Chapter Twenty-Two
Donovan
I actually do want a cat with Eric, but I’m so worried that all my wires are getting crossed.
How do you sort through going from your best friend being straight to being your husband, then him being queer and the two of you having sex and sleeping in the same bed, and poof , magically know what it all means?
Real life is never as simple as that. Like earlier when we were at the farmers’ market, I mentioned our divorce to remind myself it’s still the plan, even though we act like a married couple in love.
And then he starts talking about maybe not wanting to move out, and how our cat will be our baby, but then doesn’t deny we won’t be married forever.
I can ask him. I know I can. This isn’t one of those things where I’m afraid to communicate with my best friend, but I don’t want to put pressure on him.
Or myself, to be honest. I’m still so confused about what’s going on.
So many of the things he’s saying or doing can be seen as Eric being Eric.
If he had actual feelings for me, he would tell me, just like when he realized he was bi.
But if I’m all mixed up about what’s going on, he must be too. So I try not to obsess about it and go with the flow.
We run home and put the food way, then stop by a pet store to get everything a cat might need. Who knows if we’ll be able to take one home today, but apparently, this is a thing we’re doing, so we should be prepared.
It’s three by the time we make it to the shelter.
“Have you filled out any of the paperwork online?” the receptionist asks.
I open my mouth to say no, but Eric beats me to it. “Yep! All that is taken care of.” Eric glances at me shyly and shrugs. “I’m home a lot.” Which I know is a sore spot for him.
Since he did it at the farmers’ market and it was okay, I interlace my fingers with his, earning a grin.
She looks us up in the computer and everything checks out, so she takes us over to look at the cats. “Do you prefer a cat or a kitten?”
Eric turns to me. “Do you have a preference? I don’t. I was originally thinking kitten, but I also feel like they might be more popular. Maybe we should give an older cat a chance.”
Yep, there it goes. My heart melts. How is this man so fucking perfect? I’m so screwed. “I like that.”
We head over, and there are a whole lot of cats available.
“I hate that there are so many,” Eric says.
“Yeah, I was just thinking something similar.”
Each cage has a name on it, the history of the cat, and their age or estimated age.
We walk up and down the row numerous times, looking at them.
Eric keeps lingering in front of a long-haired calico.
It says she’s about two years old. She was a stray.
She’s only been here a week, and it says she’s sweet, cuddly, and eager for her person… or people, I guess.
“Should we see if we can hold her?” I ask Eric.
“Definitely.”
I find one of the workers, who brings us into a room with the cat. “She doesn’t seem to know her name yet. It hasn’t been much time, so she’ll be easy to rename if you want.”
Eric and I sit side by side, and the man sets the cat on Eric’s lap. She immediately starts to purr and rub her face into Eric’s belly. For real, cat. I get it. I like my face there too.
“I’m surprised she’s so affectionate,” Eric says. “Having been a stray.”
I nod, then reach over and pet her. She goes back and forth between rubbing on both me and Eric, soaking it all up.
“You like your daddies, don’t you?” Eric asks her, and my heart squeezes.
I want to be a pet daddy with Eric. This is so bad.
Her tail flicks back and forth, but not in that pissed-cat way. In a happy-cat way.
“I think she likes us,” I tell him.
“Smart cat.” Our hands brush against each other in the cat’s fur. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re already in love,” I answer honestly.
“I think I am too.”
My stomach flip-flops.
The cat. He’s talking about the cat. Chill out.
“Looks like we found our baby,” I tell him, and Eric gives me the biggest grin.
“We want her,” he tells the guy watching us together.
“Okay, let’s get this process going.”
There’s more paperwork to fill out, and a while later, we’re driving home with a cat carrier on Eric’s lap with our cat.
Eric’s and my cat.
That we’re going to share while he maybe lives with me for the rest of our lives.
I think it’s time to seriously figure out what the hell I’m feeling and then find out if he feels the same.
*
We spend the rest of the day loving on our cat. We still haven’t decided on a name but have tossed a few possibilities back and forth.
She’s settled in quickly, enjoying the freedom of the house after being locked away in a cage. She’s been exploring, and using the scratching post we got her—for which I said a silent thank-you because I really didn’t want my furniture to get messed up.
Eric makes dinner, and we sit on the couch with the cat between us and eat. Afterward we watch TV while I knit and our baby attacks my yarn. When I put it away, Eric cuddles against me, lost in the show, but I can’t stop my gaze from flicking to him.
I’ve never allowed myself to consider the possibility of having romantic feelings for Eric.
I kept him in one box and my sexuality in another because that always felt safer.
What would have happened if I hadn’t? Would I have spent my life obsessing over my best friend?
Am I doing that now? The sex is already complicating things, but it’s not just that.
It’s the handholding and him calling me husband; getting a cat and Eric saying we’re her daddies.
Are those things fucking with my head, or are they giving me permission to see something that might have always been there?
And if it is there, is it only on my side, or does Eric feel it too?
Because he just seems like himself—fun-loving, easygoing, not taking life too seriously.
“What?” he asks, noticing I’m staring at him.
“Nothing.” I shake my head. My chest feels…weird. Fluttery and tight.
Eric is leaning against me, my arm around him. He tilts his head up and takes my mouth, his tongue swooping inside. I allow it, crave it, open up for him and let him taste me while I taste him and the room around us spins.
My dick starts to go hard as Eric maneuvers us so we’re lying with him on top. His mouth doesn’t leave mine, the kiss deepening as he ruts against me, long and hard beneath his shorts.
“I’m happy,” he says when his lips leave mine, still against my skin and traveling down my throat.
He’s happy? What does that mean? Other than the obvious, of course. “I…”
“I love our cat.”
Oh. So no deep meaning there. This is why I’m so confused. “Me too,” I answer because underneath all my what the fuck is happening , I’m also happy.
Eric nibbles at my collarbone. “I want you. I want to fuck my husband after a perfect day.”
My body arches toward him, longing for the same thing. I love being fucked, and I haven’t been with anyone since things went to shit with Malcolm. “Yes. God yes. I want that too.”
“Let’s go.” He scrambles off me, not quite as smoothly as he would have without the boot.
“Um…give me a few minutes first? I need to make sure I’m ready.”
“Yeah. Of course. I’ll get our baby settled and then meet you in bed.”
I chuckle. “Are you going to keep calling her our baby?”
“Why would I call her anything else? That’s what she is.”
I chuckle. “You’re so silly.”
“That’s why you love me,” he says, and my legs almost give out beneath me.
Chill out. He doesn’t mean like that.
“Who said I do?” I tease, tossing him a look over my shoulder.
“I know you do!” Eric calls after me.
I don’t reply, hurrying to the en suite and locking the door behind me.
I make quick work of freshening up and getting clean. I know my body fairly well—when I should be more careful and when I should be good.
Before I know it, I’m walking out of the bathroom to a naked Eric in our bed…my bed? Our bed. He smiles at me, his cock having gone soft now. He’s…so damn fine. Fuck, he’s beautiful , lean and muscular, his grin bright enough to light up the night, blue eyes so honest and kind.
My heart races, and I swear I go dizzy.
“Come here, D. You’re so fucking hot. I want you so much,” he says, and I know, then and there, that I’m so incredibly fucked.