Chapter 27 Miller - Cat Daddy
So, I’m a cat dad now.
I’m embracing it, if only for the unfiltered joy this little furball brings Penelope and Gwendolyn.
I’ve We’ve survived a full week of litter box training (why can’t cats use the toilet or go outside like dogs?), the middle of the night bursts of energy where he tries to dash across my face, and the meowing. Damn, the meowing doesn’t stop. He’s a chatty little thing.
And yes, he is a he. The vet officially confirmed Mr. Ladybug Caswell for us, and thankfully confirmed he’s perfectly healthy and flea-free.
All last week, Penelope didn’t want to leave the kitten’s (or Gwen’s) side for even a minute except for school, so we postponed the Auntie Margot and Uncle Sawyer sleepover until this weekend.
After I declared to Gwen she was staying, I quickly realized I needed to have a conversation with Penelope to get the all clear.
I got halfway through bringing up Gwen potentially staying for a sleepover with the newly found Ladybug before P was screeching and sprinting throughout the apartment about it being the best day of her life.
The overnight bag is packed and sitting by the door. P now feels comfortable leaving Ladybug with me and Gwen for a night, because Gwen hasn’t left us except to retrieve clothes in a week either. Don’t hate that, I can tell you that much.
The me sleeping on the couch, her in the bed thing never worked out. I don’t know why I even entertained the idea. If I’m waking up to Gwen Bozelli in my apartment, I’m waking up next to her in my bed. She sleeps with no pants on. Do you know how fucking lucky I am?
Work has been an absolute shit-show, and the extra set of hands helping coordinate drop-offs, pick-ups, and meals has been such a fucking lifesaver.
I’m in a branch more than I’ve ever been in the last five years, and I would be drowning if it wasn’t for Gwen.
I thank her every night, in more ways than one.
Now that I’ve tasted her, licked paths all over her body, and made her come undone, I’m an addict. There isn’t enough of her. I always want more. The way she wants me back just as much fuels it all, adding fire to an already out of control flame.
Sitting at the kitchen island, I’m trying to keep the focus on this last piece of P’s homework while she makes no effort, ignoring the math problem in front of her to dangle one of Ladybug’s toys in his face so he swats at it.
Gwen’s closing down the cafe, and then we’re dropping Penelope off at the cottages.
“Penelope, can we try to wrap this up, please?” I tap the pencil on the paper.
“Can’t we save it for Sunday night?” she pleads. I hated homework growing up, and I try to keep things positive, so she doesn’t have the same negative feelings towards it. Today is a struggle.
“But if we finish now, then we don’t have to worry about it at all for the rest of the weekend. Doesn’t that sound good?” I offer.
“Not really, no. I don’t want to worry about it right now.”
I’m not above bribery, I’ll admit it. “What do I have to give you?”
“Disney.”
“Not happening. Yet,” I add in quickly. I wish it was. P has been on a roll about going ever since she cracked open Gwen’s photo albums. I have it on my list to ask Gwen if she’d be willing to help plan something within the next year if I can. Maybe she’ll even come with us.
I can see the gears turning in Penelope’s head. She’s not finishing this homework until she gets something worth her while now that it was offered, and damn it, I have to respect the hustle.
“Can Gwen stay?” she asks timidly.
I wasn’t expecting that. We still haven’t talked about anything permanent because I’ve chickened out and avoided the subject. But my girl is apparently ready to tackle this head on.
“Is that…is that something you’d want?”
“Yeah, duh,” Penelope says. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re funnier when she’s here. She likes to play dress up, and she makes better cheesy chicken than you. And I…I saw you kiss her on the lips. That means you like her, right?”
I grab her hand. “I like her a whole lot, Penelope. This is a big kind of deal, though. It’s not something we decide on to get you to do your times tables. But, I’m happy you brought it up.”
“Does she not like you back? Gabby at school says her mommy doesn’t like her daddy so they don’t live together anymore.”
