read and make myself comfy on the toilet seat.
After about five minutes of reading and Mr. Karen swimming, she giggles.
“What’s so funny?”
“I can’t believe we’re in this apartment in the Financial District, sitting in a bathroom together with our books while an adopted cat swims around in the bath! It’s not what I thought would happen in my twenties.”
I grin. “Me neither,” I say, but as it comes out of my mouth, Mr. Karen starts scrabbling at the sides, trying to get out.
“Uh-oh,” she says.
I shoot forward and grab him before he sends water everywhere.
Never a dull moment in Madness Mansions.
When I left the apartment I shared with Jane, I never expected that living somewhere else would introduce me to all this.
You never know what’s waiting just around the corner, Jimmy-boy.
When I put Mr. K on the towel, he immediately tries to take off.
“Oh no you don’t, buddy. I’m not having a wet cat racing around Des’s furniture, so you can stay here and dry off, for Christ’s sake.” I wrap him up and lift him in my arms, and Sadie steps forward and rubs his still mostly dry head.
“Did you enjoy your swim, Mr. K?”
I’ll bet he’s thinking that the place with the interesting swimming options and the cat treats is pretty good now.
As she strokes his ears, he starts purring loudly, and she grins.
I take in her smiling mouth, auburn lashes sitting against the freckles that dust the top of her cheeks, hair curling over her shoulders.
She smells of something sweet that I can’t quite put my finger on.
She’s a lovely person, Sadie—calm and kind.
She glances up and her eyes meet mine. Her lips are soft and pink.
What would they feel like under mine? Fuck.
Where did that thought come from? How come we’re standing so close?
I don’t want to move away from her, but I make myself do it as I clear my throat.
“Looks like he had an amazing time,” I say, swallowing.
“Perhaps it was all an experiment. He saw me in the bath and thought, Why not?”
“Why not indeed?” I mutter.
She rubs the towel against his body, and then I put him back on the floor and rub him down some more. When we finish, his fur is sticking out in every direction. He gives himself a shake and then strolls out of the bathroom and turns toward the kitchen, like he’s never looked better.
“Do you think he’ll straighten his fur out himself?” Sadie whispers.
“I hope you’re not saying anything about how he looks.” I peer at her over my glasses. “He might be offended.”
She grins. “The new ruffled look is in, or so I’m told.” And she leans up and ruffles my hair. Her face is close to mine, grinning. I can see strange striations in her pale gray eyes, fanning out from the dark center of her pupil. Her lips are a perfect curve.
She blinks up at me. I have no idea what my eyes are doing, but her hand stills as a flush takes over her cheeks.
Then she steps backward, mouth parting as a grimace washes over her face, and she pulls the edges of her robe together.
“I’ll just go get …” She waves her hand toward her room, then shoots through her bedroom door and closes it with a click.
What just happened?
My whole head is tingling. I turn and look at myself in the mirror. Did she just ruffle my hair? My hair is standing on end, and I’m grinning like an idiot.
It feels like the culmination of something that’s been building ever since she moved in. All the jokes we’ve shared, the understanding we’ve had from day one. I liked that hair ruffle. I like Sadie. I like her far too much and in a way I probably shouldn’t.