Chapter 5
Chapter Five
MADDIE
“ M eow,” Arty greets as I walk through the door.
Bending down, I rub behind his ears, and his purr grows louder. “Hi, boy.”
I head into the kitchen, Arty hot on my heels. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” I laugh as I grab his food from the cupboard and pour it into his bowl. “You’re an absolute menace, my boy. Anyone ever tell you that?” I ask. He looks at me as if to say, “Yeah, you every day, Mom.”
I’ve been tripped up and headbutted three times since I arrived home—his way of letting me know he wants his food.
Once I’ve set his meal down, his purring goes from loud to muted as he eats.
I walk to the fridge and take out the ingredients for tonight’s dinner.
It’s nothing fancy since I’m not a huge cook, and to be honest, after being on my feet all day, I can’t be bothered.
So I quickly rustle up a chicken Caesar salad.
I sit down at the small dining table, which seats two people, and begin eating.
I’ve lived in this tiny apartment since I moved here.
The rent’s cheap, probably because it’s so run down in places—leaky faucet, shower that only works when it wants to, and a pervy neighbor who loves to pretend he’s just watering his plants…
in the nude. But it’s home. It’s the one place where I’ve been able to set down roots and just breathe.
The shock of my life came the day a private investigator found me dossing around in New York City.
I worked in a diner part-time and lived in a rat-infested apartment.
The guy showed up, dropped papers in my lap and told me to get in contact with a ‘Mr. Brown.’ Couldn’t have sounded more made up if they’d tried.
After going to his office, more out of curiosity than anything, that’s where I found out I had a grandmother I knew nothing about.
She was my mom's mom, apparently. I didn’t ask for the full details; in all honesty, I didn’t care. But I did feel bad for a woman who was trying to do right by me. Which is why, when I took one look at the shop she’d left me, I couldn’t sell it. I didn’t want to sell it.
Books have been my way of escaping for years, and to own an actual bookshop?
Mind-blowingly amazing. The place was old and dusty when I first opened its doors.
I didn’t know how long it had been closed for, but with a lick of paint, some dusting, and some serious ventilation, the place looked incredible.
For the first few weeks, the influx of customers was crazy.
At one point, I thought I’d have to take on more staff, but I think it was more to do with who I was and why I had the late owner's shop, rather than the actual store. People kept asking question after question as they bought their books. As soon as they figured out they weren’t going to get what they wanted from me, they stopped asking.
Arty meows, wanting his evening cuddles.
I smile, picking him up and putting him on my lap.
“Christmas is coming, boy, and you know how much I hate it.” He purrs in response, rubbing his nose across my face and headbutting me for attention.
“Alright, alright. I’m sorry I left you for so long,” I say, stroking him.
I sit for a minute more, enjoying listening to the soft noises he makes, before depositing him on the floor and tidying up. Arty must feel like he’s been deprived of me for too long since he trips me up yet again.
“This has got to stop, young man,” I admonish with a waggle of my finger, yet a smile curves at the corner of my lips. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
The little asshole just meows at me and walks off, tail in the air. I shake my head at his antics and carry on wiping down the counter.
After I’ve had a shower and gotten into clean pajamas, I climb into bed with my Kindle, desperate to read the latest book by Ryen Santana . That author has a way of mind fucking you into oblivion, and I’m definitely in the mood for it.
Arty comes in and curls up on my lap. I snuggle under the duvet and open the book, getting lost in someone else’s world.