Yikes. I try to laugh off that interesting fact. “No, babe. I think she does like me back. It’s a little different than Gabby’s parents. Remember how we talked about how all families don’t always look the same?”
She nods, and I continue, “Okay, cool. So sometimes you have a daddy and a mommy, or just a daddy, or just a mommy. Sometimes you live with Grandma or Grandpa, or an aunt and uncle, right? Well, sometimes when you live with just one parent, they meet someone new—”
“Someone like Gwen,” Penelope adds.
“Yeah, someone just like Gwen,” I tell her. “They get to know each other, and if they’re lucky they, uh, they fall in love. And then that someone sort of joins the family.”
“So, Gwen would be like my mom?”
Wow, did all of the air in this apartment get sucked out, or fucking what?
“Umm? Uh? I—she—” I stumble and stutter and feel myself flailing with nothing to hold onto. “That’s a great question, Penelope. It’s something I’d feel better talking about with all three of us sometime soon. Is that an okay answer?”
“Mmm, yeah. That’s okay. She kind of said the same thing.” She picks her pencil back up and focuses on the remaining multiplication problems in front of her.
I scoop up Ladybug and bring him to my chest, rubbing behind his ear the way he likes so much. I’m just gonna say it. I fucking love this little guy. When he’s not waking me up at 2:00 a.m., he likes to sit around my neck. He’ll hang with me as I walk around the apartment. It’s cute as hell.
Realization hits me suddenly.
“P, what do you mean she said the same thing?” I awkwardly ask.
I know Penelope and Gwen have this connection between them. But to hear P say she could see Gwen as a mom? Are we really at this point? I mean, it’s been months, but I haven’t given myself the chance to think about it enough.
Penelope doesn’t look up from her homework. “I asked her. You know, about being a mom and stuff. She said she had to talk to you.”
Gwen became intertwined in our lives before I even knew how it felt to hold her in my arms, to see her tuck my daughter in with unconditional care and love. Is that short amount of time enough to know for sure? Can you ever even know something like this without a doubt?
I picture Gwen in the morning, right before she wakes up, and I get to take in the sight of her all to myself. A wave of peace washes over me. It’s the most simple view in the world, and it brings me the easiest answer. Yes.
I wouldn’t say I was ever someone who believed in fate. It’s hard to when you grow up in the kind of environment I did, but there’s a part of me that has this absolute feeling that we were always meant to find Gwen. Or she was supposed to find us. Either way, it all just inexplicably makes sense.
I fully intend on showing and telling Gwen all of this repeatedly over the course of the next twenty-four hours we’re going to have alone together.
Well, us and the cat.
“Okay, bye!” I barely have the car in park, and Penelope already has her carseat unclipped and her hand on the door handle to leave. She reaches down with her other hand to grab hold of her backpack.
In the passenger seat, Gwen tries to quiet her giggles. “P, let the guy park the freaking car before you ditch us.”
Penelope huffs. “I’m just excited. I’ve never had a sleepover with Auntie M.”
“I know, kid. She’s so pumped, too. You don’t even know. She told me today she and your Uncle Sawyer have so much planned,” Gwen easily assures her.
“I’m gonna miss you, though. And Ladybug. And Daddy.”
“We’re gonna miss you too, princess. But we’ll be here bright and early tomorrow morning for breakfast. Does that sound good?
” I throw in. I’m trying to add to the conversation, reminding them I’m here.
Because I’ve basically been dubbed the chauffeur since we got in the car, Penelope and Gwen ignoring me to keep the flow going amongst themselves.
I don’t mind, though. It’s given me the time to let my mind wander through everything I want to say to Gwen, everything I want to show her and do for her—with her. I want it all. I’m taking a page out of Sawyer’s book and just going for it.
When you know, you know, right?
“Not too early though,” Penelope says.
Gwen turns her upper body around to face P. “You got it, dude.”
