Chapter 24
Knox
Stripe purrs like a vintage engine in the crook of my elbow while Cami coos at Shadow from across the exam room. Wanda, former attic outlaw turned cuddle queen, has claimed the exam room counter as her perch, tail flicking with righteous superiority.
It’s been two weeks since I watched Cami collapse and vowed I’d never take a quiet moment with her for granted again.
Since then, we’ve been learning and adjusting to her new normal: electrolyte drinks at breakfast, water bottles in every room, no caffeine or alcohol, and the beep of her alarm reminding her to eat.
And once her doctor confirmed intimacy wouldn’t trigger symptoms, we found our rhythm again. Slow at first. Then not slow at all.
Not going to lie: worry hums under my skin, a constant second layer always bracing for a shift behind her easy I’m fine.
“You’d think they’d never seen a cat and kittens before,” Cami says, grinning at the two techs peeking through the glass.
“I overheard Dex say they’re interns.” I stroke between Stripe’s ears. “One of them jumped when Wanda sneezed. Dex told him not to worry, ‘the whisperer’s’ got it handled.”
Cami giggles, then throws me a look. “You planning on adding Cat Whisperer to your business cards?”
“Only if you add Bubble Girl to yours.”
“Already submitted an application for a legal name change.”
“Bubble Girl, PhD?” I chuckle. “Has a pretty nice ring to it.”
Before she can fire back, the door swings open with a squeak, and Dex steps in, holding a folded fleece blanket and a bin of toys like he’s delivering a care package for summer camp.
“Morning, dynamic duo,” he says, reading the room with cautious curiosity. “Are the kiddos ready for their final bonding session?”
Cami rises to her feet, smoothing the front of her sundress. “Yep. And Wanda’s been shockingly cooperative. Very minimal side-eye.”
“We’re in a golden window,” Dex says as he lays the blanket down in the corner. “She’s fed and only mildly offended that she’s not the center of attention anymore. Let’s get the kiddos on the floor and see how she handles it.”
Cami crouches again to lift Shadow while I bring Stripe over, placing him gently in the middle of the blanket.
Wanda eyes them both from her perch, tail twitching once. Then, without fanfare, hops down and approaches like she’s inspecting soldiers in training.
“Moment of truth,” Cami murmurs beside me.
I glance down as Stripe immediately toddles toward Wanda, nosing her belly with a hopeful squeak. Shadow follows, a little more hesitant, but no less determined.
Wanda leans down. One long, slow lick to Stripe’s head. Then another to Shadow’s ear.
“We have contact,” Dex says under his breath, hands on his hips like he’s watching NASA land a rover.
I feel Cami exhale beside me. “They clearly love her.”
“Can’t tell how she feels about them,” I mutter.
Dex clears his throat, rocking back on his heels like he’s about to comment on the weather.
“So,” he says, gaze ping-ponging between us, “what’s the plan with these two matchmakers? Any thoughts on making it official?”
Cami’s head tilts. “You mean…adoption?”
“They’re ready. Healthy. Fully weaned. And Wanda…” He tips his chin toward the blanket where she’s now curled like a reluctant babysitter, tail swishing as Shadow climbs over her flank. “She’s not exactly giving off motherly devotion. More like mildly tolerant older-sibling vibes.”
Cami raises a brow, fingers smoothing over Stripe’s tiny spine as if to shield him. “You don’t think she’s bonding with them?”
“Oh, she is,” Dex says.
Wanda stretches out across the fleece like it’s her personal throne, tail flicking as Stripe noses into her belly. She endures it for half a second, then rolls to face the opposite direction.
“But it’s not a forever kind of bond,” Dex continues. “Wanda clearly sees them as houseguests, not dependents. No nesting. No protective behaviors. If they stay longer, she’ll deal. But she won’t miss them once they go.”
I glance down at Shadow, curled against Wanda’s belly like it’s the safest place in the world. “So she’s not going to protest if they’re adopted out.”
“Not unless they steal her sunbeam,” Dex deadpans. “And as of this week, they’re officially old enough. Flyers go up Friday unless someone steps in sooner. Biscuit, the other kitty that was delivered here, has already been adopted by a staff member.”
Cami looks at me. “We haven’t really talked about it.”
“Doesn’t mean we haven’t thought about it,” I say.
Dex smiles like he saw this coming. “No pressure. But if you’re even considering adoption, we can process that today.”
Cami glances down at Stripe pawing at her purse strap, her smile tugging wider as she bends to untangle him. “Not sure how these two will survive without us.”
I clear my throat. “Should we make it official?”
Cami’s whole face shimmers with delight. “Yes!”
“Wait—” Dex raises a brow. “Are we talking about the kittens or…?”
“Kittens!” Cami and I shout and chuckle in unison.
“Awesome.” He grins, already heading for the door. “And I know a guy who makes ridiculously cute name tags and personalized collars.”
Cami snorts. “Can they say Property of the Cat Whisperer?”
“And Bubble Girl,” I add with a wink.
Our corny inside joke hangs between us, light and familiar. Cami’s hand stills on Shadow’s fur, her thumb pressing gently as if to steady herself.
When her eyes meet mine, bright and a little undone, I can’t help but wonder if this adoption is really about them or more about us.
Sixty-five minutes and three rounds of “no, we’re not playing now” is what it took to get Stripe and Shadow down for the night.
Now that they’re officially adopted, they’ve decided to test the limits of their bedtime privileges. Who knew two tiny furballs could morph into toddlers with zero respect for boundaries?
Cami insisted on tucking them in with a fleece blanket and two fuzzy socks, one for each. Apparently, that’s a thing now because it worked.
Once they were down for the count, I pulled Cami into the shower, which turned into something more. First against the tile. Then tangled in these sheets. Now we’re nose to nose, her leg draped over mine.
Moonlight slices across her cheekbones and the bridge of her freckled nose. In the distance, waves crash like a lullaby. Slowly, I feather my fingers along her side.
“Ten days.” I press a kiss along the hollow of her eye. “And no dizzy spells.”
She trails her fingernails along my bicep, sending a ripple of heat through me. “I know.” Her smile is tranquil. “I’ve been counting, too.” A quiet beat passes before she whispers, “Thank you. For stocking the pantry. For checking on me. For making me feel safe.”
“I’d do anything for you, Cami. You’re worth it, remember?”
I can feel her breath on my lips, warm and a little uneven as my thumb brushes the edge of her rib cage.
The look in her eyes tells me she’s about to ask something simple that carries weight. “How does it feel to be a cat dad?”
I huff a laugh. “Feels unexpectedly right. What about you? How does it feel to be a cat mom?”
She exhales through her nose, something caught between a laugh and a sigh. “I think I’m still adjusting.”
“To ‘cat mom’ or…”
“To whatever this is,” she says, barely above a whisper, a million questions dancing in her eyes.
Quiet returns sharp enough to wrap around skin and settle in bones. I don’t know how we got here, netted in something we never meant to name. One month left. And still, we said yes to kittens. As if that doesn’t spell commitment.
Christ. I could lie. Tell her we’re still not falling, still floating, that it’s just emotions and timing. But she deserves more than that.
“Yeah…” I trace the curve of her waist, needing her to feel what I can’t quite say. “We weren’t supposed to get this far.”
“And yet…here we are.” Her eyes search mine, unguarded.
“Here we are,” I echo, holding her gaze like it’s the only true thing in the room.
Hand settled at the small of her back, I tug her closer to me as we trade heated kisses between steady breaths.
It’s ridiculous how we still kiss this way.
Like a couple of teenagers sneaking around after curfew.
Like we’re new. Like we haven’t already had our hands all over each other, naked, tangled up in every possible way.
When her body begins to soften with sleep, she shifts, turning away from me in that slow, instinctive way she always does, tucking herself into the space where my chest meets her back. I curl around her, one arm slipping over her waist, our legs tangled beneath the sheets.
Cami exhales, her breath melting into the hush of sleep.
And as my eyes begin to drift closed, I whisper into the dark—
“I love you.”