“Are you guys gonna kiss while I’m gone?”
Gwen’s eyes practically pop out of her head, and she slaps her hand over her mouth. She jerks her body back to face forward and flings her door open, jumping out. Gwen then proceeds to pretend to have a dramatic coughing fit.
She’s leaving me in here alone, and I’m gonna get her back for that, damn it.
“Uh, that’s, umm, that’s not an appropriate question,” I say, praying to literally anyone who will listen that it’s a solid enough answer.
“Why?”
Fuck.
“Because it’s private?” I offer.
I watch P’s head swivel and turn to see Margot walking outside, officially catching Penelope’s attention.
“Huh,” she says absentmindedly. “Okay, Daddy.” She picks up her backpack, slings it over her shoulder, and hops out of the car like a tiny teenager. How’d she grow up so fast? Where does she come up with all of the whys of the world?
Silently thanking Margot, I’m last to exit the vehicle, out just in time to see Penelope throw her arms around Margot’s neck like she hasn’t seen her in weeks, when really it’s been maybe a day.
I hope my sister and future brother-in-law are okay with never moving out of Merrymount because I don’t think I could ever live in a world now where my kid, or kids if I really give it some thought, don’t live down the road from their aunt and uncle. And maybe their own children someday.
After a short visit with Margot and Sawyer, Gwen and I say goodbye and goodnight to them and Penelope.
Gwen hangs out the window waving her arm like a gorgeous lunatic down the whole dirt driveway.
She doesn’t slink back in and buckle up until the cottages, and more importantly Penelope waving back at her on the porch, are out of sight.
I drive us a few towns over to an Italian restaurant I found while scouring reviews for a decentish place to take Gwen for a real dinner date. I can’t take my eyes off her. Not a soul could as we are walked to our table in the back by the hostess either. Can’t say I blame a single one of them.
She has her hair in those big curls that make her look like a freaking Hollywood star and another one of those skin tight sweater dresses that hits right below her knees. Can’t say I’ve ever had anything with the word sweater in it turn me on like those things do.
Gwen lets me hold her hand in the middle of the table, and I don’t think there’s ever been a time when I’ve felt so wholly happy in my life.
My daughter is safe with family who’s not just me.
I’m sharing a meal with the smartest and most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met in my life, and she’s mine.
At least, I’m hers, and she feels like she’s mine.
I think I can count good memories from my childhood on one hand and somehow Gwen pulls every single one out of me effortlessly. For each one of mine, she gives me one of hers, and I pocket them all, committing them to memory.
Our server places a slice of raspberry cheesecake in the middle of our table with two spoons. I let Gwen take the first bite, and she dives into another story.
“Oh! Have you ever been camping?” I shake my head, not wanting to stop her.
“Katie invited me once,” she continues.
I raise an eyebrow at the mention of the name.
“Yep, that Katie. This was like, right before she became a complete wackadoo. She, Sawyer, Gus, and I went up to Barefoot Lake and pitched a couple tents as, like, an end of summer hoorah before school started. Everything’s chill and normal when all of a sudden this older man comes strolling through our site!
“He makes sure we know to lock any food before we go to sleep—because of animals and stuff—and then just sits by us around the fire. At first I was like Uh, what the fuck? But then he turned out to be cool as shit, and told us ghost stories that honestly kind of terrified me. He had those eyes that just told you he was kind, you know? Sorry, I’m rambling.
I know, I do that a lot. Hey, there’s Red the rambler, yapping away—”
“Gwen,” I squeeze her hand and she pauses. “You’re Gwen here, with me, always. I want to know every little thing about you, so ramble away. Hell, let me record you, and I’ll play it back in the car like it’s my own podcast.”
“You’re ridiculous,” she laughs and sets her spoon down. She stretches her arms up. “Would it be cliche of me to tell you to take me home again?”
“Baby, I want to hear that line every day for the rest of my life.”